Before stepping toward the door, I lingered, hand brushing the pillow where her head had rested. My foot hovered at the threshold, torn between staying and stepping back. I wanted to linger, to hold her again, but for some reason, I couldn’t.
Something had shifted. I didn’t know what it was—what it meant, or how to name it—but I felt it in every ache, every pull toward her that I couldn’t ignore. This was different from anything I’d known, and the realization left me unsettled, raw in a way I hadn’t expected.
I stepped back, closing the door quietly behind me, leaving only the echo of my presence. She would wake soon, and for a moment, she would wonder why I was gone, why the room felt emptier, heavier. And maybe, without knowing it, that briefconfusion would stay with her—just as the memory of her would stay with me.
Chapter 20
Tessa
Iwoke to the quiet of the bedroom, the kind of silence that made the absence of movement almost deafening. At first, I thought Felix was just still sleeping, that his arm had just moved from around my waist to somewhere else. But when I opened my eyes, the bed was empty.
Panic didn’t rise immediately—just a hollow ache that settled in my chest. My fingers traced the space where he had been, the sheets still warm, the lingering scent of him heavy in the room.
“Felix?” I whispered, but there was no answer.
A small, sharp pang of disappointment hit me. He hadn’t left a note. He hadn’t whispered that he was gone. It felt abrupt, like he had just vanished, leaving me here with only memories of the night, and the echo of what I’d wanted more of.
I hugged the sheets to myself, a shiver running through me, not entirely from the cool morning air. Part of me understood—he probably had work to do—but another part couldn’t stop thehurt. I wanted him here. I wanted him to linger, to tell me I was his, to erase the confusion clawing at my chest.
But he wasn’t here, and I wasn’t his.
I looked down. Dark marks from last night littered my body, each one a reminder of him—of the way he had claimed me, the way he had made me feel like I belonged to him, if only for a night. My fingers traced one absentmindedly, lingering on the heat beneath my skin, and a shiver ran through me.
The bed felt impossibly large without him, and the marks he left were the only proof that he had been here at all. Part of me ached with longing, while another part tightened with confusion. He was gone, yet everywhere—imprinted on my skin, my mind, my pulse—and I couldn’t reconcile the memory with the empty space beside me.
I forced myself to sit up straighter, pressing my hands against the sheets as if steadying myself.Don’t dwell on it,I told myself.Focus on something else.I swung my legs out of bed, unsure where I was going other than not Felix’s room.
My eyes landed on Felix’s nightstand, where his Rolex sat, gleaming faintly in the morning light. Then it hit me—there was another watch I was far more eager to see. The pocket watch, buried somewhere in that messy pile downstairs, was calling to me, and I needed to find it.
That sparked a jolt of urgency in me. Barely thinking, I nearly ran down to the first floor, still in my underwear, and began rifling through the boxes. My fingers dug into the clutter, tossing aside documents, trinkets, and odds and ends, all the while my mind buzzing with anticipation.
Did one of those dates I found open the pocket watch? Or was I grasping at straws, hoping for something that might not even be there? My hands shook slightly as I kept digging, heart racing with the mix of hope and frustration.
Then, beneath a stack of old envelopes and necklaces, my fingers brushed something solid and cool. I froze for a moment, heart hammering, before pulling it free.
The pocket watch sat in my palm, heavier than I expected, its surface smooth and cool under my fingertips. I turned it over, tracing the intricate engravings, my pulse quickening.
“Now where was the lock?” I muttered, talking to nobody except the dust bunnies and spiders. I turned the watch over in my hands, running my fingers along the delicate edges, inspecting it like a puzzle I needed to solve.
Who had carried this? What secrets had it held? My pulse quickened as I traced the tiny latch, eager to see what lay hidden inside.
I held the pocket watch tightly, glancing at the tiny, intricate latch. “Which date to try,” I muttered to myself, flipping through the list in my mind. I had long since memorized the list; as if reading it multiple times would somehow give me the answers I was seeking.
My fingers trembled slightly as I tried the first date. Nothing. The second. Still locked. By the third, my heart was pounding—please, let this be it.I pressed the numbers in order, feeling the tiny mechanism give way with a soft click.
The watch sprang open in my hands. Inside, the face gleamed, pristine, and a small folded piece of paper peeked from the back. My breath caught—someone had hidden something here.
I carefully unfolded the tiny piece of paper tucked inside the pocket watch. The handwriting was delicate, clearly old, almost fading with age:
The proof lies where the portraits lean. Look beneath the gaze of those who watch, and the deceit will be revealed.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” I muttered, sinking to the floor, the pocket watch and the note clutched in my hands. My head spun, the cryptic message looping in my mind.
I was no Nancy Drew or Sherlock Holmes. I wasn’t smart, or particularly observant, or even patient enough to follow a trail like this without getting frustrated. Most of the time, I barely managed to keep my own life together—which I how I ended up in this brownstone in the first place.
So how was I supposed to unravel some long-hidden family secret? The note burned in my hands, its cryptic words mocking me: Look beneath the gaze of those who watch. I didn’t even know where to start.
Yet something inside me wouldn’t let me ignore it. And I was sure I had plenty of time left here. The brownstone was still messy—it was the size of a fucking mansion—and it would take my father a long time to pay off the debt he owed Felix.
