Mr. Grey-Book I

33

Emilia

Sleep eluded me as I tossed and turned, my mind racing with the evening's revelations. Finally, I let out a frustrated groan into my pillow, giving up on the idea of rest. Sitting up, I leaned against the headboard, my thoughts drifting back to our conversation by the pool.

A few hours earlier:

Damien's voice was low, tinged with old pain as he recounted his childhood memories. "I didn't understand it at first, but as I got older, things started to make sense. There was this man, Philip Payne, who was always at our house when my father was away on business. I'd see them disappear into the office for hours, emerging later with rumpled clothes and messy hair."

He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "Once, I worked up the courage to ask my mother about it. She made me promise not to tell anyone, claiming they were just 'business partners.' Being young and gullible, I kept quiet."

I gently squeezed his hand, encouraging him to go on.

"One morning, I woke up and my parents were arguing. Apparently, my mother was pregnant and had tried to pass it off as my father's. But he already knew about the affair." Damien's jaw clenched. "After that fight, she just... vanished."

"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I hate dredging up this shit."

My heart ached for him. "I'm so sorry. We don't have to continue—"

"No," he cut me off, his grip on my hand tightening. "You asked for it. Now you're going to listen."

I nodded, even though he couldn't see it. "I'm sorry. I thought talking might help, but—"

He waved off my apology, pressing on. "I was eight when she came back. It felt like meeting a stranger. She claimed she'd given the baby up for adoption, and my father... he took her back like nothing had happened. He's a good man, and it makes him vulnerable."

Damien's voice dropped to a whisper. "A week later, Philip Payne and his family were found shot dead in their Georgia apartment."

I gasped. "Did she...?" I couldn't finish the question.

"I don't know," Damien admitted, his unseeing eyes focused on some distant point.

I'd always known Mrs. Grey was manipulative, but murder? Surely there had to be another explanation. "Is Danish Rob...?" I began, piecing it together.

"Yes," Damien confirmed. "He's that child."

I swallowed hard, my hand instinctively moving to my belly. "What does he want?"

"Payback, I guess."

"Did he kill Elena?"

"No." He said with certainty.

Present:

Unable to shake my unease, I glanced at my phone. 3:30 AM. Sleep wasn't coming, and I found myself drawn to check on Damien.

I padded quietly to his room, finding the door slightly ajar. Peeking in, I saw him lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He wore a simple black V-neck shirt and loose sweatpants, looking unexpectedly vulnerable.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered, sensing my presence.

"No," I admitted softly, moving to sit on the edge of his bed.

"You can stay here tonight," he offered, his tone a mix of invitation and plea.

After a moment's hesitation, I whispered, "Okay."

I slid under the covers, turning to face him. His sightless hazel eyes still held a hint of distress, but there was also unmistakable relief in them. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close until my head rested under his chin.

We lay in comforting silence, but questions still nagged at me. Gathering my courage, I lifted my head. "Can I ask you something?"

He sighed lightly but nodded.

"Why Kim?" I blurted out, immediately regretting my lack of tact. Silence stretched between us. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—" I began, but Damien cut me off.

"I need to find my father," he said, his voice cracking.

I sat up straight, alarm coursing through me. "Danish has your father?"

"Yes," Damien whispered, the single word heavy with fear.

Vote and comment