Page 110 of Ugly Truths
Elena
Istand in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection. My fingers brush over the fabric of my dress again, smoothing invisible creases.
It’s flawless. The high neckline grazes my throat, and the short sleeves balance the form-fitting bodice, before the skirt flares out into graceful folds that skim the mid-calf. My hair is swept into a low bun with a few soft pieces framing my face. It’s classic, appropriate, and exactly what the day demands.
Every detail feels like a final, deliberate touch, to the point that the reflection doesn’t feel like me—which, I suppose, is the point.
The house is quiet with Silas in his study down the hallway. I can picture him with his phone pressed to his ear, speaking in that steady, commanding tone of his. He’s been on calls almost constantly, and it sounds like the emergency board meeting will happen by the end of next week, if not sooner. In days, Silas will be stepping up as CEO.
I glance back at the mirror, biting my lip.Is this enough? Do I look the part?Today isn’t about me, but I can’t shake the weight of what standing beside him means.
A pang of uncertainty coils in my chest, and I try to push it down.
It’s one thing to think about what the press will say when the story breaks; it’s another to think about the people I spent months cozying up to as Scarlett Page finding out.
How are they going to react when they realize shewasn’t real?
Silas and Davey came up with a carefully crafted story to soften the fallout, which they’ll leak to the press in an hour. The official story is that I was a private cybersecurity advisor who used pseudonyms, like Scarlett Page, while consulting on high-profile cases. Silas had hired me under that alias to handle some of his personal security concerns, and over time, our relationship evolved. When my contract was complete, I left, but I have since stepped back from consulting to re-enter the public eye under my real name, so that we can be together.
The whole thing frames me as successful but private. To really sell it, Davey spent several days building a digital trail, just enough to look convincing. Luckily, if the story were true, my digital footprint would have been limited, anyway.
I smooth over my dress again.
“Beautiful,” Silas’s voice caresses me from behind.
I turn to find him leaning against the doorframe. His black suit is perfectly tailored, white shirt crisp, and black tie immaculately knotted. The morning light catches on his glasses, and his neatly trimmed curls frame his face.
“Is this okay?” I ask, gesturing to my outfit. My voice comes out softer than I’d like.
He gives me a pointed look while crossing the room. “More than okay,” he says, cupping my face in his hands gently. “You look perfect. Thank you for coming with me.”
I nod, my throat too tight to speak. He lingers a moment longer, thumbs brushing softly across my cheeks before he straightens to adjust his tie as if preparing for battle.
Those words should fill me, but they don’t. Not after our conversation a few days ago, which left me feeling hollow despite my telling myself I understood.
It replays in my mind on loop. Silas and Davey had called me into the study to talk. Davey spoke first, asking if I‘d feel comfortable attending the funeral services with Silas. For a fleeting moment, I was thrilled.They’d thought of me. Considered how I might feel. Silas wanted me there by his side, in public. But the illusion shattered only seconds later.
“This might be the fastest way to draw Peter out of hiding,” Silas’s added with a clinical tone. “He’s likely following the story, and if he sees you’re still alive and back with me, he’ll want to do something about it. The sooner he does, the sooner we can put all of this behind us.”
All of the progress I felt we had made, and the concern he had for my safety just days ago, vanished like a puff of smoke.
Silas’s reasoning is logical and practical. His team will be there, and the services are for invited guests. It’s the perfect, controlled environment to make the most impact. But his words only made it harder to decipher whether he wanted me there for me or because I make good bait.
“Of course.” I manage a small smile.
His returning smile is tender, and for a moment, it feels real, but it fades as the corners of his mouth tighten and his eyes harden around the edges like frozen dirt. Before I can ask what’s wrong, he leans in, brushing his lips against mine with a care that doesn’t disturb my lipstick.
When he pulls back, only a fraction of the warmth has returned to his gaze. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Someone?”
He exhales softly, his jaw flexing before he answers. “Luis.”
It takes me a moment to process the words. “He’s here?!”
Ben and Corey have been gone for several days. They were cleared to leave thanks to Corey’s automation. Davey debriefed me on their departures and the deal they had reached to keep quiet about what they were involved in. Given their line of work, I can’t imagine it took much convincing to agree to stay out of one another’s business. I’d assumed Silas had sent Luis on his way, too.
“It’s the safest time to get him back to Colorado,” Silas explains with too much control. “The services will keep eyes elsewhere.” He pauses, studying me for a beat. “He requested to see youbefore he left.”
