Chapter Fourteen: The Past Unveiled
The night after the interview, the world was still buzzing. Clips of Ethan kissing her temple had gone viral, fans dubbing them the couple of the decade. For once, the headlines weren't filled with suspicion, but adoration.
Yet Amara couldn't shake the heaviness in her chest. The performance had worked too well. And worse, it had felt… real.
When Ethan disappeared into a late-night meeting with Miranda, Amara wandered the villa restlessly. Her feet carried her down a hallway she hadn't explored before—lined with closed doors, cool marble beneath her bare feet. At the end, one door stood slightly ajar.
She hesitated. It wasn't her place to pry. But curiosity tugged stronger than caution.
The room was dim, the air heavy with the faint scent of cedar. Inside, framed photographs lined a bookshelf—images so different from Ethan's glossy, public life that Amara froze.
In one photo, a younger Ethan stood on a small stage, guitar in hand, his smile unguarded, almost boyish. In another, he held a woman close—her hair long and dark, her laughter frozen mid-sparkle as she leaned into him.
Amara's stomach twisted. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the frame. Whoever the woman was, Ethan had looked… happy. Freer.
On the desk, an old newspaper clipping caught her eye. "Rising Star Ethan Knight Breaks Engagement After Tragedy." The grainy article showed the same woman, her name circled in red pen.
Amara's breath caught. An engagement. A fiancée. And something had gone wrong—badly enough that the press had called it a tragedy.
Before she could read more, the door creaked.
Ethan stood there, his expression thunderous. "What are you doing here?"
Amara jerked back, guilt rushing through her. "I—I wasn't snooping, I just—"
His gaze burned, sharp as glass. "This room is off-limits."
"I didn't know," she whispered. "I just… saw the photos."
The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words. Ethan stepped into the room, his shoulders rigid. "That part of my life is gone. It's not for the world, and it's not for you."
Her chest tightened. "But you let the world think they know you. You let me think I do."
His jaw clenched. For a moment, she thought he would lash out, but instead, his voice dropped, low and rough. "Knowing me is dangerous, Amara. And if you're smart, you'll stop trying."
The words sliced deeper than she expected. She wanted to demand answers, to know who the woman was, what had happened, why Ethan hid behind walls thicker than steel. But his eyes—haunted and raw—stopped her.
She nodded faintly, stepping back. "I'm sorry."
Without another word, she slipped past him into the hall, her pulse racing.
Back in her room, she pressed a hand to her chest. The headlines might have painted them as perfect, but behind Ethan's mask, there was a wound he refused to let anyone see.
And Amara realized with a shiver that she wasn't just pretending anymore—she wanted to be the one to uncover the truth.
But secrets that deep could destroy them both.
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