He Actually Hid My Body

"Mr. Sterling, we've had over a hundred commercial divers and thousands of local boatmen sweeping every inch of the river," Felix answered through the speaker, his voice crackling with background static. "They combed the entire route from the drop point all the way down into the lower delta. There is still no sign of Mrs. Sterling."

The harsh knot between Declan's eyebrows loosened at once. He sank into the leather of the desk chair, a smirk cutting across his mouth.

"What did I tell you?" Declan scoffed softly. "She's always known how to stage a performance. That's enough—order the teams to pack up. There's zero reason to keep wasting resources out there."

Felix hesitated on the other end, his unease clear over the line. "Even if Mrs. Sterling didn't jump, sir, she's still completely unaccounted for. What if something happened to—"

"She's holed up in a hotel somewhere, waiting for someone to beg her to come out," Declan cut him off, dismissive and cold. "Let her pout. Once she runs out of spite, she'll walk right back through the door."

He tapped the screen to kill the connection, tossing the phone aside. His gaze settled on the silver frame resting beside the blotter, his expression growing strangely distant.

The photograph showed the two of us right after a tennis match during the summer I turned seventeen. The sunlight had washed over the court, catching the wide, unbothered grin on my face.

A quiet trace of sentiment flickered across Declan's features as he stared down at the glass.

The sight made my stomach turn. Nostalgia? He felt longing for the girl in that picture?

The man standing over the desk was the very butcher who had carved that smile out of my life.

The click of the latch cut through the silence. Maya pushed into the room, slid the lock into place behind her back, and crossed the rug with deliberate strides. Without a word of hesitation, she dropped down directly across Declan's lap, straddling his thighs.

Declan jerked back from the sudden weight, his hands coming up against her shoulders. "Maya, cut it out."

"Declan, you couldn't keep your hands off me last night," she murmured, leaning into his space. "You clearly want me just as much, so why are you acting like a saint all of a sudden?"

She pressed her chest flush against his upper arm, letting her words brush against his ear. "This is Serena's old bedroom. Doesn't that make this a little thrilling?"

The sight of her trying to soil the last corner of this house that belonged to me sent pure fury tearing through my spectral chest.

"Get out!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, stepping toward them with useless fists. "Both of you, get the hell out of here!"

Neither of them flinched. My voice was nothing more than empty air in a locked room.

Declan didn't lean into her touch. His posture went rigid instead, guarded and cold.

"We had an explicit understanding, Maya," he said, holding his ground. "Last night was a single exception, and that was the end of it."

"Don't worry, Declan, I won't say a word to anyone," Maya whispered, shifting closer. "You aren't losing anything here. I just wanted to be near you."

She took his right hand, pulling his palm down hard against the fabric over her chest. "Feel how fast my pulse is going. Feel what you do to me."

Declan didn't give in like he had hours earlier. He gripped her wrist, shoved her weight off his lap in one rough motion, and stood up from the desk.

"I have things to handle," he muttered, adjusting his jacket. "I'm leaving."

The moment he moved toward the exit, the invisible bond took hold, dragging my floating form across the floor directly behind him.

As I was hauled through the doorway, I glanced over my shoulder. Maya remained by the desk, her face drained of its sweet charm and twisted into something bitter and dark.

Her lips parted, mouthing words so quiet they barely made a sound. "Declan... it's really too bad that Serena isn't ever coming back."

The volume was too low to catch Declan's ear, but I watched every syllable form on her mouth.

The realization struck me like a physical blow. Maya knew. She had a hand in what happened by the water.

A desperate surge of hate flooded through me, and I tried to throw myself back into the room to tear into her skin. The invisible boundary snapped taut, locking me within nine feet of Declan's retreating frame and dragging me away from the door.

I could only watch her sneer recede down the hallway as the distance between us stretched to its limit.

Declan climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key, the engine roaring to life.

I sat beside him in the passenger seat, staring out at the blurred lines of the street as the car accelerated, my thoughts spinning into overdrive. Did Maya contract a professional to ambush me by the pier?

No. The man behind the cloth had eyes that were sharp, deliberate, and undeniably familiar. I knew those eyes long before last night.

The moment the blade went through me, my consciousness had ripped away from my flesh, pulling me straight to Declan before I could unmask the killer.

If the attacker murdered me right there, why strip the wedding dress and discard it into the water while taking the body somewhere else entirely?

If the goal was purely to silence me, tossing both my body and the gown into the river together would have been the fastest, cleanest cover-up.

And if the motivation was money, that custom bridal gown was encrusted with millions of dollars in certified diamonds. Even if pawning the intact garment was impossible, anyone could pry the gems loose to sell across the black market.

The crime scene photos from the precinct showed the fabric entirely intact, aside from the punctures where the blade pierced through.

Just how deep did Maya's knowledge actually run?