Chapter 5 Unanswered Questions

Kieran's POV

The door of the Vale mansion slammed shut behind me. House staff quietly greeted me as I walked through the grand entrance hall, but I barely acknowledged them, because my mind was somewhere else.

I walked straight through the hallway and headed toward my study.

“Kieran."

Vanessa's voice stopped me.

She stood at the foot of the staircase, no longer wearing the engagement gown. She had changed into a silk robe, her bare feet resting against the polished floor. The sparkle she had worn before the cameras was gone, replaced by the anger of someone who had just been humiliated in front of hundreds of guests.

"What happened back there?" she asked. "You walked off the ceremony with the excuse that you were not feeling well, and you never came back. Do you have any idea what that looked like?”

I slipped both hands into my pockets. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I just needed some air.”

"Air?" Vanessa let out a short laugh, but there was nothing funny in it. "You left me standing alone in front of four hundred guests while reporters pointed cameras at my face. My father has already called three times. The Pierce family board wants to know if this engagement, and the merger, is still happening.”

"I’ll handle it."

She crossed her arms. "By running away?"

That made me look at her.

Vanessa’s expression softened slightly. Hurt replacing anger. “Why are you doing this? Did I do something wrong? Or is anything bothering you?”

I exhaled. "No. You didn’t do anything wrong."

"Then what?”

I shook my head. "I don’t know."

And that was the truth. I didn’t know why an unknown woman had made my hands shake, or why I couldn’t stop seeing her smile as she walked out of the door.

Vanessa stared at me for a long time, then she turned and walked up the stairs without another word.

I watched her disappear before quietly making my way to the study.

The room was dark except for the soft glow of the desk lamp. I poured myself a glass of whiskey but never took a sip.

A few moments later, my phone vibrated.

MARCUS: On my way. Ten minutes.

Exactly ten minutes later, Marcus knocked once before entering. He placed a laptop and a thin leather folder on the desk.

"I found her," he said.

I looked up.

"Her name is Mira Sutton. She is twenty-eight years old. She's a freelance investigative reporter, and doesn't work for a single newspaper. She sells her stories to several independent news platforms."

I leaned back in my chair.

Marcus continued. "No criminal record, no lawsuits, Financially... She's struggling. Her rent is two months late, and she lives alone in a small apartment above a laundromat in the Old District.”

"What about family?"

"Her parents died in a car accident five years ago. No siblings, no listed relatives, and no emergency contact."

I nodded slowly.

Marcus opened another file. "She has lived in this city for exactly three years.”

I frowned. "And before that?"

Marcus shook his head. "Nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"No lease history, no employment records, no tax filings, no school records… even her social media accounts were all created three years ago."

Silence settled between us.

My eyes narrowed. "Three years. The time matches… "

Marcus interrupted. “Yes sir.”

Neither of us spoke for several moments.

Marcus clicked through a few more files. "Everything else checks out, no political affiliations, and no criminal connections."

Then he stopped.

His expression changed, and I noticed immediately. "What is it?"

Marcus turned the laptop around. "There was one thing that stood out."

I looked at the screen.

Marcus pointed toward a list of published articles. "Her last three investigations all involve the same company."

I read the name.

“ELYSIUM SHIPPING.”

Marcus continued. "The first exposed illegal contracts. The second uncovered financial irregularities involving one of the company's former executives. The third questioned the insurance settlement following the yacht explosion."

My gaze remained fixed on the screen.

Marcus spoke quietly. "It doesn't look like a coincidence."

I remained silent, my eyes fixed on the company's name glowing on the laptop screen.

Three years.

The number echoed inside my head like an unwanted reminder. Three years since Celeste had supposedly died. Three years since a woman named Mira Sutton had suddenly appeared with no trace of a life before that.

I slowly looked up at Marcus. "Is that everything?"

He hesitated. "No, sir."

I recognized that look immediately. Marcus only hesitated when he wasn't certain how I would react.

"What is it?"

He clicked another file open before turning the laptop back toward himself. "I dug a little deeper into Miss Sutton's background after I noticed the gap in her records."

"And?"

"The more I searched, the stranger it became."

I leaned back in my chair without taking my eyes off him.

"There are no university records under her name from three years ago. No previous employers, no tax history, and no property records. Even her online presence began exactly three years ago."

He paused before continuing. "It's almost as though she appeared out of nowhere."

The room fell silent.

I tapped my finger once against the desk. "Could someone erase that much information?"

Marcus nodded slowly. "It isn't impossible. It would require someone with resources, but yes... it can be done."

I frowned.

"Or," Marcus continued carefully, "she created a completely new identity."

Neither possibility sat well with me.

I looked back at the photograph clipped to the corner of her file. Nothing about her suggested she is living under a false identity.

Marcus folded his hands behind his back. "From what I can tell, she isn't chasing random stories. She's been following Elysium Shipping for months."

"How close has she gotten?"

He opened another document. "She has visited the company's headquarters several times requesting interviews. She also interviewed former dock workers, retired engineers, and two ex-employees who resigned shortly after the explosion."

I looked up sharply. "How do you know that?"

"I checked her published references and cross-matched them with public records."

I nodded slowly.

He took a slow breath. "She filed three formal requests to obtain the original investigation files from the yacht explosion."

I stared at him. "Three?"

"All three requests were denied."

"And she stopped?"

Marcus shook his head. "No, sir. She started interviewing people instead."

Silence settled between us once more.

I turned toward the window. The city lights stretched across the darkness, but I barely noticed them. Why would a freelance reporter spend months chasing a case everyone else had forgotten?

Marcus broke the silence. “Do you think tonight was really a coincidence, sir?”

I didn't answer immediately. The thought had crossed my own mind more than once since leaving the hotel.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly.

Marcus watched me carefully. "Should I continue looking into her?"

I turned back toward the desk. My eyes fell on the old photograph lying beside the laptop.

Celeste smiled back at me exactly as she had three years ago.

I clenched my jaw.

"No resemblance should have been enough to make me question reality.” I muttered to myself.

Marcus frowned. "Sir?"

I slipped the photograph back into my pocket before closing the laptop. "Get me every article Mira Sutton has ever written."

Marcus gave a short nod.

"And find out how she was assigned to tonight's engagement."

Marcus picked up the folder. "I'll have everything on your desk by morning."

As he turned to leave, I stopped him. "Marcus."

He looked back. "Keep this between us."

He turned back a little. "Not even Miss Pierce?"

I held his gaze for a moment. "No one."

Marcus nodded once before quietly leaving the study.

The room fell silent again.

For the first time in three years, I found myself asking a question I never thought I would.

Who exactly was Mira Sutton?