CHAPTER TEN — THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Charlotte's footsteps echoed down the hallway as she left Alexander's study, but her heartbeat was louder—fast, uneven, almost painful. She closed the bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it, breathing hard.
An investigator.
Requested last week.
Why last week?
Why at all?
And why had Alexander suddenly acted like she wasn't supposed to hear a single word of it?
A hundred possibilities tangled in her head, each one twisting tighter.
Then one stood out—sharp and terrifying.
Is he investigating me?
She pressed a hand over her chest, trying to calm the rising panic. Their contract bound her to him legally, financially, socially. But he knew almost nothing about her past… and he had never asked.
Until now.
She paced across the room, biting her lip. The rain was still falling outside, streaking the glass with thin silver trails. Her reflection looked pale, shadowed with worry.
There had to be a reason. Alexander didn't do anything without one.
But what if—
The sound of footsteps in the hallway froze her.
They weren't Alexander's.
Too heavy.
Too slow.
The bedroom door remained closed, but the footsteps stopped somewhere outside, followed by faint murmuring voices. Charlotte stepped back from the door, every muscle tense, straining to hear.
She caught a whisper.
"… confidential files …"
"… the girl …"
"… evidence …"
Her breath caught painfully in her throat.
She pressed her ear to the door.
The second voice was deeper—older. Probably the investigator.
The first voice was Alexander's, cold and controlled.
"No assumptions," he said sharply. "I want facts. Nothing less."
Charlotte's blood ran cold.
The girl.
Facts.
Evidence.
He wasn't just asking for information.
He was demanding proof.
Proof of what?
Her stomach twisted painfully as she stepped away from the door. Every part of her wanted to open it, confront him, demand answers—but she remembered how he'd looked at her moments ago. Like a man at war with himself. Like he couldn't risk her knowing anything more.
She backed up until she reached the far corner of the room, clutching the robe tighter around herself.
She felt small. Exposed. Alone.
Outside, the voices faded.
Then came the quiet click of Alexander's office door closing.
She waited. Minutes passed. Then more. She hadn't even realized she was shaking until the bedroom door knob turned.
Charlotte stiffened.
The door opened slowly, and Alexander stepped inside. His expression was unreadable—too calm, too smooth, like someone who had sealed something dangerous tightly inside himself.
He shut the door.
"We need to talk," he said.
Her lungs locked.
"With… with the investigator?" she asked.
He blinked once, and something flickered in his eyes. "You heard that?"
"Hard not to." She swallowed. "Who is he? Why was he here?"
Alexander took a step forward. "You weren't supposed to hear anything."
"That's not an answer."
He exhaled through his nose, frustration tightening his jaw. "Charlotte, this isn't something you should be involved in."
Hurt flashed through her. "Involved? I'm living in your house. Sleeping in your bed. Wearing your ring. How am I not involved?"
His shoulders tensed. "Because this—this part—concerns me. Not you."
"But it sounded like—" Her voice broke. "It sounded like you were talking about me."
His silence confirmed everything.
Charlotte's breath trembled. "Alexander," she whispered, "are you investigating me?"
His eyes hardened—not with anger, but with the kind of internal struggle that made the air around him feel dangerous.
He didn't deny it.
He didn't confirm it.
He just walked farther into the room like a man preparing for a conversation he had no intention of having.
"Charlotte," he said quietly, "sit."
She didn't move. "Just tell me."
"Sit," he repeated, firmer this time but not quite rough.
She shook her head, tears burning behind her eyes. "I deserve to know the truth."
He stopped in front of her. His chest rose and fell slowly, like he was fighting the urge to grab her shoulders and force her to calm down.
"You do," he said at last. "But not yet."
Her heart cracked. "Not… yet?"
"I need more information before I tell you anything."
"More information about me?" she asked, voice trembling.
He didn't respond.
Her lips parted in disbelief. "Why? What do you think I've done?"
He stepped forward quickly, catching her hands in his. His voice dropped to a rough whisper.
"Charlotte, I am not accusing you of anything."
"You brought an investigator!"
"I'm trying to protect myself," he snapped—then softened immediately when she flinched. "And you," he added in a quieter tone. "I'm trying to protect you too."
Her voice broke. "From what?"
Alexander lowered his head, breathing hard, as if the truth sat heavy on his tongue but refused to come out.
Then his eyes met hers—dark, conflicted, burning with something raw.
"I think someone from your past is trying to get to me," he said slowly. "And I need to be absolutely certain they're not using you to do it."
Charlotte staggered back as if he had slapped her.
"Using… me?"
"Charlotte—"
"No!" She pulled her hands away, voice shaking. "How could you even think something like that? You think I'm some kind of weapon?"
Pain flickered across his features. "I never said that."
"But you implied it."
He closed his eyes briefly. "I am trying to keep you safe."
"By investigating me?"
"By making sure no one can hurt you through me."
"But you think someone already is," she whispered.
He said nothing.
Her throat tightened. "Alexander… what did the investigator find?"
For the first time since she walked into the room, Alexander looked away from her. Not with avoidance—but with conflict. Deep, troubled conflict.
"Nothing solid yet," he said. "But enough to worry me."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Worry you… about me?"
He shook his head sharply and stepped toward her again. "No. Worry me for you."
She felt her breath catch.
His voice grew softer. "I think someone is watching you."
The world froze.
Charlotte stared at him, feeling every piece of her shatter into silence.
"Watching… me?"
He nodded, jaw locked, eyes filled with a storm.
"And until I know who they are," he said, "I am not letting anything happen to you."
Charlotte swallowed. "Alexander…"
He reached out, cupping her face gently, thumb brushing her cheek.
"This contract started as revenge," he murmured. "But protecting you isn't part of the contract. It's something I'm choosing."
Her heart thudded painfully.
A thousand questions burned inside her—but only one reached her lips.
"Who would watch me?"
His voice dropped to a whisper—dangerous, soft, and filled with a truth he hadn't wanted to speak.
"Someone who knows exactly who you really are."
Charlotte froze.
Alexander went still too—because he saw her reaction. Her shock. Her fear.
"Charlotte," he said slowly, carefully, "what aren't you telling me?"
Her breath trembled.
And for the first time since this marriage began—
Charlotte wasn't sure the past she'd buried was going to stay buried much longer.
—END OF CHAPTER 10—