Chapter 66: Cracks in the Dark
Chapter 66: Cracks in the Dark
Sophie woke to the sound of Alex choking on his own breath.
It wasn’t loud. That was what terrified her most. It was a broken, strangled sound—like someone drowning quietly, afraid to wake the house. His body jerked beside her, muscles locked, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles shone white in the dim light filtering through the curtains.
“Alex,” she whispered, instantly alert. “Alex, hey—wake up.”
He didn’t respond.
His chest rose too fast, too shallow. Sweat soaked through the collar of his sleep shirt, his hair plastered to his forehead. His lips moved, soundless at first, then—
“No. Don’t—don’t let her—”
Sophie’s heart slammed against her ribs.
She sat up, gripping his shoulders. “Alex. You’re safe. It’s just a dream.”
The word dream seemed to snap something inside him.
His eyes flew open.
For a split second, he didn’t see her.
He looked past her—through her—with raw, naked terror etched across his face. His gaze darted to the shadows of the room, the corners, the door, as though expecting someone to step out of the darkness.
Then he inhaled sharply and froze.
Sophie was staring at him.
Reality crashed back in.
He pulled away so fast it was like he’d been burned.
“I’m fine,” he said immediately, voice clipped, controlled. Too controlled. “Go back to sleep.”
“Alex,” she said softly, reaching for him again.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I said I’m fine.”
The words were sharp enough to cut.
Sophie let her hand fall. She watched his back as he stood, tall and rigid, shoulders squared like armor snapping into place. He didn’t look at her as he crossed the room, didn’t acknowledge the tremor still running through his hands as he poured himself a glass of water.
She had seen fear before. Real fear. In hospitals. In courtrooms. In her own father’s eyes when doctors spoke too carefully.
But this—
This was something else.
“Was it about the accident?” she asked quietly.
The glass shattered against the sink.
Alex went still.
Slowly, deliberately, he set the broken remains aside, as if his hands weren’t bleeding, as if the question hadn’t just punched straight through him.
“I don’t talk about that,” he said.
Sophie swallowed. “You were calling someone’s name.”
Silence.
He turned then, finally meeting her eyes—and whatever she’d hoped to find there vanished.
Cold. Distant. Closed.
“You should get some rest,” he said. “Big day tomorrow.”
And just like that, the wall was back.
Sophie lay awake long after he left the room.
Her body was still warm from where he’d been beside her. The echo of his fear clung to the sheets, to the air, to her chest. She replayed his words again and again.
Don’t let her.
Her mind latched onto one name.
Victoria Sterling.
\---
The boardroom the next morning was packed.
Too packed.
Sophie took her seat beside Alex, her posture composed, her expression calm. If anyone noticed the tension humming between them, they were polite enough not to comment. The Blackstone board was a battlefield disguised as polished wood and tailored suits.
And sitting at the far end of the table, legs crossed elegantly, lips curved in a knowing smile—
Victoria.
She wore cream today. Soft. Innocent. A calculated contrast to her sharp eyes and predator’s grace. Her gaze slid to Alex with deliberate intimacy, lingering just long enough to mean something.
Sophie felt it like a spark under her skin.
“Alexander,” Victoria said smoothly, “it’s been far too long.”
Alex didn’t flinch. “You weren’t invited.”
Victoria smiled wider. “I was requested. By three shareholders, actually.”
Murmurs rippled through the room.
Sophie’s fingers tightened around her pen.
“Given recent instability,” Victoria continued, “the board felt it necessary to hear alternative perspectives.”
“Alternative?” Alex’s voice was cool, lethal. “Or opportunistic?”
Victoria laughed softly. “You always were dramatic.”
She turned her gaze to Sophie then, openly appraising. Measuring.
“And this must be Sophie.”
Sophie met her stare without blinking. “Mrs. Blackstone.”
Something sharp flashed in Victoria’s eyes—gone as quickly as it appeared.
“How quaint,” she said. “You make it sound permanent.”
The meeting dissolved into tension from there.
Every proposal Alex made, Victoria questioned. Every strategic move, she countered. It wasn’t about business. Sophie saw that clearly now.
This was personal.
And it was working.
When the meeting adjourned, Alex left without a word, fury radiating off him in waves. Sophie gathered her things slowly, aware of Victoria approaching before she even spoke.
“Be careful,” Victoria said lightly.
Sophie turned. “Of what?”
“Of digging where you don’t belong.”
A pause.
“I beg your pardon?”
Victoria leaned closer, her voice dropping. “Alex has ghosts. And some of them don’t like being disturbed.”
Sophie’s heart skipped. “You seem very invested in his past.”
Victoria smiled, sharp as glass. “I survived it.”
She walked away, heels clicking like a countdown.
Sophie stood frozen long after she left.
\---
That night, Sophie didn’t go to bed.
She waited until the house was quiet, until Alex’s study light went dark. Then she slipped into the library, heart pounding, and opened the laptop she’d hidden days ago.
She typed in a name she hadn’t spoken aloud in years.
The accident report surfaced quickly.
Too quickly.
Her breath caught as dates, locations, photographs filled the screen.
The twisted metal. The rain-slicked road.
The car.
Her car.
Sophie’s vision blurred.
She hadn’t known. She’d never known.
But the name on the report—listed as a secondary victim—made her hands shake so badly she had to close the laptop.
Alexander Blackstone.
Footsteps sounded in the doorway.
Sophie looked up.
Alex stood there, eyes dark, unreadable.
“What are you doing?” he asked quietly.
The question wasn’t about the laptop.
It was about everything.
Sophie swallowed hard.
And for the first time since she’d met him, she didn’t know which truth would destroy them faster—the one she’d just uncovered…
…or the one she was already keeping.