Chapter 3 - The Debt My Ex Left Behind
The voice came from the darkness.
"Hazel..."
She stopped breathing.
For a second, nobody moved.
The entire study was silent except for the sound of rain hitting the windows.
Damian’s hand tightened around the weapon he had pulled from beneath his jacket.
Marcus stood beside the door, ready.
Hazel stared at the handle.
Because she knew that voice.
She had spent months trying to convince herself she would never hear it again.
"Wyatt?"
Her whisper barely left her mouth.
The door handle stopped turning.
Then the lights came back on.
And nobody was there.
Marcus immediately opened the door.
The hallway was empty.
No footsteps.
No shadow.
Nothing.
But sitting on the floor outside the study was a small envelope.
Damian looked at it.
Then looked at Hazel.
"Stay behind me."
She wanted to argue.
She wanted to say she wasn't helpless.
But the truth was, her hands were shaking.
So she listened.
Marcus picked up the envelope carefully.
"No name."
Damian nodded.
"Open it."
Marcus used a knife to cut through the edge.
Inside was one piece of paper.
And one photograph.
He looked at the photograph first.
Then his expression changed.
Damian noticed.
"What?"
Marcus handed it over.
Hazel couldn't see the image clearly from where she stood.
But she saw Damian's face.
And that was enough.
Because Damian Romano was a man who rarely showed emotion.
Yet now, something moved behind his eyes.
"What is it?" Hazel asked.
Damian didn't answer.
"Damian."
Slowly, he turned the photograph around.
Hazel looked.
And her entire body went cold.
It was Wyatt.
Standing beside Frankie Sullivan.
But that wasn't what shocked her.
It was the person standing on Wyatt's other side.
Someone she recognized.
Someone who should not have been there.
Because it was Damian Romano’s own security officer.
The same man who had protected the estate for years.
The same man who had been inside this house tonight.
Marcus.
Hazel looked at him.
Then back at Damian.
"No."
Marcus immediately shook his head.
"That's impossible."
Damian studied the photo.
"When was this taken?"
Marcus took the picture.
"The date isn't printed."
Hazel stepped closer.
"But that's Wyatt."
Nobody questioned that.
Because it was.
The man she had loved.
The man who had promised they would build a future together.
The man who disappeared and left her drowning in someone else's crime.
He had been standing next to Frankie Sullivan.
Smiling.
Like he belonged there.
Hazel felt something break inside her.
"I don't understand."
Damian looked at her.
"Neither do I."
She laughed quietly.
A painful sound.
"That's not possible."
Damian didn't respond.
Because he knew something she didn't.
People disappeared for reasons.
People betrayed others for reasons.
But Wyatt had left behind too many questions.
And now, those questions were leading back to her.
Marcus looked at Damian.
"There has to be another explanation."
Damian handed the photograph back.
"Find one."
Marcus nodded and left.
Hazel remained still.
The room felt different now.
Before, she had been afraid of Frankie Sullivan.
Now she wasn't sure who she should fear.
"Damian."
He looked at her.
"Was he using me?"
The question was quiet.
Almost impossible to hear.
But Damian heard it.
"Maybe."
She looked away.
That answer hurt more than a lie.
"You're supposed to tell me it isn't true."
"I don't lie to you."
Hazel closed her eyes.
She hated that.
She hated that Damian was always honest even when honesty hurt.
"He said he loved me."
Damian said nothing.
"He said everything he did was for us."
Her voice cracked.
"And I believed him."
For the first time, Damian looked less like a mafia boss.
And more like a man who understood betrayal.
"How much did you know about his business?"
Hazel wiped her eyes quickly.
"Nothing."
"Think carefully."
"I already told you. He didn't tell me."
"Did he ever leave anything behind?"
She hesitated.
The question seemed simple.
But suddenly, it wasn't.
Because there was something.
A memory.
A small moment she had ignored.
The night before Wyatt disappeared.
He had come home late.
Very late.
He was nervous.
Not angry.
Not drunk.
Afraid.
Hazel remembered waking up and finding him sitting on the edge of their bed.
Holding something.
She had asked what it was.
He had hidden it immediately.
"What was it?"
His answer had been strange.
"Insurance."
At the time, she thought he meant money.
A backup plan.
A way out.
But now...
"I think he left something."
Damian looked at her.
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Where?"
Hazel shook her head.
"I don't know."
His expression became more serious.
"But you remember something."
She looked down.
"The night before he disappeared."
"Tell me."
Hazel took a breath.
"He came home around two in the morning."
"What did he have?"
"A small black box."
Damian's eyes narrowed.
"What kind of box?"
"I don't know. I never saw inside."
"Where is it now?"
Hazel looked toward the window.
"I thought he took it."
"You didn't check?"
"He was gone the next morning."
Damian stepped closer.
"Where did you last see it?"
Hazel closed her eyes.
Trying to remember.
The apartment.
The bedroom.
The kitchen.
Then suddenly...
"The closet."
Damian watched her.
"Why?"
"Because when I came home after he disappeared, I found the closet door open."
"Did you search it?"
"No."
"Why?"
Hazel gave a small, embarrassed smile.
"Because I was too busy crying."
The honesty of that answer made Damian pause.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
Because he understood.
Hazel had spent months trying to survive.
Not investigate.
Not solve mysteries.
Just survive.
Damian picked up his phone.
"We're going to her apartment."
Hazel looked surprised.
"Now?"
"Yes."
"But Frankie might be watching."
"He probably is."
She stared.
"Then why would we go?"
Damian looked at her.
"Because if Wyatt left something behind, we need to find it before they do."
The answer was simple.
But the way he said it made Hazel believe him.
For the first time in months, she felt like she wasn't alone.
That feeling disappeared twenty minutes later.
Because when Damian's security team arrived at Hazel's old apartment building, the door was already open.
The hallway was empty.
Too empty.
Damian raised a hand.
Everyone stopped.
Hazel stood behind him.
Her heart started racing.
"This is my apartment."
Damian looked at the damaged lock.
Someone had broken in.
Recently.
Inside, everything was destroyed.
Drawers opened.
Clothes thrown across the floor.
Furniture overturned.
Someone had been searching.
Hazel walked slowly inside.
Her memories were everywhere.
The old couch.
The small kitchen.
The place where Wyatt used to make coffee every morning.
Except now it looked like someone had torn her life apart looking for something.
Damian noticed something on the floor.
A piece of paper.
He picked it up.
Hazel stepped closer.
"What is it?"
He looked at the handwriting.
And his expression changed.
Because he recognized it.
"Damian?"
He handed the paper to her.
Only three words were written.
Three words in Wyatt's handwriting.
I TRUST HER.
Hazel stared.
"Who?"
Damian looked around the apartment.
"That's what we need to find out."
Then Hazel noticed something.
The closet.
The one Wyatt had opened before disappearing.
The door was slightly closed.
But not completely.
She walked toward it.
"Wait."
Damian's voice stopped her.
But Hazel looked inside.
Because something was hanging from the handle.
A key.
And attached to it was a small metal tag.
With one word engraved on it.
ROMANO.
Damian stepped closer.
His face went completely still.
Because Hazel had not been the only person Wyatt had been hiding secrets from.
May you like
Then the closet door slowly opened by itself...
And someone whispered from inside the apartment.
