Chapter 74 Secrets in the Back Seat
Leitana had found a way to slip away from Ethan and the others. When her phone buzzed, she’d excused herself in a rush, claiming she needed the restroom after confirming the caller was exactly who she’d hoped.
“Of course, dear. You’ll find us in the cafeteria,” Mikey had said with an easy smile.
Leitana nodded, clutching the phone tightly, a quiet reassurance settling over her.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ethan stepped closer, lifting his hand. His thumb brushed gently beneath her eye, catching her completely off guard. Her eyes widened; heat rushed to her cheeks. For a second he seemed to realize what he’d done—his hand dropped, fingers raking through his hair as faint color rose on his own face.
Theo’s lips curved into a knowing smirk. Mia cleared her throat and stepped forward.
“Of course she’s fine,” Mia said, her voice light but edged. “She’s Leitana Ashbourne, wife of Ravial Ashbourne.” She lingered on the word wife, letting it sink in like a warning. They’d all seen the way Ethan looked at her; it was far more than friendship, and Mia clearly wanted to remind him of the line he couldn’t cross.
“She’ll be fine. Let’s go.” Mia slipped her arm around Ethan’s torso, turning him gently but firmly. She flashed Leitana a quick smile as the group filed out of the studio.
Leitana remained still until the door closed behind them. Then, almost unconsciously, she lifted her hand and touched the spot beneath her eye where Ethan’s thumb had lingered.
In all her nineteen years, only one man had ever touched her—her husband. Ravial’s touches were different, possessive in their own way, but this… this brief, tender brush from another man felt foreign. Strange. It sent an odd flutter through her chest.
“Mi should tell Ravial, right?” she whispered to herself. But she shook her head. There was something more urgent waiting, the call.
She hurried back to her seat, grabbed her bag, and slipped out of the studio and the building.
Outside the Juilliard Extension, warm sunlight spilled across her face. A car horn cut through the city noise. She turned to see a black SUV parked at the curb. Her phone vibrated with a new message:
We’re in the car. Come in.
Leitana glanced around the driveway—no one seemed to be watching. Still, Ravial’s earlier words echoed in her mind: I’ll know if anyone touches you. If he could say that so confidently, maybe he really was watching.
“Silly,” she muttered under her breath. She walked toward the SUV at a measured pace, trying not to draw attention. As she reached the door, it slid open from inside. A familiar face greeted her with a small grin.
Leitana smiled back and climbed in. The door shut with a soft thud.
“Drive,” Lafu said quietly.
The driver nodded, and the car merged smoothly into traffic.
Now, in the present, Leitana sat in the back seat between Lafu and Stacy. Marco rode up front beside the driver.
“So the truth is, we have no solid leads,” Lafu continued, her voice low, gaze fixed on the city sliding past the window. “We don’t know exactly who was involved in her death, but it has to be someone close—someone who controlled her contracts, her schedule… her life.”
Stacy nodded, arms folded tight across her chest. “She changed these last few months. Withdrew. Canceled plans. Said she was just ‘tired.’ But it was more than exhaustion. She looked… scared.”
Marco twisted in his seat to face them. “We tried talking to her manager, Jim. He stonewalled us, claimed she was ‘unstable,’ that the pressure broke her. Same story the label fed the press.”
Leitana listened in silence, fingers twisting nervously in her lap.
The dream flashed again, Celeste’s pale face in the cold darkness, her desperate plea echoing: They hurt me.
She swallowed hard.
“Did… did she ever say who?” Leitana asked softly. “Who dey was?”
Lafu shook her head. “No names. Whenever we pushed, she’d shut down. Said it was safer if we didn’t know.”
Safer.
A chill traced its way up Leitana’s spine.
Stacy leaned forward. “We think she was being pressured. Controlled, financially, emotionally… maybe worse.”
Leitana’s heart pounded against her ribs.
Lafu glanced over. “You okay? You’ve gone pale.”
Leitana forced a small smile. “Mi fine. Jus’… mi think ‘bout Celeste plenty.”
Stacy studied her. “Did you ever meet her? Through Ravial, maybe?”
Leitana shook her head. “No. Never.”
Marco sighed. “That’s actually why we thought you might help. You’re inside the circle now—closer to the people who knew her, who ran things.”
Leitana’s stomach knotted. “Mi no know big people,” she said quietly. “Mi new. Mi jus’… mi jus’ wife.”
Lafu reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “That’s exactly why we trust you. You’re not part of their world yet. You’ll see things clearly—no corruption clouding your eyes.”
Silence settled for a moment, heavy with unspoken worry.
Then Lafu spoke again, softer. “We do have one thing. A voicemail Celeste left me the night she died. We’ve listened to it a hundred times. There’s… a man’s voice in the background. Muffled, angry. We can’t make out the words.”
Stacy pulled out her phone. “Want to hear it?”
Leitana nodded slowly.
Stacy turned the volume low and pressed play.
Celeste’s voice trembled through the speaker: “Lafu… please pick up. I’m scared. They’re saying I have to go tonight. I don’t want to. I can’t do this anymore. Please… call me back.”
A pause, then: “They keep saying if I don’t… no more bookings. No more anything. I tried to say no last time and they…”
A sharper edge crept in: “No, no, he’s coming. He’s…”
The message cut off.
Leitana’s face had gone ashen.
Lafu’s voice was gentle but firm. “And this next one came just minutes before she died.”
Stacy played the second clip.
Celeste again, breathless now: “Lafu… if something happens to me… look at my contracts. Look at who really controls…”
A muffled male voice snarled in the background—low, threatening.
Then static swallowed the rest.
Leitana’s skin prickled as though the air in the car had dropped ten degrees.
She stared out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks.
“Yu think… someone make her fall?” she asked, barely above a whisper.
“We know it,” Marco said grimly. “The only questions are who—and how high it goes.”
Lafu watched her carefully.
“Leitana… if you hear anything, see anything—even something small—will you tell us?”
Leitana’s fingers tightened around the fabric of her sundress, knuckles whitening.
She hesitated, then spoke again, her voice softer, almost a whisper. “Celeste… she scared.”
All eyes turned to her.
“Huh?” Marco asked, brow furrowing.
Leitana’s throat tightened. Doubt surged through her—would they believe her? Back home, her gift had been whispered about in church, treated with a mix of fear, awe, and quiet reverence. Here, in this glittering city of sharp suits and cold logic, it felt childish. Foolish.
But Celeste’s plea echoed once more in her mind.
Help me.
“I…” Leitana began, then faltered.
Her gaze drifted to the window, catching her faint reflection in the glass. She looked small there, soft, fragile, exactly how Ravial saw her.
But she wasn’t helpless.
“I dream,” she said at last. “Last night.”
Stacy tilted her head, gentle concern in her eyes. “A dream?”
Leitana nodded. “But not normal one. She came to me. Celeste.”
A heavy silence blanketed the car.
“She cry,” Leitana continued, her voice trembling yet resolute. “She say she need help. She say dey close to Ravial but she no remember well. She restless.”
Lafu stiffened. “Close to… Ravial Ashbourne?”
Leitana nodded slowly.
Marco cursed softly under his breath.
“This sounds crazy,” Stacy said quickly, “but it’s possible. Ravial funded her career. He was the boss. He…”
“Yes,” Leitana cut in quietly. “So dey powerful people. Power bring light… and darkness.”
Lafu exhaled slowly, the sound heavy in the confined space. “Did she say who they were?”
Leitana shook her head. “No names. She no remember clearly. Too restless.”
The car sank into thick silence.
Finally, Lafu spoke. “Whether it was a dream or intuition… you might be onto something.”
She turned fully toward Leitana.
“We didn’t bring you here to scare you,” she said gently. “But if there’s even a chance Celeste reached out…”
Leitana lifted her chin. “I help,” she said firmly. “I promise her.”
Stacy exchanged a quick glance with Marco.
Lafu nodded. “Alright. Then we start carefully. Quietly.” She paused, then added in a lower voice, “And you will not tell Ravial.”
Leitana’s eyes widened. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be here without Ravial’s permission—yet here she was. Hiding this from him felt impossible; lying to her husband went against everything she believed.
She shook her head. “No, Lafu. Mi can’t lie to mi husband.”
Lafu leaned closer, wrapping her hand gently around Leitana’s. “I know it goes against what you believe. And if Ravial finds out, we’re all in serious trouble. But we have to do this. He’s already running an internal company investigation—but these people will find ways to bury the truth. It’s not just corrupt powerful men; there are corrupt employees too. So please… don’t tell him. At least not yet.”
Leitana searched Lafu’s face, her spirit warring within her. Finally, she nodded, the motion small and reluctant.
Lafu’s shoulders relaxed; a relieved smile touched her lips.
“Yesss,” Stacy said, breaking into a full, hopeful grin. “Now, where do we start?”
“I say we start with Jim, her manager,” Marco replied. “That sleazy bastard controlled her finances, her schedule, everything. And now I hear he’s been reassigned to another model. Younger. Fresh face. Same leash.”
Stacy’s lips curled in disgust. “They didn’t fire him.”
“No,” Marco said grimly. “They protected him.”
Lafu’s jaw tightened. “That’s not damage control. That’s a pattern.”
Leitana’s stomach twisted painfully.
Another girl.
Another voice handed over to the same man.
“He no change,” Leitana murmured. “Dey jus’ give him someone new.”
No one contradicted her.
They all knew exactly what it meant.
Leitana’s chest tightened, a quiet ache spreading through her.
Jim. The name settled like a stone in her gut.
“He control her life,” she whispered. “Maybe even her death.”
Marco glanced back at her. “That’s what we suspect.”
The car slowed as traffic thickened, a sea of red brake lights glowing ahead. Leitana watched the city blur past, glass towers rising like cold sentinels, shadows folding into one another.
“You see,” Lafu said carefully, “people like Jim don’t act alone. They answer to someone higher.”
Leitana’s fingers curled tightly into her palms, nails pressing crescents into her skin.
Stacy cleared her throat. “We’ll need access. Contracts. Emails. Anything Celeste touched near the end.”
Lafu nodded. “Which is where you come in, Leitana.”
Leitana looked up, startled. “Mi?”
“You can move freely where we can’t,” Lafu explained softly. “You’re the boss’s wife. You can get close to confidential things—things no one would dare show us. We want to use that position. No one would risk harming Ravial Ashbourne’s beloved wife.”
Leitana swallowed hard.
Ravial’s warning echoed again, low and possessive: I will know if anyone touches you.
Her chest constricted.
“I no want trouble,” she said quietly. “But mi no want her spirit restless either.”
Lafu squeezed her hand once more. “Then we do this quietly. One careful step at a time.”
The car turned onto a quieter street, the city’s roar fading to a distant hum.
Leitana leaned back against the seat, letting her eyes drift shut for just a moment.
In the darkness behind her lids, Celeste’s voice whispered again, faint, urgent, laced with fear.
Leitana’s eyes snapped open.
Her heart thundered against her ribs.
What exactly was she walking into?