THREE MONTHS LATER…
I lived like a ghost. Every day, I had to play the role of a devoted wife inside that cold villa. Nicolas vanished after the wedding, sending only occasional envelopes of money.
Noah, though mute, quietly cared for me — setting the table, helping me cook, and leaving small notes written in delicate handwriting:
“Don’t be afraid.”
“I’m not like them.”
One stormy night, I woke to loud banging. I went downstairs and saw Nicolas, drenched, his eyes burning with rage. He grabbed me roughly:
“You’re mine, Elena!
No one can have you — not even him!”
I tried to break free, but Noah appeared from the shadows. He pushed Nicolas away and gestured desperately: Run! I heard a struggle behind me – splashing, shouting, then silence.
When the police arrived, Nicolas’s body was found in the lake. Noah had disappeared.
THE TRUTH ABOUT THE INHERITANCE
After the funeral, I learned the truth.
The villa and all family assets were left by their late father under one strange condition:
“The estate belongs entirely to Noah. But if Noah marries before turning thirty,
Nicolas will become the legal manager. If Nicolas dies, all wealth must be donated to charity.”
Nicolas, though the twin, was not entitled to anything.
He could only control the fortune through Noah’s legal marriage. So he seduced me, forged a wedding, and used me as his “wife on paper” – planning to claim everything, then remove both of us. Everyone was part of his deception except Noah and me.
Poor Noah… he thought he truly had a wife and a home. But he was only a pawn in his brother’s cruel game.
NOAH’S NOTEBOOK
Three days after the funeral, I found a small notebook in Noah’s drawer.
Inside, hundreds of lines written in uneven letters:
“He says the marriage will save the family.”
“He smiles, but I see him cry at night.”
“When I’m gone, tell him: I didn’t want to hurt him anymore.”
My tears soaked the pages. Noah had known everything. He realized the lie yet still protected me, even at the cost of his own life.
THE LAST MEMORY
The police claimed Nicolas’s d3ath was an acc:ident that he slipped and drowned. But I know it wasn’t. Noah fought for my life, and perhaps, in his final moments, chose to end the cycle of deceit.
I left that villa, taking only his notebook with me. And sometimes, when it rains at night, I hear soft tapping at my window like someone trying to speak, yet unable to make a sound. “Don’t be afraid…I’m still here.”
