Chapter 134: Come with me

"Tristan?" My voice trembled as I gazed at him, my heart beating. Seeing him here, of all places, seemed unthinkable.

"Yes, it's me, Rose," Tristan answered without missing a beat, his gaze fixed on mine with disturbing ease.

“How—how did you find this place?” I stammered, still reeling from shock. “This is Mike’s house. And... Why were you in his bathroom? ”My mind was spiraling, unable to reconcile his presence with this private space.

Tristan’s lips curled into a thin, knowing smile. “Give me a moment to make myself decent, will you?” His voice was as casual as if nothing about this situation was unusual.

It was then that I noticed he wasn’t fully dressed his bare torso damp from the shower. Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Oh—sorry,” I muttered, turning away quickly, mortified by my own oversight.

“Wait for me upstairs, Rose,” he called after me, his tone calm but commanding.

I didn’t hesitate. My feet carried me up to the living room as my mind raced, a thousand questions burning inside me. Why was Tristan here, in Mike’s basement, of all places? It didn’t make sense. I tried to steady my breathing as I perched on the edge of the couch, anxiously waiting for him.

Minutes ticked by before Tristan appeared at the door, looking fresh and composed, his dark hair still slightly damp. He wore a fitted white tank top and casual Capri pants, exuding confidence that only unsettled me further.

“Sorry if I startled you.” He approached and sat across from me, his eyes never leaving mine. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not,” I admitted, my voice shaky. “I need answers, Tristan. How did you know about this house? As far as I know, it’s Mike’s—”

Tristan leaned back, his expression unreadable. “It was my house before Mike bought it.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in. "I know more about this place than you think, Rose."

Tristan had been hiding something since the beginning. "So it's true," I murmured slowly, pulling things together. “You weren’t just a casual friend of Mike’s. That’s why you let him borrow your yacht—Catherine.”

“In some sense, yes,” Tristan replied, but his voice had shifted, quieter now. His gaze drifted away, and for the first time, I saw sadness in his eyes. “Mike and I worked together once in the same company. That’s how we knew each other.”

“And he lets you stay here, even after buying the place?” I pressed. Something about this arrangement didn’t add up.

“Yes, we had an agreement. The basement would always be mine whenever I needed a quiet place to escape.” Tristan turned back toward me, his expression softening just a fraction. “You’re lucky to have a friend like William.”

Tristan speaking the name—William—was like thunder. Tristan had kept that secret from me; they had let me believe Mike and William were just casual acquaintances. But now... There was something much deeper between them, something they had never shared with me.

“So, all along, you knew Mike was really William?” I stared at him, my voice filled with disbelief. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Tristan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I swore to keep that part of William’s life buried and to forget about him and just be friends with Mike.”

“There’s got to be more to it than that,” I shot back, frustration building inside me. “You don’t just erase someone’s identity unless there’s a reason. Why did William—why did Mike—want to disappear? ”

Tristan’s face hardened. “William wanted peace. He needed to escape from the enemies he made and from the life he left behind. And I helped him by keeping his secret. I owed him that much.”

“And his face...” I leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “How did he end up erasing his original face? You had to know something about that.”

Tristan hesitated, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. “William didn’t just disappear. He made himself someone else—literally. He had to change everything about who he was to survive.”

I could feel the weight of his words pressing down on me. “You helped him with that, didn’t you? ”

Tristan didn’t answer right away, but the silence told me enough.

"It was a necessary decision," Tristan sighed, the weight of his words heavy between us. "Armand... he destroyed William's face before Lily Brinson's gang arrived to rescue him. William was unrecognizable, barely alive. Even in that state, though, he managed to contact me. He asked me to help him escape—sneaks him away from Lily Brinson's gang. That's when the decision was made to change his face. By the time he came back into Lily's life, he was already someone else. He was Mike."

My mind reeled. "Did Lily know about William's face being changed?"

Tristan shook his head. "I don’t know. After William became Mike, I lost contact with him. The only time we reconnected was when he reached out to borrow my yacht, Catherine, to help you get to Vanishing Island."

It was overwhelming. William had been hiding this secret for years. His connection to Tristan—it wasn’t just business, it was personal. And yet, I still didn’t know if this was all some twisted coincidence or if it had been part of a bigger plan all along.

And then I remembered the crashing sound I had heard earlier. It had drawn me into the house and made me search through every corner until I ended up in the basement. I looked at Tristan, still suspicious. “I heard a crash. Was that you? ”

Tristan’s expression softened with regret. "I’m sorry about that. I had to break the glass window in the garage to get in. I lost my key to the house."

His explanation made me step back, my mind racing again. Losing the key to a house that held so many secrets seemed impossible. It didn’t feel right.

“Are you afraid of me, Rose?” Tristan stepped forward, his eyes searching mine.

“No, but...” I couldn’t shake the unease growing inside me. Too many things weren’t adding up. I felt like I was on the edge of something dangerous—something I didn’t fully understand. “I think you should go.”

Tristan studied me for a moment longer, his face unreadable.

Tristan’s face twisted into a frown, clearly shaken by what I had said. “You are afraid of me, aren’t you?”

“I just don’t want...” I hesitated, knowing I needed to stay vigilant. Everything Tristan had revealed about his connection to Mike could be a lie, a cover for something darker. “My husband... Jacob will be here any minute to pick me up. I have to go to William’s funeral.”

His eyes darkened. “That’s already been taken care of, just like your Aunt Lucia.” Tristan’s voice was cold, unyielding. “Can’t you just stay here with me, Rose? Without fear? You know how much I care for you.”

Something shifted inside me—a cold unease. “Who are you, Tristan?” I asked, my voice trembling. There was something I hadn’t seen before—something dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

“I’m Tristan Gale,” he said, his voice filled with bitterness, adding, "the lost brother of Laura Gale, who died because of Jacob Alvarez.”

Shock rippled through me. “You can’t blame Jacob for your sister’s death, Tristan,” I replied, trying to steady my voice, but his anger was palpable, almost suffocating.

“He promised her everything—an incredible wedding, a life together—and then he abandoned her!” Tristan’s voice rose to a shout, raw with pain.

“No! It wasn’t Jacob! ”I shouted back, desperate to let him see the truth. “Lily Brinson was responsible for your sister’s misfortune and for all the chaos—it was Lily’s doing. Please, Tristan, listen to Jacob’s side. Don’t let your anger blind you.”

His eyes gleamed with an unsettling intensity. “Come with me, and I’ll forgive your husband,” he demanded, his voice soft but menacing. “We can leave here, far away. Jacob has everything, Rose. He’ll settle with Lily Brinson.”

My heart raced as I backed away, my voice shaking with conviction. “I love my husband, Tristan. That’s why I can’t go with you. I care for you, but only as a friend. That’s all I can give you—friendship.”

Tristan’s gaze hardened. “I can make you happy, Rose,” he said, stepping closer, his voice low and insistent. “Just let Lily Brinson take care of Jacob. You’ll be free.”

I froze as he advanced the air between us thick with tension. His eyes—once familiar and kind—now held something darker, something that made my skin crawl. It was as if he couldn’t hear me anymore, as if my words were drowned out by the rage festering inside him.

For the first time, I truly felt afraid of him.