The moment I stepped inside the house, relief washed over me like warm water.
Finally. The day was over. I could disappear into my bed and pretend the world didn’t exist. I finally stop feeling this lump in my chest caused by the tension between Alec and I.
I closed the front door softly and headed straight for the kitchen, craving nothing more than a cold bottle of water. The chandelier lights reflected off the marble counters, making the whole kitchen glow with that familiar warm luxury I had grown up in — the kind that suddenly felt too big for me now.
“Hey, Rose.”
She jumped, almost dropping the bowl in her hands.
“Kyla,” she breathed out, pressing a hand to her chest. “You scared me.”
That was strange. Rose never startled. She was always sharp — quiet, observant, steady. Something in her eyes flickered… something nervous.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I closed the fridge gently. “Are you okay?”
She nodded a little too fast.
“Yeah. I’m okay. How was school?”
“Good,” I said automatically. “Let me go change first.”
Maybe by the time I came back, she’d tell me what was really wrong.
“Kyla, wait.”
I stopped, my hand resting lightly on the doorframe.
“You… have a visitor.”
My brows pinched.
“Who? Grandpa?”
“No.” She swallowed. “He’s in the study. I’ll take your bag. Go ahead.”
She snatched my schoolbag and practically hurried away.
A chill trickled down my spine.
I walked toward the study, pushed the door open — and froze.
“Ronald?” I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.
“Miss Davison,” he said in his strict lawyer voice, rising to greet me. “Finally, you’re here.”
“Why are you—?”
My words died when I noticed the man seated beside him.
His presence filled the room.
Silky black hair, cut neatly. An expensive black Armani suit tailored so perfectly it probably cost more than my first car. Clean-shaven jaw. Sharp features. Eyes dark and unreadable. He sat with a stillness that made the room feel smaller, colder.
He looked… strangely familiar.
A friend of Dad’s? Too young. Funeral? Maybe — I barely remembered anyone. Everything from that day was a blur of tears and black clothing.
“Miss Davison,” Ronald began, “the Will hasn’t been read yet. It’s time.”
Right. The Will. I had almost forgotten.
“Shouldn’t this be private?” I asked, glancing at the stranger.
“He needs to be here. You’ll understand once we begin.”
The mystery man didn’t look at me — didn’t look anywhere, actually. His expression was unreadable.
YOU ARE READING
Weight of The Untold
RomanceIn a world where wealth hides wounds and silence is currency, Kyla is carrying more than anyone knows. Behind oversized hoodies and carefully guarded smiles, she holds a secret powerful enough to change everything-one she's been forced to protect in...
