Chapter 135: To trust or not to trust

I bolted before Tristan’s fingers could brush mine, my heart pounding as I raced up the stairs. Each step felt heavier than the last as fear surged through me. I threw myself into the room and slammed the door shut, twisting the lock with trembling hands. Leaning back against the wall, I gasped for breath, my chest heaving.

There it was—my portrait, staring back at me from the wall. My own eyes, captured in paint, seemed foreign now, haunting even. The person in that painting wasn’t the same woman standing here, trapped and terrified.

I pressed my palms against the cold surface behind me, desperate for a moment of clarity, but Tristan’s presence lingered in the air like a shadow. His once familiar face had twisted into something unrecognizable, consumed by a vengeance I had never seen in him before. The man I had trusted, the one who had stood by my side, had been devoured by greed, his intentions corrupted.

Whatever bond we’d shared was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. I wasn’t sure if he was still outside the door or waiting for me to make a mistake, but one thing was certain: Tristan had changed, and I was now his target.

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus, trying to imagine the scene beyond the door. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I strained to hear any faint sound—footsteps, breathing, anything that might tell me Tristan’s next move. The silence felt like a heavy weight pressing in on me, but it didn’t last long.

The sharp click of the doorknob rattled through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of it being forced, as if Tristan was trying to break his way in.

"Please, Rose," his voice came muffled through the door, but still full of urgency. "Open this door. I just want to talk to you. We need to discuss your mother."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

"I know where Lily put your mother," he continued, his words slow and deliberate. There was a temptation in them, a hook buried in the promise of answers I desperately wanted—needed.

For a second, I almost believed him. My fingers twitched toward the lock, but I stopped. Tristan’s voice had changed, and with it, the man I once trusted had disappeared. His words now held a dangerous allure, wrapped in the same deception I’d seen growing in his eyes.

I couldn’t let myself fall into his trap, not again.

I pressed my forehead against the cold wood of the door, forcing myself to breathe. Trust had already cost me too much. Whatever he knew about my mother, I would have to find out another way.

"Get out of this house, Tristan!" I shouted, my voice shaking with fury. "This isn’t your house anymore. William is dead, and whatever agreement you had about using the basement room died with him."

I stood in the room William had designed for me—the one place where I felt safe, where I had control. Here, I could make my own decisions, free from the chaos outside. But Tristan was breaking through that, unraveling the thin threads of security I had left.

"Please, Tristan, you're scaring me!" My voice wavered despite my efforts to stay strong.

"Don’t be afraid of me," he pleaded from the other side, his voice softer now, almost desperate. "I love you, Rose. That’s all that matters to me."

I closed my eyes as his words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.

"I want to save you from your wicked twin, which Jacob can’t do. I know everything now—everything about Lily. Her hiding places, her schemes... and most importantly, I know where she is right now."

My pulse quickened. Could he really know all of this?

"I can help you," Tristan continued, his voice coaxing, urging me to trust him. "We’ll find your mother and disappear, far away from Lily."

His words stirred something inside me—a flicker of hope, a dangerous temptation. But doubt lingered. I had to be cautious, especially with Tristan, who was no longer the man I once knew.

I listened to his plans, torn between believing him and protecting myself from whatever game he might be playing. The truth was buried somewhere in his promises, but I couldn’t tell if it was a lifeline—or another trap.

Tristan’s voice slipped through the door again, softer this time, coaxing like a ghost from the past. “Do you remember how I found you in your darkest moments? When you were lost, in danger—I used everything I had to rescue you, Rose.”

His tone was almost tender now, filled with the weight of memories. “Do you remember how I got you off that island? How I brought you back to your mother, safe? I risked everything—my life, my connections, my resources—all for you, Rose. And it was because I love you.”

I pressed my back against the door, staring blankly ahead as his words wound their way into my mind. Each memory he mentioned echoed inside me, pulling at the cracks of my resolve. I couldn’t deny that he had been there for me—more times than I cared to admit.

“How many times have I saved you? ”Tristan’s voice was now barely a whisper, laced with a deep, aching need. “Can’t you see that? I’ve always been there, Rose. I love you.”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at something deep within me, but the fear and doubt still loomed. Yes, he had saved me before, but the man behind that door wasn’t the same person. He had changed, and so had I.

My heart pounded as I weighed his words, struggling to separate truth from manipulation. Could his love still be trusted, or was it just another trap—one I'd fallen into far too often before?

"I would rather be hurt than to hurt you, Rose," Tristan said, his voice tight with sorrow. "My life means nothing if you don't trust me again, Rose."

Then, silence.

His last words hit me like a slow, creeping wave. There was something in the way he said it—hopelessness, sadness. It unsettled me, digging into my resolve. The dangerous part was how close he’d come to convincing me. Tristan was right in one regard: I owed him my life, more than once. Trusting him was all he asked for, and that thought gnawed at me.

I inched closer to the door, the quiet outside amplifying my racing thoughts. Could I trust him again? The man I had once believed in had changed, but the memories, the moments when he had been my savior, lingered like shadows, blurring the line between doubt and loyalty.

I stood there, my hand hovering over the cold doorknob. I knew I had to decide—whether to face Tristan, to confront him with the bravery I wasn’t sure I had, or to open the door and dismiss him, cutting off whatever was left between us.

The knob felt icy under my grasp, my fingers curling around it. My heart pounded louder, drowning out the silence from the other side.

What would I find if I opened it?

I clicked it open and was surprised by what I saw.