Chapter 5: He Reminds Me of Something I Buried
Selena didn't sleep that night. Not fully. Her body shut down in intervals, but her mind never stopped spinning.
She kept going back to the message.
"Nice view from your balcony last night."
No name. No threat.
Just presence.
That's what unsettled her.
Whoever he was, he didn't need to shout to be noticed.
And that was power.
By morning, her face looked flawless. The makeup did its job. But inside, her thoughts were jagged. Sharp where they shouldn't be. Too loud for silence.
She walked into the Ward & Hayes tower like nothing was wrong. But even the elevator music felt different today—like it was waiting for something to drop.
Ava, her assistant, was already waiting by her desk. She looked uncomfortable.
"You asked me to dig into Daniel Knight?" she said, quietly.
Selena nodded once. "What did you find?"
Ava hesitated. "That's the thing. Not much."
"Be more specific."
"He doesn't have a digital footprint before two years ago. No university records. No press interviews, no family details, not even old social media. The Daniel Knight who exists today just… showed up."
Selena's fingers froze mid-air.
"I checked reverse photo search tools," Ava added, lowering her voice. "Some of his press pictures aren't even original. They're composites. AI-processed or masked. Carefully."
Selena stared at her, throat tightening.
"You think it's a fake identity?" she asked.
"I don't know," Ava said, "but I've worked with billionaires. None of them are this clean."
Selena canceled her afternoon meetings and sat in her office with the blinds down.
No light. No distractions.
Just the ache in her temples—and a name she couldn't get out of her head.
Daniel Knight.
Or whoever he really was.
She kept thinking of his voice. The cadence. The way he didn't react when Julian tried to dominate the conversation.
He wasn't afraid of power.
Because he'd already lived through something worse.
She opened her drawer slowly and pulled out a small silver case she hadn't touched in years.
Inside—old photos.
Back when she wasn't a name. Just a girl. Just someone following orders, trying to climb a ladder without falling.
One of the photos made her hand stop.
It was a picture taken outside the courtroom. She was walking away. Face blank. Bag in hand.
She remembered that day. The weight of cameras. The sting of guilt.
She remembered the man who stood inside while she walked out.
But she couldn't remember his face.
That evening, at an industry gala hosted by a rival firm, Selena was supposed to appear beside Julian for fifteen minutes before slipping away.
It was part of the image.
Show up. Smile. Leave.
Julian arrived late. She stood alone at the bar, sipping sparkling water, ignoring the conversations floating around her like background noise.
Then she heard it.
A voice behind her. Casual. Low.
"I never liked this place."
She turned slowly.
Daniel Knight stood there. Same calm face. Same quiet intensity.
But his tie was slightly undone. Hair a little less perfect. There was something human about him tonight—and that made it worse.
"Mr. Knight," she said, trying to keep her tone even.
"Selena," he replied.
Just her name. No 'Miss Hayes'. No formal mask.
Her grip on the glass tightened slightly.
"You seem... everywhere lately," she said.
He smiled, slow. "Funny. I could say the same."
"Are you following me?"
"If I were, you wouldn't see me."
That made her flinch. Barely. But he saw it.
He stepped closer—just enough to make the air feel heavier.
"You seem uncomfortable," he said.
"Should I be?"
He tilted his head. "Only if you're trying to remember something."
She looked away for a split second. That's all it took.
In her head—
A flash.
A name.
A hand reaching through courtroom bars.
Her voice, years younger, whispering: "I'm sorry. I have to survive too."
She blinked, pulling herself back to now.
"You're very observant," she said tightly.
"It's a useful trait. Especially in places where everyone's lying."
She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Julian appeared beside her.
"There you are," he said, placing a firm hand around her waist. "Knight, we meet again."
Daniel turned without losing his composure. "You throw good parties."
"I don't throw them. I own the people who do," Julian said with a smile.
Selena barely registered the fake laughter they exchanged.
Her mind was still stuck on that whisper from her past.
Later, back in the penthouse, Julian poured himself a drink while Selena sat at the edge of the bed, unusually silent.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine."
"You've barely said five words since the gala."
"I've had a headache all day."
Julian studied her. "Daniel Knight again?"
She glanced at him.
"What do you mean?"
"I saw the way you looked at him."
Selena straightened. "I wasn't looking at him."
"Yes, you were," he said, voice calm but firm. "And not like you look at anyone else."
She didn't answer.
Julian set the glass down harder than necessary.
"Just be careful," he added.
"With him?"
"With your expression."
Selena stood up. "I'm tired."
"Go ahead," he said, walking to the balcony. "I'll stay up."
In the dark, in bed, Selena stared at the ceiling.
The whisper in her head wouldn't stop.
"I'm sorry. I have to survive too."
She had said that.
To someone.
To a man who trusted her.
To someone she left.
She rolled over, pulled open her nightstand drawer, and found an old phone—the one she hadn't powered on in years.
She charged it silently. Waited.
When the screen lit up, so did her chest.
An old wallpaper. Her. Someone else's arm in the photo, cropped out. A piece of a black jacket. A watch.
She stared at the watch.
It was the same one Daniel Knight wore.
Her breath caught.
No.
No.
This couldn't be.
Across the city, Adrian looked up from his screen.
A message blinked to life on his phone.
Location alert: Unknown device reactivated in Sector 3.
Device linked to subject: Selena Hayes.
He didn't smile.
He just leaned back and whispered to himself:
"She's starting to remember."
[To Be Continued...]