I scrubbed at the mirror with the sleeve of my silk dress, desperate to erase the words.
HE KNOWS.
The lipstick was old and waxy, hardened by three months of sitting in the dark. It smeared into a pink blur, but the letters were still visible. My breath fogged up the glass, mixing with the red streaks until the reflection looked like a crime scene.
"Who knows???" I whispered to the empty room. "What does he know?"
I backed away from the mirror, my heart thudding against my ribs. I felt like I had walked into a mausoleum. The room smelled of stale air and heavy, cloying perfume Elena's scent. It was everywhere. In the curtains, in the carpet, in the white fur throw on the bed.
I needed to find something. A diary. A phone. Anything that could tell me who "He" was.
I rushed to the bedside table and yanked open the top drawer.
Empty.
I checked the second drawer. Empty.
I ran to the massive walk-in closet. Rows of designer dresses hung like ghosts in plastic bags. Shoes were lined up by color. But there were no papers. No notes. It was as if someone had sanitized the room, scrubbing away any trace of the woman who lived here.
Then I heard it.
The heavy, rhythmic thud of footsteps in the hallway. They stopped right outside my door.
I froze. I had locked the door. I was safe.
Click.
The sound of the lock disengaging echoed like a gunshot in the silent room. I watched in horror as the brass handle turned. I had forgotten the most basic rule of power: the man who owns the house has the master key.
The door swung open.
Julian stood in the doorway. He had shed his tuxedo jacket and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, exposing the hollow of his throat. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms that were thick with muscle and dusted with dark hair. He looked less like a CEO and more like a brawler who had just finished a fight.
He didn't look at me. He walked straight into the room, closing the door behind him with a definitive thud.
"We need to talk," he said.
I backed up until my legs hit the edge of the mattress. "I thought you said we were staying out of each other's way."
"I lied," Julian said.
He walked toward me, his eyes scanning the room. He looked at the bed, then the window, and finally, his gaze landed on me. He stopped three feet away. The air in the room seemed to get thinner, sucked up by his commanding presence.
"Silas called me," Julian said. His voice was dangerously calm. "He told me you were anxious. He told me to be 'gentle' with you."
He let out a short, harsh laugh.
"Gentle," he repeated, tasting the word like it was poison. "After what you did to this family? After the lies you told the press before you vanished?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. It was the truth, but to him, it sounded like another lie.
Julian took a step closer. I could smell the scotch on his breath now.
"Stop playing the amnesiac, Elena," he growled. "You told the board of directors that I was embezzling money. You tried to tank the merger. You tried to destroy my company just to spite me because I wouldn't renegotiate the prenup."
My blood went cold. Silas hadn't told me that. He had said it was a simple marriage of convenience. He hadn't told me Elena was actively trying to destroy Julian's life.
"I..." I stammered, searching for a defense. "I made a mistake."
"A mistake?" Julian stepped into my personal space. I had nowhere to go. I sat down on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. It put me at a disadvantage, making him loom over me like a titan.
"You don't make mistakes, Elena," he said, leaning down, his hands bracing on the mattress on either side of my hips. He trapped me in a cage of his arms. "You make calculations."
He was so close I could see the flecks of gold in his grey eyes. I could feel the heat radiating from his chest. My heart betrayed me, skipping a beat. He was terrifying, yes, but he was also the most magnetic man I had ever met.
"Why did you come back?" he whispered. His voice dropped to a rough rasp. "You hate me. You hate this house. So why are you here?"
"I had nowhere else to go," I whispered.
He stared at me, his gaze dropping to my lips. For a second, the anger in his eyes faltered, replaced by something darker. Confusion? Hunger?
He leaned in closer. My breath hitched. Was he going to kiss me? Or kill me?
Then, his eyes shifted. He looked over my shoulder, toward the vanity mirror behind me.
He froze.
I saw his pupils dilate. The muscles in his forearms bunched as his grip on the mattress tightened.
He had seen the lipstick message.
"He knows," Julian read aloud, his voice flat.
He pushed off the bed, standing up to his full height. He walked past me, toward the mirror. He stared at the red smear I had tried to clean, reading the words that were still visible underneath.
He turned back to me slowly. The confusion was gone. The cold, hard mask was back in place.
"Is that a threat, Elena?" he asked softly.
"No," I said, standing up. "I found it like that. It was there when I walked in."
"Liar," he snapped. "No one has been in this room for three months. Mrs. Graves has the only other key, and she wouldn't use your lipstick."
He walked back toward me, but this time, there was no heat in his eyes. Only ice.
"So you're playing the victim again," he said. "trying to make it look like someone is stalking you? trying to set the stage for another 'disappearance'?"
"I didn't write it!" I cried, desperate now.
"I don't care," Julian said. He stopped at the door, his hand on the knob. He looked back at me with a look of pure exhaustion. "Play your games, Elena. Write your messages on the mirrors. Scream at the ghosts. But do not drag me into your madness."
He opened the door.
"Lock it behind me," he said. "And if you know what's good for you, you'll stay in here until you remember how to be a sane human being."
He slammed the door.
I stood alone in the silence.
He didn't believe me. Of course he didn't. To him, I was the boy who cried wolf.
I turned back to the mirror. The words HE KNOWS seemed to glow in the dim light.
Julian thought I wrote it. But I knew the truth.
I wasn't the only one in this house watching. And whoever had written that message... were they still here??