Chapter 5: Shadows of the Past
The steady hum of a coffee machine filled the quiet corners of the Blackwell Enterprises art studio the following morning. Aria stood by the window, staring out at the city skyline, the sunlight filtering through her loose curls. Despite her growing confidence in the restoration process, a nagging unease lingered in the back of her mind.
She hadn't expected Lucas to show up so early. But then again, he was Lucas Blackwell—a man who seemed to thrive on control and precision.
"Punctual," Lucas said, his voice slicing through the air.
Aria turned, startled, to see him standing in the doorway. He wore a dark suit as always, the tailored cut emphasizing his broad shoulders. He held a cup of coffee in one hand, his other hand tucked casually in his pocket.
"I didn't know you'd be here this morning," Aria said, her tone cautious but not timid.
"I like to check on my investments," he replied smoothly, stepping into the room.
Her jaw clenched at his choice of words, but she said nothing.
Lucas's gaze shifted to the painting she'd been working on. He approached it with measured steps, his fingers brushing the edge of the canvas.
"You've made progress," he said after a moment, his tone lacking the usual sharpness. "Ingrid seems impressed."
"Thanks," Aria said. She hesitated, then added, "It's...satisfying, in a way. Like uncovering a hidden story."
Lucas's lips quirked upward, though it wasn't quite a smile. "Stories can be dangerous," he said, his voice quieter now.
Before she could ask what he meant, Ingrid entered, her clipboard in hand. "Good morning, Aria. Mr. Blackwell."
Lucas nodded at her, his usual cold mask firmly back in place. "Carry on. I won't distract you further."
As he turned to leave, Aria felt an inexplicable pull to say something—anything—to bridge the gap between his aloof demeanor and the vulnerability she thought she'd glimpsed.
"Lucas," she called, surprising herself.
He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder.
"Why do you care so much about this painting?" she asked, her voice steady.
The room fell silent. Even Ingrid seemed to pause, her pen hovering above the clipboard.
Lucas's gray eyes darkened, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. "Some things are worth preserving," he said simply, then walked out, leaving her with more questions than answers.
Later That Night
Aria returned to her apartment, exhaustion tugging at her every step. But as she opened the door, she froze.
The room wasn't as she'd left it. The stack of art supplies on her desk was slightly off-center, her sketchbook had been moved, and her laptop was ajar.
Her heart raced as she stepped inside, scanning the room for any sign of an intruder. A faint chill ran down her spine, and she quickly checked the locks on her windows and door.
Nothing seemed missing, but the feeling of being watched refused to fade.
She sat on her bed, gripping her phone. Should she call someone? Lucas's face flashed in her mind. Would he even care?
A soft knock at the door made her jump. She approached cautiously, peering through the peephole.
It was her landlord, Mr. Patel.
"Sorry to bother you, Miss Sinclair," he said when she opened the door. "I noticed someone lurking around earlier. Just wanted to make sure everything's all right."
"Someone?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Probably nothing," he said with a shrug. "Just thought you should know. Stay safe."
Aria nodded, her unease growing as she locked the door behind him.
Her fingers hovered over Lucas's number, which she'd reluctantly saved after their agreement. After a moment's hesitation, she dialed.
He answered on the first ring. "Aria?"
"There's something...off," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "I think someone's been in my apartment."
There was a pause on the other end, followed by the sound of rustling papers. "Stay there. I'm sending someone."
"Wait," she said quickly. "What do you me.."
The line went dead.