Chapter 5

The next morning, sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting dappled shadows across my dressing room as I sat before the mirror, phone pressed to my ear.

"Mr. Hartwel? This is Isadora Sterling."

A surprised voice came through the phone: "Mrs. Sterling? Weren't you supposed to come in this morning to sign the divorce papers?"

"Stop all the divorce proceedings." My voice trembled slightly. "I need to reconsider."

"But ma'am, your instructions a few days ago were very clear."

"I know what I said!" I interrupted. "Things have changed. Put everything on hold until I notify you otherwise."

I hung up and stared at my pale reflection, Alexander's words from last night still echoing in my ears: "I've loved her for seven years, I can't just lose her like this."

I opened a drawer and retrieved a small recording device. Three days ago, while Alexander slept, I had secretly recorded the sound of him pressing the fingerprint lock. I'd originally planned to use it to collect financial evidence, but now it had a more urgent purpose.

What was he hiding in his secret room?

The sound of a car door slamming came from downstairs—Alexander had left for work. I took a deep breath and headed toward his study.

"Seven years... what has he been doing all this time?" I murmured to myself, my heart pounding like a drum.

The study was perfectly organized as always—the massive wooden desk, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and that seemingly ordinary wall. I recalled the sounds I'd heard last night; Alexander must have pressed something here.

I carefully ran my fingers along the wall surface, and suddenly my fingertips touched a slightly recessed area.

Found it! A hidden fingerprint scanner.

My hands shaking, I pressed the recording device against the scanner and played back the stolen fingerprint audio. Two beeps, a green light flashed.

The wall silently pushed inward, revealing a narrow passageway.

"My God..."

I stepped into the hidden room and was struck speechless by what I saw.

The entire wall was covered with photographs of me—magazine covers, runway shots, street photography, and even some candid photos I'd never seen before. All organized chronologically, starting from 2018, densely covering the entire wall.

"2018? I was still dating Thomas then..." My fingers traced one photo—me backstage at Paris Fashion Week, wearing a white bathrobe, looking tired but beautiful.

"I've never even seen these photos myself!"

I went further into the room and discovered something even more shocking: rows of elegant display cases, neatly arranged with various items. My perfume bottles, scarves, and even that missing La Perla lace lingerie set.

Each item had a date label, arranged by date.

March 2020: Chanel No.5 perfume (half bottle)

July 2021: Hermès scarf (with her perfume scent)

December 2021: Post-runway towel (with perspiration)

"He... he's been collecting my things?" My voice echoed tremblingly in the chamber.

Multiple screens in the corner showed surveillance footage—me reading in the garden, working out in the gym, even my daily activities in the bedroom. Some of those moments... I'd forgotten them myself, but he'd kept every single one.

I saw myself on the screens stretching on the balcony, humming in the bathroom, turning over in bed with a glimpse of my shoulder... every intimate moment had been silently recorded by him.

"He's been watching me... always watching..." My voice trembled violently.

I forced myself to look away and continued exploring this shocking chamber. In the deepest corner, an antique writing desk came into view with thick handwritten journals on top.

My hands trembling, I opened to the latest entries, Alexander's handwriting staring back at me:

"December 3rd, 2021: Got her lipstick from Paris today... I'm losing control. She wants a divorce, my world is collapsing. Maybe I should let her go, but I can't."

"December 5th, 2021: She rejected me today. I used her lingerie in the bathroom, it's the only way I can sleep. I'm sick, but I love her beyond reason."

"December 7th, 2021: That bastard Thomas wanted to hurt her back then. I hired a private investigator to stop his plan. She'll never know I orchestrated that 'accidental' car crash. I'd rather she hate me than let anyone harm her."

"What?" My hands began to tremble. "Thomas's car accident was arranged by him?"

I flipped to earlier entries:

"June 2018: First time seeing her, she was crying over Thomas's betrayal. I wanted to tell her she deserved better love. But I could only protect her from the shadows."

"February 2019: I've been following her for three months, making sure no other men could approach her. She's so fragile, she needs protection."

"October 2019: She moved to a new apartment, I rented the apartment across from hers, just to see her every day."

"He's been protecting me all along..." My vision blurred with tears. "And I wanted a divorce..."

There was a pile of used towels in the corner, some with fresh stains. I suddenly realized what they were, heat rushing to my cheeks.

Ding-dong—

The garage door beeped, then his car engine suddenly went quiet.

My heart stopped—Alexander was back? This early?

I heard keys rattling downstairs, followed by his footsteps moving toward the study.

I quickly shut the journal, checked to make sure I hadn't left any evidence, then crept out of the hidden room and pushed the door closed.

Footsteps echoed on the stairs.

I hurried back to the master bedroom, feeling like a burglar, shut the door, and leaned against it, trying to catch my breath.

But this time, there was something else mixed in with the fear.

I looked at myself in the mirror, a dangerous smile slowly spreading across my face.

Alexander, now it's my turn.