Selene's POV
The morning after our lake night still clung to my skin like warmth from a fire. Antonio had left early for meetings, and I returned to our little apartment above the studio. The scent of coffee and almond soap lingered in the air. Everything felt… right.
Until I opened my inbox.
There it was—an email with no subject line.
> From: Unverified
To: selene.adele@couturelights.fr
Attachment: "You Think You Know Him.mp4"
Message: Truth comes quietly. Watch before you fall too deep.
My heart dropped.
I clicked, hesitation a bitter taste on my tongue.
The video was shaky, low quality. At first, nothing but street sounds. Then a conversation—Antonio's voice, clearly younger, talking fast, desperate.
> "I didn't have a choice. It was his operation. I kept my mouth shut."
Another man's voice—deep, firm. "You do realize if this leaks, you're going down too."
> "He was hurting people. I just… I didn't have proof."
The video cut abruptly.
My fingers trembled.
I replayed the voice in my head. He sounded scared. Guilty. And young—this had to be years ago. But about what?
Before I could think, my phone buzzed.
Ayra: "Selene, we need to talk. It's urgent. Meet me at the gallery. Bring no one."
My pulse roared.
This wasn't just about Antonio anymore.
Something from his past—something dangerous—was clawing its way into our present. And I wasn't sure if love alone would be enough to hold us steady.
Antonio's POV
I should've known the past wouldn't stay buried.
The deal with the French-Japanese investors was sealed by 10 a.m., but I couldn't focus on the celebratory champagne. Something had been gnawing at me for days. Little signs. Shifts in energy. Selene had been quieter. Not distant, but guarded. And Ayra—she had started avoiding long eye contact, like she knew something I didn't.
My phone buzzed in my coat pocket.
From Ayra: "She saw it."
I stopped breathing.
I ducked out of the glass building and into the alley behind the café. The same one I used to smoke in when I needed to clear my head. The cold air helped little this time.
Selene saw the video.
That video. The one I had buried with every ounce of effort, shame, and silence. My past. The mistakes I made trying to protect people, trying to survive a situation that spiraled out of control.
Victor wasn't the only demon in our history. There had been others. And once… once I was almost part of something worse.
I called Ayra.
She picked up on the second ring, her voice low. "She hasn't said anything yet. She just… looked pale. Then left."
"She's going to ask questions," I said.
"She deserves answers."
I closed my eyes, resting my head against the cold wall. "I was twenty. Just twenty. I thought I could fix it without losing anyone."
"You need to tell her everything," Ayra said, her voice tight. "Before someone else does."
"I will," I said. "Tonight."
I hung up and stared at the Parisian sky, now faded with clouds.
This wasn't just about love anymore.
This was about trust. About whether the woman I loved could see the broken pieces of who I'd been—and still want to stay.
And I wasn't sure if I'd earned that kind of grace.