(Isabelle's POV)
The silence after the storm was always the loudest.
The sound of the clock ticking across the room echoed in the villa like a heartbeat steady, sharp, unforgiving.
Sebastian had fallen asleep hours ago, or at least she thought he had. His breathing had evened beside her, his arm still heavy around her waist. But even in sleep, there was tension in him a man who never truly rested.
And Isabelle couldn't sleep either.
Not after what had happened between them. Not after the look in his eyes when he'd said "Don't lie to me."
She turned carefully in bed, studying his face in the dim light spilling from the fireplace. He looked peaceful, almost human. But she knew what lay beneath that calm secrets, scars, the ghost of Evelyn.
The name alone made her chest tighten.
She hadn't meant to say it. She'd promised herself she'd wait that she'd gather more proof before pushing him. But when he looked at her like that, with that quiet accusation burning behind his eyes, the truth had spilled out before she could stop it.
Now, she couldn't stop thinking about it.
Evelyn. The woman no one dared mention. The name buried in half-truths and missing records. The one piece of Sebastian's past that didn't fit anywhere neatly and the one he guarded like a grave.
And then there was the photograph.
The one she shouldn't have seen.
It had been weeks ago, hidden behind a false drawer in his study a picture, worn at the edges, of a woman with sharp eyes and a soft smile.
Isabelle had stared at it for a long time, her pulse racing. Because Evelyn looked almost like her.
Not identical, but enough to make her stomach twist.
When she'd shown the photo to Liam in secret, he'd gone pale and told her to forget she ever saw it. That was when she knew Evelyn wasn't just a ghost. She was a warning.
And now, after tonight, Isabelle was sure of it.
Sebastian's reaction had confirmed her fears.
Whatever Evelyn's story was, it wasn't finished. And she was tangled in it.
Slowly, Isabelle lifted Sebastian's arm off her and slipped out of bed. The floor was cool beneath her bare feet. She wrapped one of his shirts around herself and moved silently across the room.
She paused by the door, glancing back at him one last time.
He hadn't moved. His chest rose and fell evenly.
Good.
She turned the handle slowly and slipped out into the dark hallway.
The villa was still the kind of silence that pressed against your ears. Moonlight filtered through the tall windows, laying pale stripes across the floor. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed once.
She followed the corridor toward his office.
Her hands trembled as she reached for the door, half afraid it would creak. It didn't. The hinges moved quietly, as if even the walls knew to keep her secret.
Inside, the air was colder. The faint scent of whiskey and cedar clung to everything him, his world, his ghosts.
The desk was immaculate, as always. But Isabelle knew him well enough now to know that the real secrets never sat in plain sight.
She went to the bookshelf first, tracing her fingers along the spines. Most of the titles were unmarked ledgers, business reports, blank notebooks. But near the top shelf, she noticed something odd: one of the books was slightly out of line, pulled forward by half an inch.
She tugged it gently. It didn't move.
Then she pressed.
A quiet click.
The shelf shifted forward an inch, revealing a hidden compartment behind it. Isabelle's heart leapt into her throat.
Inside were files old, sealed in plastic, some marked with faded initials. And in the corner, another photograph, tucked inside a worn envelope.
She pulled it out carefully and unfolded the paper.
The picture was the same woman Evelyn standing beside a younger Sebastian. He was smiling in this one, a real smile, the kind Isabelle had never seen. But behind them was something chilling the crest of a company she recognized: Blackthorne Holdings.
Damon Blackthorne's empire.
Her stomach turned cold.
The same name tied to her father's death.
She stared at the photo, her fingers shaking. What was Evelyn's connection to Damon? And what did Sebastian have to do with it?
The more she stared, the more questions twisted through her chest like vines.
She set the picture down and reached for one of the files.
Inside were reports transactions, dates, and one name repeated several times.
Project Eden.
She frowned. There were mentions of shipments, disappearances, and coded payments all dated years ago, before she met Sebastian.
She was halfway through scanning the last page when she froze.
There, at the bottom, was a signature.
Evelyn Laurent.
And right beneath it
Witness Sebastian Wolfe.
Her heart nearly stopped.
He had lied to her.
Evelyn hadn't just been someone he'd lost she had worked with him.
Her head spun. The files slipped from her hand and scattered across the floor.
"What are you doing?"
The voice came from behind her low, calm, but unmistakable.
Isabelle froze. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she turned.
Sebastian stood in the doorway, shirt half unbuttoned, his expression unreadable. Shadows carved across his face, catching the glint of something dangerous in his eyes.
"I asked you a question," he said softly, stepping into the room.
She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. "I, I couldn't sleep."
"And you decided to break into my study?"
Her pulse pounded. "I needed to understand, Sebastian. You keep saying you want to protect me, but you won't even tell me from what."
He stopped in front of her, gaze flicking to the papers at her feet. His jaw tightened. "You shouldn't have seen that."
"Then maybe you shouldn't keep hiding it!" she snapped, voice trembling. "Who was she? What was Project Eden? And why are you tied to Blackthorne?"
His silence was worse than a lie.
She took a step closer, tears burning her eyes. "Tell me the truth, Sebastian. Please."
He looked at her really looked and for a fleeting second, his expression cracked. There was something in his eyes that looked like regret.
Then, softly, he said, "You don't want the truth, Isabelle. Not about Evelyn. Not about me."
"Yes, I do."
He stepped forward, his presence almost suffocating. "If you dig into this, you won't come back the same. None of us did."
Her voice trembled. "You mean she didn't."
He didn't answer.
That silence was her answer.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she whispered, "You loved her, didn't you?"
Sebastian's jaw clenched, but he didn't look away. "Once."
The word broke her.
She turned from him, her chest tight with pain she couldn't name. "Then maybe you should've let me burn with the rest of your secrets."
Before he could stop her, she walked out the sound of the door echoing behind her like the closing of a coffin.
Sebastian didn't follow.
He just stood there, surrounded by the scattered ghosts of his past.
When he finally bent down, he picked up the photo of Evelyn and stared at it for a long time. Then, with a cold, deliberate motion, he tore it in half.