Victoria left after that.
She had meetings, she said. Calls to make. Fires to put out. But Amelia saw the way she looked at Ethan before she walked out – a long, searching look, like she was saying goodbye to something.
Then the door closed, and they were alone.
Ethan stood by the window, his back to Amelia. His shoulders were tense. His hands were shoved into his pockets.
"Ethan."
He didn't turn.
"Ethan, look at me."
He turned.
His face was calm, but his eyes were not. They were dark. Troubled. The way they'd been the night the men broke down the door.
"What did she mean?" Amelia asked. "About you taking something?"
Ethan was quiet.
"Ethan—"
"Not here." His voice was low. "Not now."
"When?"
"Soon."
SOON
There it was again.
Amelia walked toward him. Slowly. Each step felt heavier than the last. When she was close enough to touch him, she stopped.
"I got a text message," she said.
Ethan's expression didn't change, but something in his posture shifted. Tightened.
"What did it say?"
"Someone told me to stay away from Victoria."
"Who?"
"I don't know. The number was blocked."
Ethan reached out and took her phone from her pocket. She let him. He scrolled through the messages, his jaw tightening with each one.
"These started the day after the wedding," he said.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Amelia looked at him. At the man who had carried her inside. Who had kissed her like she was the answer to a prayer. Who had said mine like it was a vow.
"Because I didn't know if I could trust you," she said.
The words hung between them.
Ethan handed the phone back. His fingers brushed hers.
"And now?" he asked. "Do you trust me now?"
Amelia thought about the locked room. About the empty drawer. About the way he said I'm sorry in his sleep.
"No," she said quietly. "But I want to."
Ethan closed his eyes.
When he opened them, something had shifted. Something had broken open.
"Tonight," he said. "After we get home. I'll show you the room."
Amelia's heart stopped.
"The locked room?"
"Yes."
"Why tonight?"
"Because I'm tired of losing you before I've even had the chance to keep you."
He stepped closer. His hand came up to her face, his thumb brushing her cheek.
"If you see what's in that room," he said, "you might run. You might hate me. You might never look at me the same way again."
"Then why show me?"
"Because you asked."
He kissed her forehead. Soft. Brief.
"And because you deserve the truth."
_____
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Victoria avoided them.
Amelia noticed.
She also noticed the way some of the employees looked at her – curious, cautious, like they weren't sure if she was a prisoner or a guest.
By the time they left the office, the sun was setting.
The drive home was quiet. But not the heavy silence of before. This was different. Anticipatory.
Ethan held her hand over the console. His thumb traced circles on her skin.
Neither of them spoke.
When they pulled into the driveway, Amelia looked up at the house. The windows were dark. The door was closed.
Somewhere inside, at the end of the hall, a locked room was waiting.
Ethan turned off the engine.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
Amelia looked at him. At the man she'd married. The stranger. The devil.
"No," she said. "But show me anyway."
He took her hand.
And together, they walked inside.
The hallway was dark.
Ethan walked ahead of her, his footsteps soft against the hardwood. Amelia followed close behind, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
They passed her bedroom. His bedroom. A bathroom. A linen closet.
And then they stopped.
The door was at the very end of the hall, set apart from the others. It looked ordinary enough – white paint, a brass handle, no different from any other door in the house.
But Amelia had tried this handle before. Twice.
Both times, it had been locked.
Ethan stood in front of it now, his hand resting on the frame. He didn't reach for his keys. Didn't move to open it.
"Ethan," she said quietly.
"I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"Whether I'm making the biggest mistake of my life."
Amelia stepped closer. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set. He wasn't pretending. He was genuinely afraid.
"You promised," she said.
"I know."
"Then open the door."
He turned to look at her. His eyes were dark, searching her face for something – doubt, fear, readiness.
"I'm not the man you think I am," he said.
"I don't think you're anything yet. That's why I need to see."
He held her gaze for a long moment. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a small key, and inserted it into the lock.
The click was loud in the silence.
Ethan pushed the door open.