Chapter 19 Built on Secrets
Cade
After the hours in the dark watching Sloane sleep, I’d eventually retreated to my room for a few hours of restless shut-eye.
I woke up at 6AM, but I didn't get out of bed right away. I lay there for a long time, staring at the shadows of the tree branches on my ceiling. My sleep had been thin and full of strange dreams about old paper, red ink, and the sound of my sister’s voice. But mostly, I kept thinking about the middle of the night.
I kept thinking about the way Sloane had looked when she was asleep at the kitchen table. She had looked so small, so tired, and completely different from the woman who stood tall in boardrooms and stared down CEOs.
Eventually, the weight of the day pushed me out of bed. I freshened up, threw on a clean shirt and headed downstairs, my boots sounding loud on the wooden stairs. I expected the kitchen to be empty. I expected to be the first one up, like always.
The morning light was thin and grey when I finally came back downstairs. I expected the kitchen to be empty, but Sloane was already there.
The woman in the soft robe with the messy hair who had fallen asleep on her arms at the table was gone. In her place was the version of Sloane the world knew. She was already dressed for the office in a sharp, dark blazer, her hair pulled back into a perfect, low knot. She was standing by the counter, reading something on her tablet while she waited for the coffee to finish dripping.
The warmth from the middle of the night seemed to still be there, hanging in the air like a ghost, but neither of us talked about it. We didn't mention the thermostat or the way she’d fallen asleep while I watched.
"Morning," I said, my voice still a little rough from the few hours of sleep I got.
"Good morning," she replied, not looking up from her screen, but she didn't look cold either.
She reached out and grabbed a heavy blue ceramic mug from the cabinet and set it on the counter next to the machine. Same one I often use for my coffee. Without asking, she poured the coffee exactly how I liked it and pushed it toward me. I hadn't told her how I took it, but she’d obviously been paying attention over the last few days.
"Thanks," I said, taking the mug.
She just nodded, finally looking at me. There was a subtle shift in how we moved around each other today. The tension of being strangers in a house was fading, replaced by a quiet, domestic routine. We moved between the island and the sink like we’d done this a hundred times. I didn't have to tell her where things were, and she didn't have to ask. It was easy. It was domestic.
And it was dangerous.
A sudden, loud buzzing sound broke the quiet. Sloane frowned, looking over at the heavy gate-control panel on the wall
"The car gate isn't responding to my remote," she said, pressing a button on her key fob again. The panel gave a flat, angry beep. "It was fine yesterday."
I took a quick sip of coffee before I put down my mug. "It’s the sensors," I explained, my voice low. "See that red light flashing? If the leaves from that big oak tree near the driveway get too thick near the base, the lasers think there’s a physical obstruction. It locks the motor so the gate doesn't crush whatever it thinks is there."
"So I'm trapped?" she asked, half-joking.
"Not quite."
I tapped a quick override code into the keypad and hit the manual cycle. Outside, we heard the distant, heavy groan of the iron gates sliding open.
"There," I said. "Fixed."
"Thank you," she said, and for a second, the professional mask slipped. Her smile was genuine, not the practiced one she would use for board meetings. "I really need to get better at handling this house. It feels like it’s fighting me."
"You're doing fine," I said. I meant it."You're doing fine," I said. "It took me a year to figure out the lighting system in the theater room. Don't let it beat you."
She laughed, a small, quiet sound that filled the kitchen.
I watched her as she gathered her leather bag and checked her reflection in the darkened window. I could see the change happening instantly. The Night-Sloane, the one who was vulnerable and hated the silence, was being tucked away. Day-Sloane was putting on her armor. She was becoming precise, controlled, and untouchable again.
It unsettled me more than if she had been cold to me. Knowing that the person I saw at 1AM was hidden under all that corporate polish made the doubt in the back of my mind feel uglier. I thought about the call I’d made to Sarah, the investigation I’d set in motion. Looking at the way she smoothed her lapels, I told myself I was being careful, not cruel. But the line between the two was getting blurry.
Her phone chimed on the counter.
Sloane’s face tightened the moment she saw the screen. "It’s Claire. She’s already booked a hall for the engagement dinner."
"She doesn't waste time," I muttered.
"No," Sloane said, her voice turning brisk again. "She doesn't."
She took a breath, her chest rising and falling slowly as she regained her composure. She looked like she wanted to say something, maybe something about how fast this all seemed to be moving, or how much she hated the idea of an engagement dinner right now. But she didn't. She stopped herself. The restraint was back. The wall was up.
I almost asked her if she was okay. I almost told her that we could tell Claire to back off. But I didn't say it. I didn't want to break the rules of whatever game we were playing.
We stood there for a beat too long, the space between us filled with all the things we weren't saying. I wanted to reach out and touch her shoulder, just to see if the warmth from last night was still there. But I kept my hands on my mug.
"I should go," I said, grabbing my keys. "I have the board meeting at nine."
"Right. Good luck with that," she said.
I headed out to the garage, the engine of my car echoing in the quiet space. As I pulled down the driveway, I saw her through the kitchen window. She was still standing in the same spot, looking out at the empty kitchen, her silhouette framed by the morning light.
Both of us were thinking the same thing, even if we were miles apart.
This was working. We were playing the roles perfectly. We were sharing a life, sharing a house, and convincing everyone around us that this was real.
But as the iron gates clicked shut behind me, I knew the truth. This couldn’t last. A house built on a foundation of secrets and private investigations couldn't stand forever. Eventually, the floor was going to give way, and I just didn't know which one of us was going to fall first.