Chapter 48 Ashes Don’t Stay Buried (Demilia’s POV)
I knew something was wrong the moment the house stopped pretending to be calm.
The silence wasn’t the usual heavy stillness I had grown accustomed to the one that followed Ethan wherever he went, shaped by money and power and fear. This silence was fractured, restless, like something had cracked beneath the surface and was now leaking through the walls.
I stood by the window, fingers gripping the curtain tightly as flashing lights bled into the estate grounds. Red. Blue. White. Repeating endlessly, slicing through the darkness like accusations.
“What happened?” I asked, though my voice barely made it past my throat.
Ethan didn’t look at me. He was already pulling on his jacket, his movements sharp, efficient, the way they always became when he slipped fully into the version of himself the world feared.
“The old Blackwell warehouse is on fire,” he said.
My heart lurched violently.
“That place doesn’t exist anymore,” I whispered.
“That’s what it was supposed to do,” he replied coldly.
I turned to him slowly. “You said it was sealed.”
“It was.” He finally looked at me then, and something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. “Which means someone wanted it opened.”
The words settled heavily in my chest.
Someone.
Not an accident.
Not negligence.
Intention.
Before I could say anything else, the door burst open and security flooded in, voices overlapping, tension thick in the air.
“Sir, the media is already picking it up.”
“The fire department confirms arson.”
“There are files missing physical records.”
My blood ran cold.
Files.
Ethan raised a hand, silencing them instantly. “Clear the house. I want no one unaccounted for.”
His gaze slid to me again, slower this time. Measuring.
“And Demilia stays here.”
“No,” I said immediately.
His jaw clenched. “This isn’t a debate.”
“I’m not staying behind like a child,” I snapped. “Whatever is happening out there is connected to me. You know that.”
He stared at me for a long moment, something dark and conflicted tightening his expression.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said quietly.
“Then tell me,” I demanded. “For once, stop deciding what I can and can’t survive.”
For a split second, I thought he would refuse.
Then he exhaled sharply. “Get your coat.”
The drive was tense, suffocating.
Ethan said nothing as the city blurred past us, lights streaking across the windshield like fractured memories. His phone buzzed constantly, but he ignored most of the calls, his grip on the steering wheel rigid.
I pressed my palm to my stomach unconsciously.
The baby stirred faintly, a soft reminder that I wasn’t alone in this storm.
When we arrived, the smell hit the first burnt metal, smoke, something acrid and old. Fire trucks crowded the perimeter, their lights painting everything in violent colors.
The warehouse stood half-charred, its structure wounded but not destroyed. Smoke curled lazily into the night sky, as if the fire had already said what it came to say.
I stepped out of the car, my legs trembling.
“This place…” My voice cracked. “I’ve never been here before. But it feels… familiar.”
Ethan stiffened beside me.
“That’s impossible.”
I shook my head. “I don’t remember it. But my body does.”
He didn’t respond.
We were stopped almost immediately by an officer, but Ethan’s name cleared every barrier with frightening ease. Inside, the damage was worse. Blackened walls. Collapsed shelves. Scorched floors.
And emptiness.
“They targeted one section,” a fire marshal explained. “The blaze started here.”
I followed his gesture and froze.
The room was gutted completely. Filing cabinets reduced to twisted metal. Ash everywhere.
“What was stored here?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
Ethan didn’t answer.
Instead, he crouched and picked something up from the floor.
A fragment of paper.
Burned, but not completely destroyed.
I stepped closer, my breath hitching.
I could still read it.
Lot #6.
Female. Masked. Age undisclosed.
My knees buckled.
Ethan caught me just in time, his grip iron-strong as he pulled me against him.
“No,” I whispered. “No, no, no…”
My vision blurred as memories slammed into me, hands restraining me, silk against my mouth, the smell of whiskey and cologne, a voice murmuring that it was “only business.”
“I was here,” I said, shaking violently. “This is where it happened.”
Ethan’s arms tightened around me, but his body felt rigid, conflicted.
“Yes,” he admitted quietly. “This was one of my father’s properties.”
I pulled back, staring at him in horror. “You knew.”
“I knew fragments,” he said. “Not everything.”
“You let me live in your house,” I whispered, tears spilling freely now. “You touched me. Married me. While knowing I was sold like an object by your family.”
His expression cracked.
“I didn’t know it was you,” he said hoarsely. “Not until much later.”
The world tilted.
“And when you found out?” I asked.
He swallowed hard. “By then, it was already too late.”
Before I could respond, hurried footsteps echoed behind us.
Adrian.
He froze when he saw me, shock flashing across his face.
“You brought her here?” he demanded, turning to Ethan. “Are you insane?”
“You set the fire,” Ethan accused coldly.
Adrian laughed bitterly. “If I had, there wouldn’t be anything left standing.”
My head snapped between them. “You both knew.”
“Yes,” Adrian admitted, his voice softer now as he looked at me. “But unlike him, I was trying to destroy the evidence—not hide it.”
“That fire was a warning,” Ethan said. “Someone else wants those records gone.”
“And they’re closer than you think,” Adrian shot back. “Your mother left the country an hour ago.”
The words landed like a bomb.
“What?” I breathed.
Ethan’s phone buzzed then. He answered, his face darkening with every second.
When he hung up, he looked at me with something dangerously close to fear.
“She didn’t leave alone,” he said.
My chest tightened painfully.
“She took something,” he continued. “From the vault.”
“What?” I asked, already knowing the answer would destroy me.
He met my eyes.
“The original buyer’s list.”
My stomach dropped.
Which meant the truth; the full truth was no longer buried.
And whoever held it now controlled everything.
Including my past.
Including my child’s future.
I pressed my hand to my stomach again, breath shaking.
Because the fire hadn’t erased my story.
It had only lit the path to the rest of it.