Chapter 32 – Whispers from the Past
Chapter 32 – Whispers from the Past
Aurora stared at the link for what felt like an eternity.
Venice Archives.
The title alone sounded like a chapter in a spy thriller, not something meant to land in the lap of a woman recovering from public humiliation and an ex who haunted her dreams like clockwork.
“Are you going to open it,” Luca asked, “or should I go find popcorn first?”
His voice broke the tension. She gave him a sideways glance. “You’re making jokes while I spiral. That’s comforting.”
“Spiraling is your thing. Humor is mine. Balance.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I saw your soul leave your body when that link popped up.”
“I don’t think I want to know what’s inside.”
“Which means you definitely need to know.”
She sighed and tapped the link. A folder opened—timestamped videos, some grainy footage, some clearer. One was labeled “Damon – Venice, 2021.” Her finger hesitated above it.
Then she pressed play.
Damon appeared, wearing a black hoodie, his expression guarded. The camera followed him down a cobbled street in Venice at night. He ducked into a shadowy alley and whispered to someone out of frame.
“You have to go now. They know. If you stay—if I stay—we both go down.”
A woman’s voice replied, “You’re not a hero, Damon. You’re just a man who made a deal.”
Damon flinched. “I made a mistake. But I won’t let you pay for it.”
Aurora’s mouth went dry. Luca leaned in, his brow furrowed.
“Who’s she?” he asked.
“No idea.” Aurora shook her head slowly. “But he looks… scared. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Scared or guilty?”
Aurora didn’t answer. Her heart was too busy thudding against her ribs.
Luca poured her another glass of wine and added, “So… we’re just casually watching your ex act like Jason Bourne now?”
“Apparently.”
“You’ve got a type, don’t you?”
She gave a small laugh. “Broody, mysterious, and emotionally unavailable?”
“I was going to say dangerously handsome and mildly unhinged, but sure, yours works too.”
For a brief moment, the tension lifted. Aurora leaned back against the couch, swirling her wine.
“What does this mean?” she whispered. “Why is someone sending me these?”
“Maybe they want you to see him for who he really is.”
“Or maybe,” she said, eyes darkening, “they want to destroy us both.”
---
Across the city, Damon sat in a low-lit lounge, an untouched glass of scotch in front of him. Celeste had left after dropping her cryptic black envelope, and now he couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls were slowly closing in.
His phone buzzed.
A message from an anonymous number.
You buried it. But it didn’t stay dead.
You’ll have to choose who burns.
Damon’s jaw clenched. He deleted the message instantly. Then he leaned back and muttered to himself, “Fantastic. Cryptic poetry. That’s always a good sign.”
Just then, Marcus, one of his longest-serving bodyguards, appeared in the doorway, holding a plate with a single sandwich.
“What the hell is this?” Damon asked.
“Turkey and cheese. You haven’t eaten in sixteen hours.”
Damon gave him a look.
Marcus shrugged. “Look, boss, I’m not saying emotional starvation is a bad plan. I’m just saying dead billionaires don’t get revenge.”
“…Fair.”
Marcus set the plate down and turned to leave.
“And Marcus?”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever see Celeste and a wax-sealed envelope again—burn them both.”
Marcus grinned. “I’ll bring marshmallows.”
---
Back in Aurora’s suite, Luca had taken over the kitchen with the enthusiasm of a man determined to distract her by any means necessary.
“I make a mean midnight risotto,” he declared, pulling out ingredients.
“You cook now?”
“I am a man of many talents. Some say too many.”
Aurora sat on a barstool, watching him toss chopped onions into a pan. “You’re doing this to keep me from opening the rest of those videos.”
“Yes. And also because your fridge is full of sad yogurts and judgmental celery.”
She smiled despite herself.
“Luca…”
He glanced up, meeting her eyes.
“If I fall for you,” she said softly, “will it be fair to you?”
He paused, spatula in midair. “No.”
She blinked.
“But I’ll take it anyway,” he added with a shrug. “You think love is about fairness? It’s about madness. Risk. Terrible choices made with full awareness.”
“That’s a terrible sales pitch.”
“And yet, I’m still here,” he said, stirring with unnecessary flair. “Now, shut up and let me seduce you with carbohydrates.”
---
By the time Aurora crawled into bed, her phone buzzed again.
Another message.
No words. Just a photo this time.
A blurry image of her and Damon—taken years ago, laughing, carefree, her hand on his chest.
She hadn’t even known the photo existed.
Beneath it, a single line:
“Remember what it felt like before the lies?”
Her chest tightened.
She closed the phone and turned onto her side, eyes shut tight.
Sleep came slowly.
And with it, the dream.
---
In the dream, Damon stood in a candlelit room, his shirt half unbuttoned, shadows playing across his face.
“You were always the only one,” he said, voice husky.
She moved to him, fingers grazing the skin above his heart.
“You left me,” she whispered.
“I lost myself. But I never stopped loving you.”
He leaned down, their foreheads touching.
“I dream of you every night,” he murmured.
“You shouldn’t.”
“I can’t help it.”
Their lips brushed—
Aurora jolted awake.
---
Morning sunlight poured through the windows like liquid gold. She blinked at the ceiling, heart hammering.
From the hallway, Luca’s groggy voice called, “I burned the risotto, but I’ve got toast. It’s not as romantic, but it’s crunchy.”
Aurora pulled the covers over her face and groaned.
Of course he burned the risotto.
Of course he made toast.
And of course she was still dreaming about Damon.
---
Across Milan, a shadowed figure watched both screens—one showing Aurora asleep, the other Damon pacing in his office.
A soft chuckle escaped their lips.
“So predictable,” they murmured.
Then they opened a new file.
Titled: Operation Phoenix.
Phase Two: Initiate.