Chapter 5

The Ghost of Eight Years

Brielle

I stayed in that bathroom stall even after Arlo and Lorna left.

My hands squeezed the mop handle so tightly my knuckles turned white while my brain replayed every single word they said.

Jacob did well by killing his parents in that house fire.

The words bounced around my skull like a curse.

A house fire.

But Marcello told me my father killed them. My breathing turned uneven again.

No.

No, no, no.

Had he really destroyed my life over a lie?

I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to think like an investigator instead of a traumatised woman spiralling in a public restroom.

Facts first.

I didn’t know who Arlo and Lorna were and I didn’t know if they were telling the truth.

And I definitely couldn’t run to Marcello Hayes and scream that I overheard strangers confessing to murder in a toilet stall.

Especially not after eight years, especially not after everything.

A loud knock sounded against the restroom door, nearly making me jump out of my skin.

“Miss Atwick?” a woman’s voice called. “Are you done in there? Mr Rossi said the executive hall still needs cleaning.”

Shit.

“Y-Yeah!” I quickly grabbed my supplies. “Coming!”

I waited until her footsteps faded before stepping out carefully.

The restroom looked normal, like two people hadn’t casually discussed murder beside the sinks five minutes ago.

I moved toward the mirror and splashed water on my face.

My reflection stared back at me, pale and unsettled.

“Get it together, Brielle,” I whispered. “You have a job to do.”

The executive floor was ridiculously luxurious. Dark marble floors, gold detailing and Tall glass windows overlooking the city.

Even the air smelled expensive.

I pushed my cleaning cart quietly down the hallway, keeping my head lowered the same way every employee here did whenever someone important walked by.

The trick to undercover work wasn’t blending in.

It was becoming forgettable.

A secretary hurried past me carrying files.

Two men in suits argued near the elevators.

Someone laughed from inside an office.

Yet underneath all this polished luxury was something rotten enough for them to investigate.

I turned to another hallway and stopped in front of a large set of double doors.

CEO.

The gold lettering practically mocked me.

Marcello Hayes.

My stomach twisted. Eight years later, seeing his name still did horrible things to me.

I hated that. Hated that my body still remembered him. The warmth of his hands, the sound of his voice late at night.

The way he’d pull me against his chest, as if I belonged there after ruining my entire life. I swallowed hard and forced the memories down.

This wasn’t the time.

I adjusted my gloves and started wiping down the nearby wall frames when the elevator behind me dinged.

Footsteps sounded across the floor, my instincts immediately screamed at me to keep my head down.

“Move the meeting to seven,” a deep voice said smoothly. “I won’t be available before then.”

My hand froze mid-wipe.

No.

No way.

That voice, a chill crawled up my spine. I knew that voice better than I knew my own. Slowly, against my own judgement, I looked up.

And there he was.

Marcello Hayes.

Time hit him unfairly well. The last time I’d seen him, he was twenty-eight and devastatingly handsome.

Now?

Now he looked lethal.

A tailored black suit clung to his broad frame like it had been stitched onto him personally. His dark hair was pushed back neatly, exposing sharp cheekbones and those familiar green eyes that used to look at me like I was both a burden and a temptation.

The air around him felt heavier somehow.

More dangerous.

Two men walked behind him, talking quietly, but Marcello barely acknowledged them as he walked down the hall.

Confident and untouchable.

My chest tightened painfully. For one stupid second, memories crashed into me so hard I forgot how to breathe.

His hands on my waist.

His mouth against my neck.

The sound of him laughing softly at something I’d said years ago. I hated myself for remembering any of it.

Then his eyes landed on me, Everything inside me stopped. Marcello slowed slightly Not enough to draw attention.

But enough.

His eyes swept over me once.

Twice.

Recognition didn’t flash immediately, Why would it?

I looked nothing like the terrified eighteen-year-old girl he once locked inside a mansion.

My blonde hair was darker now, cut shorter around my shoulders. I wore oversized cleaning clothes, no makeup, glasses I didn’t need and a fake name clipped onto my uniform.

Still…

Something in his expression shifted, A faint crease appeared between his brows. My pulse slammed violently against my ribs.

Look down.

LOOK DOWN, BRIELLE.

I forced myself to lower my gaze and continued wiping the wall like my life depended on it.

Because honestly? It probably did.

The hallway fell silent except for the sound of approaching footsteps.

Closer.

Closer.

Then they stopped directly in front of me. Oh God. I gripped the cloth tighter.

“Lift your head.”

That voice.

Lower now.

Every nerve in my body locked up.

One of the guards shifted impatiently nearby but Marcello didn’t say anything else.

Slowly, I looked up.

Up close, he looked even worse for my sanity. Those green eyes narrowed slightly as they searched my face. I saw the exact moment unease passed through him.

Not full recognition, it looked more like familiarity. “You’re new,” he said.

I forced my expression into something blank and harmless. “Yes, sir.”

My voice almost betrayed me.

Almost.

His eyes stayed on me for a bit too long.

“You work under Carlo?”

“Yes.”

Another stretch of silence.

God, he used silence like a weapon.

Marcello tilted his head slightly, studying me harder.

“You look nervous.”

Because you murdered my parents and kidnapped me for two years, I screamed in my head. Swallowing the words before they could escape.

“I’m sorry, sir, first day,” I said with a shrug.

One of the men behind him chuckled. “Relax. Mr Hayes doesn’t bite.”

My stomach turned at the irony.

Marcello didn’t laugh.

His eyes stayed on mine for another second before he finally stepped back.

“Get back to work.”

Relief nearly buckled my knees.

“Yes, sir.”

He turned smoothly and continued down the hall with the others following close behind.

I stayed frozen until they disappeared behind the office doors.

Only then did I release the breath I had trapped inside my lungs.

Holy shit.

That was too close.

Way too close.

My hands trembled violently now.

Not from fear alone.

From anger.

Because after everything…

After eight whole years…

One look at Marcello Hayes still had the power to wreck me completely.

I hated him for that.

And somehow, deep down, that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was the split second when our eyes met, a tiny broken piece of me had still remembered what it felt like to be with him.