Chapter 14 Doubts
Adrian's POV
I didn’t sleep. The whole night stretched out like a punishment, long and suffocating. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her Rielle, or whatever she wanted to call herself, standing a few feet away from me backstage with that cold, unreadable expression.
The same expression Arielle used to wear whenever she felt cornered, or when she was hurt but refused to show it.
I lay awake staring at the ceiling until the faint light of dawn began to leak into the room, but even that didn’t help. The darkness inside my head felt thicker than the shadows outside.
I kept telling myself I was overreacting. That grief was playing tricks on me. That seeing someone with Arielle’s face was bound to rattle me. Anyone would be shaken by something like that. But my body refused to calm down. My chest was tight, my hands restless, my mind a whirlwind.
Because deep down, beneath all the logic and denial, a part of me whispered that I had not imagined it.
Arielle. Could she really still be alive?
“No,” I muttered under my breath, rubbing both hands over my face in frustration. “No, that’s impossible.”
But the word didn’t bring comfort.
The image of the charred remains found in the ruins of her home flashed in my mind. The fire had consumed everything so quickly. Too quickly. By the time the rescue team put it out, the damage was catastrophic.
They said the body belonged to Arielle. It matched her height and her structure. She had been declared dead. I went to the funeral myself. I stood over the closed coffin and forced myself to accept that the woman I once loved was inside it, sealed forever and yet here I was, unable to shake the feeling that I had seen her again.
I shoved off the rumpled sheets and paced the length of my bedroom. The floorboards creaked under my feet, the coldness of the air scraping against my skin. I grabbed my phone, then tossed it back onto the bed. I poured water, then set the glass down untouched. Nothing grounded me. Nothing made sense.
Rielle looked like Arielle. Moved like Arielle. There was a familiarity in the way she tilted her head, in the slight quiver in her voice when she lied. Even the way she breathed felt like a memory clawed out of the past. It felt like looking at her twin.
But her eyes…those eyes that once held softness and warmth now looked like polished glass. Empty. Guarded and Sharp. If she was truly Arielle, then she hated me. That much was painfully obvious and maybe she had every right to.
The memories of that night surfaced again, uninvited. Flames swallowed her house. Smoke filling the sky. The horror, the chaos and the panicked calls. Mira’s face pale with shock. My own heart was cracking as I watched the fire consume the place she once called home.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “She died,” I whispered to myself. “She died. I buried her. I saw the coffin.”
But doubt continued to drip through the cracks of my mind like poison.
By morning, I had grown desperate for distraction. I dressed quickly, trying to look like a man who had slept, a man who wasn’t coming apart inside. I drove to my office in silence, gripping the wheel tightly.
The moment I sat at my desk, I dropped my head into my hands and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the storm inside me.
A sharp knock on my office door jolted me upright.
“Come in,” I said, my voice hoarse.
The door opened, and Mira stepped inside with tension stiffening her posture. She didn’t greet me. Didn’t smile. Instead, she marched up to my desk with an urgency I didn’t like.
Without a word, she placed her phone in front of me.
“Look,” she said.
I glanced down and my heartbeat stuttered. A photo filled the screen.
Rielle and Zane seated closely together at a Paris café. Her hair tied loosely, framing her face in soft waves. Zane leaned toward her with a familiarity that spoke volumes. His eyes fixed on her. Hers slightly lowered, timid in a way that tugged at something painful inside me.
The scene looked intimate. Too intimate.
“Where did this come from?” I asked quietly.
“It’s all over the gossip sites this morning,” Mira replied. “They’re trending. People are saying they look good together. That they’re the industry’s new obsession.”
My grip around the phone tightened.
Mira’s eyes darted to my face. “Adrian… is that her?”
I froze.
Her voice trembled as she continued. “Is that Arielle?”
“No,” I said instantly. Too fast. Too defensive. “Of course not.”
“It looks exactly like her.”
“It’s not her.”
“Adrian—”
“It’s not her,” I repeated sharply, forcing the laptop open to hide my shaking hands. “She died. We saw the remains. We buried her. It’s impossible.”
Mira exhaled shakily and ran a hand through her hair. “You’re lying to yourself.”
I slammed the laptop shut, the sound echoing through the office. “What are you implying?”
“That the body we found may not have been hers.”
A cold shiver ran through me.
I shook my head firmly. “No. Don’t start imagining things. We can’t afford that. Not now. Not ever.”
“We would be finished,” she whispered, leaning closer. “If she’s Arielle, if she remembers anything or she finds out what we did…”
“Stop.” I warned, I didn't want to hear what else she had to say.
Mira’s voice wavered. “We set her house on fire. Adrian, we…”
“Don’t say it.” I stood abruptly, my pulse pounding in my ears. “Don’t ever say it out loud. Especially not here. The wall has ears.” She swallowed hard and lowered her gaze.
“No one must know,” I said. “If you value your life, you’ll never bring it up again.”
Silence spread thickly between us.
Mira’s voice dropped. “What will you do?”
I took a slow breath. “I will find out who she is.”
“How?”
I forced my shoulders to relax. “Professionally. If she’s a model, then she can be hired. Contracts, proposals, endorsements. I’ll use business channels to get close.”
“And if it really is Arielle?” she whispered.
I didn’t answer at first, after a few seconds I replied “I’ll handle it when I know for sure.” Mira studied me for a long moment, then nodded reluctantly. “Be careful.”
When she left the room, I sank back into my chair, the exhaustion of the sleepless night returning in waves.
My eyes drifted back to the photo on the phone. Zane’s gaze on Rielle made my chest tighten. That man looked at her like he owned the world and could buy anything, including her. And she sat there like she belonged at his side.
Why him?
Why choose him?
Why trust him?
I frowned and opened my laptop again, this time searching for Zane’s background. The results were overwhelming. Article after article described him as a ghost in the business world. Young, brilliant, ruthless, unbelievably wealthy.
The kind of man others feared. The kind of man no one crossed. He had one of the largest modeling industries. He was untouchable.
And if he was involved with Rielle or Arielle, then I had every reason to worry.
I rubbed my forehead. “What are you doing with him?”
The question echoed through my mind without an answer.
I read more. Investigated deeper. And the deeper I went, the more unsettled I became. No one accumulated that much influence without terrifying power behind them. Something about Zane didn’t feel like a chance. It felt like purpose.
Was he protecting her? Using her?
Or worse, had she chosen him willingly?
My chest tightened uncomfortably at the thought.
As the sun dipped lower and the office darkened, my decision became clear.
I needed to see her again. Alone. Without Zane’s sharp eyes or Lisa’s constant screaming. Just the two of us. If she truly wasn’t Arielle, I would know instantly. If she is then I needed to understand why she was pretending. Why did she hate me so much? Why did she refuse to look at me like she once did? Did she know the real truth behind the fire?
I picked up my laptop and drafted an email to her agency. A professional inquiry, formal and clean:
Proposal for a private campaign shoot.
High-end brand.
Exclusive contract.
Urgent interest in Miss Rielle.
A believable reason to get closer to her. When I hit send, a strange calm settled over me.
One thing was certain, I would get the truth from her. I can't let all my efforts go to waste. If I had to kill her a second time I would.
I forced myself to stand, dragging my thoughts away from the chaos that Rielle had left in my mind. My chest still felt tight, my palms clammy, but I couldn’t let it consume me. Not today. I needed to focus on work, to bury the swirling dread under numbers, contracts, and deadlines. Anything to stop the relentless replay of her face, the impossible realization that Arielle or someone who looked exactly like her was alive.
I left the office later than usual, the weight of the day heavy on my shoulders, and drove home in silence. The streets blurred past as I tried not to think about what awaited me at the apartment. I knew Lisa would be there, she always was but I wasn’t ready to confront anyone about what had happened yesterday or the gossip of today. I needed a moment to regain composure before dealing with Lisa.
When I stepped inside, the faint smell of vanilla and lavender greeted me, mingled with the lingering scent of her perfume from earlier. Lisa was stretched across the bed, propped on one elbow, her eyes lighting up as she spotted me. “How was your day?” she asked casually, her tone deceptively calm, almost teasing, as if she knew I had been wrestling with demons I refused to share.
“It was okay,” I replied, my voice clipped, controlled. “Busy and productive.” I dropped my bag by the door and ran a hand through my hair, trying to seem unbothered.
Lisa rolled her eyes softly, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Hmm. Really? Busy enough that you didn’t think about her?” She paused, letting the words hang in the air. My chest constricted, and I tensed.
“I didn’t… ” I stopped myself, shaking my head. I didn’t need her reminding me of what I was desperately trying to ignore.
“Adrian, relax.” Lisa swung her legs off the bed and crossed to stand near me. “I hired a private detective. He confirmed it. It’s not Arielle. You have no reason to be afraid.”
I blinked, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “You… confirmed it?” I asked cautiously, unsure if relief should wash over me or if the truth would just deepen the confusion.
She nodded, reaching for my hand and holding it gently. “Trust me, Adrian. She’s not coming for us. She’s not a threat. And neither is anyone else. You just need to trust me.”
I stared down at her, the warmth in her gaze cutting through the storm of doubt in my chest. My heart thudded unevenly. “I… I do trust you,” I admitted softly.
Her hand cupped my cheek, fingers brushing against my jaw in a gentle, reassuring caress. “Tell me something else,” she whispered, leaning in closer. “Are you still in love with me?”
My breath hitched, the honesty of the question knocking the air out of me. My thoughts scattered, every memory of her, the shared laughter, the nights we had stolen together, the way she had always known how to reach me flooded back. “Yes,” I confessed, my voice low but certain.
Lisa smiled, a slow, radiant curve that made my knees feel weak. Without a word, she leaned in, pressing her lips to mine. The kiss was gentle at first, a confirmation, a promise. Then it deepened, and I felt myself giving in completely, every restraint melting away. My arms went around her, pulling her close, feeling the warmth of her body.
When we finally pulled back, our foreheads resting together, I whispered, “I don’t know how I ever got so lucky.”
Lisa laughed softly, resting her head against mine. “You’ve always been lucky,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Now just let me handle the rest. You focus on staying calm and on me.”