The living room seemed smaller, the distance separating Noah and me packed with unsaid facts. His acknowledgement of what I "needed to know" sat thick in the air.
I slanted back into the couch and folded my arms. "I'm listening," says.
As Noah gazed out the window, the city lights reflected in his stormy grey eyes and his jaw clenched. This moment appeared to strip a guy who lived on control naked, and the sight disturbed me more than I anticipated.
"You asked about Emily," he said softly. "You wanted to know why the past keeps resuracing."
I nodded and took a breath.
"My sister's death wasn't just a tragedy," he said, his voice taut. "It served as a trigger." After that, everything in my family came apart.
He turned to face me, his look combining shame with determination. And Victor was involved in it.
Noah walked the room as he talked, his recollections tugging the calm veneer off his face.
"Although Victor worked for my father, he was more than a staff member. He was the fixer for my father—the type of guy who handled issues nobody else wanted to get involved with.
I wrinkled, the bits starting to line up. "What kind of difficulties?"
"Scandals involving money. Legal claims. And ultimately Emily's accident.
The air appeared to stop still.
"What has he got to do with Emily?" I asked warily.
Noah stopped counting, his fists closed at his sides. Victor covered it. Her dying circumstances were somewhat complex. My father made the truth vanish as he wanted it gone away. He created tales, paid people off, erased proof. And Victor brought all of this about.
As I went over his comments, my heart hammered. But why? He was attempting to conceal what?
Noah stopped, his eyes darkening. "Because Emily was not the one driving that evening. I was."
His revelation hit like a thunderclap, astonished me.
"You were driving?," said I said again, trying to understand it.
He nodded, the weight of the admission pulling down his shoulders. "Late was it. I should not have been driving, but Emily insisted we go out. She said she had to leave the home. Though I believed I could manage it,... I started to lose control.
Running a hand over his hair, he spoke with great emotional weight. The vehicle slid off the road. I hardly recall what followed, but Emily... she missed it.
The room fell into a deep quiet broken only by the far-off buzz of traffic outside.
And your father covered it up, I replied gently.
"Yes," Noah answered with a sour tone. "He didn't give the truth or what I felt any thought. Saving the family's reputation was all that counted.
And Victor,? I asked, now my voice more steady.
Noah's eyes became fixed. "He was the one who vanished all of it. He bought off witnesses, kept the media quiet, and ensured the police recorded the narrative my father intended. Still, he did it not out of loyalty. He accomplished this knowing he may use it against us someday.
My stomach shook. He is here today because of this.
Noah gestured. "Victor is aware of my vulnerability. He has been waiting for the proper opportunity to come back, and this marriage gives him power.
The pieces fit together, each one refining the image of the guy I had married.
The reference to leverage made me consider yet another issue.
"Do you suppose Markus is related to Victor?" I asked carefully.
Noah's jaw clenched. "It's feasible. Victor seems to be able to locate folks an axe to grind. And Markus matches the description.
The concept chilled me to no end. Markus's unexpected return and his assertion that I didn't belong with Noah all seemed too handy.
"What should we do right now? My voice just above a whisper, I asked.
Noah answered confidently, "We stay one step ahead." Victor finds great satisfaction in secrecy and anxiety. We diminish his power if we face him squarely.
Noah and I discovered we were on the same side for the first time since we started our marriage. Over the following few hours, we strategized and went over what we knew about Victor and his contacts.
Though there was conflict, Noah's exacting intellect was on full show and I couldn't help but respect his clarity. He was a guy who refused to let the past define his future—determined, analytical, and absolutely unrelenting.
Under his will, however, I sensed fragility as well. The weight of sorrow and shame he carried around every day.
It was late when we were done, and weariness had started to set in. But Noah's phone buzzed on the table as I was about to withdraw to my room.
Glancing at the television, his face darkened. Victor said.
I stopped. "What is his want?"
Noah read the message and his lips formed a thin line. "He is eager to meet. Right tomorrow evening.
"Are you headed?" With a faltering voice, I asked.
Grimly, he answered, "I have no choice."
My mind racing as Noah vanished into his office, I sat by myself in the dimly lighted living room.
The past was a hurricane, poised to sweep everything in its path, not only a shadow. And for the first time I understood Noah was not only looking out for himself.
He was attempting to protect me.
But would that be sufficient?