Chapter 35 – Whispers in the Fog
Chapter 35 – Whispers in the Fog
The wind howled across Lake Como, rattling the windows of the secluded villa like a warning. Damon stood at the edge of the balcony, a half-finished glass of bourbon in his hand. Below, the lake churned like his thoughts—restless, dark, and dangerously deep.
Celeste had gone silent.
Aurora had disappeared from the Milan tabloids for almost a week.
And Elijah Voss—the charming, overly polite stranger who had offered Damon unsolicited advice in a hospital corridor—had just texted him again.
“Still having trouble sleeping? We should talk. I’ve got something that might help.”
Damon didn’t reply. He didn’t like how Elijah always seemed to appear when he was most vulnerable. As if the man knew when his walls were about to crack.
Behind him, a low chuckle broke his silence.
He turned swiftly.
Luca, with his usual devil-may-care smirk, strolled in holding a giant mug. “You look like you’re about to either drown yourself in that lake or burn this place down. Neither’s a good look.”
Damon sighed. “You have a key?”
“I have a conscience. And a very persuasive housekeeper who thinks you need friends.”
He handed Damon the mug—coffee, with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream and a pink straw.
Damon stared at it. “Are you serious?”
“I’m trying to lighten the mood. Humor is my coping mechanism.”
“You’re not funny.”
“And yet here you are, still listening to me.” Luca sat on the railing, his legs swinging slightly over the edge. “Listen, man. I don’t know what’s going on in that glacier you call a brain, but I do know one thing.”
Damon raised an eyebrow.
“You still love her. Aurora. And that scares you more than whoever’s leaking your past.”
Damon looked away. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is. But it’s also not that complicated. You’re just… messed up. And for some inexplicable reason, so is she.”
A beat of silence passed between them.
Then Damon muttered, “What if I’m the one who ruins her?”
Luca’s smirk faded. “You already did. But you also gave her reasons to stay once. Maybe you can again.”
Just then, Damon’s phone buzzed.
Unknown Number. One Attachment. No message.
Another video.
He opened it.
This time, the footage was in black and white. A shadowed room. A younger version of himself—maybe four years ago—arguing with someone whose face was blurred. But the voice was familiar.
His own voice came through: “We made a deal. If this gets out, it won’t just bury me. It’ll bury her.”
The video ended abruptly.
Luca leaned in. “Was that…?”
“I don’t know. But someone has access to things I thought were destroyed.”
Damon’s phone buzzed again.
Text from Elijah
“Still think I’m just a stranger?”
Damon stared at it for a long time before tossing the phone onto a chair and downing the bourbon in one gulp.
---
Meanwhile…
Aurora stood in a quiet church in Venice, surrounded by flickering candles and fading frescoes. She had followed the digital trail from the “Venice Archives” folder and ended up here—at a sanctuary that once belonged to her father’s old associate.
She didn’t come to pray.
She came to find records.
But all she found was an old man sweeping the floor and humming to himself.
“Are you lost, signorina?”
“I’m looking for archives. There’s supposed to be a ledger with visitor names from 2019.”
He gave her a long, appraising look. “Some things are better forgotten.”
“I don’t believe that.”
He hobbled over to a side room and returned moments later with a dusty book. “Only because you’re too young to know the weight of remembering.”
Aurora opened the ledger, flipping past names—most unfamiliar.
Until she found it.
Damon Moretti. February 11, 2019. With: C.L.
Her hands trembled.
C.L.?
Celeste?
---
Back in Milan…
Elijah Voss sat in his apartment—walls lined with books, jazz playing softly in the background. He sipped wine from a crystal glass and smiled at his laptop screen.
On it was a live feed—Damon on his balcony, pacing like a man cornered.
Elijah leaned back and whispered to no one in particular, “You see, Damon. This isn’t revenge. This is balance.”
A voice behind him answered, low and gravelly, “You're getting attached.”
Elijah didn’t turn. “We all have our weaknesses.”
The shadow behind him stepped forward, features hidden beneath a dark hood. “Don’t let yours become the reason this fails. We’re not done with either of them.”
Elijah smiled. “Of course not. The real story hasn’t even started.”
---
Cliffhanger Ending:
Later that night, Damon received a call.
No number. No name.
Just a voice.
“You were right to fear the truth. It’s not the secrets that ruin you, Damon. It’s the people who remember.”
Click.
Silence.
And then, for the first time in a long time, Damon whispered to himself—
“What did we do?”