Chapter 18

Arla POV

I sat in the garden, tossing a coin in my hand, as the evening breeze blew gently against my skin, carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers. The loud chirping of crickets filled the air; their melodic trill was a poignant reminder of the approaching dawn.

With each toss, the coins clinked against each other, their metallic kisses enveloping the air with a soft, soothing sound, like the gentle meeting of two swords.

"Ma'am, the flourishing tower in the open zone, beside the pillar trait, is open for movie scenes," a voice interrupted me, causing my attention to shift abruptly, like a vegetable being pulled out of the ground.

I swiveled my chair around, my hips twirling with a hint of irritation. My eyes widened in surprise. "What did you say?" I asked, feigning ignorance of her initial statement, my tone laced with a hint of disbelief.

"What do you mean it's open for movie scenes?" I asked, my eyes narrowing slightly.

The lady, a tall and slender figure with a kind face, smiled. "The Tower is a popular filming location, ma'am. You asked me to conduct thorough research about the place and report back to you, ma'am Arla."

She handed me a folder filled with papers and photographs. "I've gathered all the information you requested. The tower's history, its architecture, and the legends surrounding it are all included in this report."

I took the folder from her, my eyes scanning the contents. "Thank you,... um, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

"It's Ashley, ma'am. Ashley Woods. I'm the assistant," she began, but I cut her off with a wave of my hand.

"Okay, I've heard you. Just get back to work, Ashley," I said, my tone slightly dismissive.

"My apologies, ma'am," Ashley said, walking out of the garden. "I'm just so careful about sharing information."

I rolled my eyes, muttering under my breath, "I hate loose-lipped people." As I spoke, I accidentally sneezed, which silenced the notification bell on my phone. But another buzz immediately followed, and I mindlessly stared at the screen. "Closed ID?" I said it aloud, my voice laced with suspicion.

I sighed, my eyes fixed on the phone screen. A closed ID meant it was a private message, probably from someone I didn't want to talk to. But my curiosity got the better of me, and I swiped to open the message.

"Arla, it's been years since we last met. You've chosen a lovely place to settle. Come to the tower; let's talk." I gazed at the message, unsure of the sender, as thoughts raced through my mind. I pocketed the phone into my kimono dress, which had two large pockets, and tried to shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in.

"No way, I can't visit the tower," I said, disagreeing with the suggestion. But as I looked at the message again, another one appeared below it. "Won't you admire and enjoy your time with Damian, just the two of you, without a third party?" My eyes snapped open wide as I remembered the one person who loved to make such suggestive comments.

I felt a surge of emotions as I realized who was behind the messages. Evelyn, the charming and mysterious one, always had a way with words. His messages were always laced with hidden meanings and secrets.

My mind raced as I tried to process Ryker's message. Damian, my trusted friend and confidant, was somehow entangled in this enigmatic game. I was torn between curiosity and caution, unsure of what to do next. "Damian," I whispered, rushing to his chamber in search of answers. I slammed the door open, but he was nowhere to be found. The room was empty, with no signs of him anywhere.

Panic began to set in as I frantically searched the room, calling out his name. But there was only silence. I felt a sense of unease wash over me, as if something was terribly wrong. Evelyn’s message, Damian's... it was all too mysterious, too sinister.

I knew I had to find Damian, and fast. But where could he be? And what did Evelyn have to do with his disappearance? I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead. I was determined to cover the truth, no matter what secrets I might hold.

The door creaked open, and I hastily turned in his direction. I rushed towards him, calling out firmly, "Damian!" But he ignored me, walking towards his wardrobe to gather his clothes, his favorite attire.

"What are you doing in my room?" he asked, still shuffling through his clothes, his back turned towards me. His tone was calm, but I could sense a hint of annoyance beneath the surface.

"I could ask you the same thing," I replied, my eyes fixed on his back. "Why are you packing your clothes? And what's going on with the message you receive?"

Damian sighed and turned to face me, his expression unreadable. I'm living in the guest room, where I can find my peace. Peace?

"Peace?" I repeated, my voice laced with skepticism. "You're leaving your own room, your own space, to find peace in the guestroom? What's going on, Damian? You're not making any sense."

" Evelyn?" I spat out the name, my eyes fixed on the screen. "This lady is such a jerk.

I couldn't help seeing his eyes narrow and his jaw clenched. "Arla, give me my phone."

But I held it out of reach, my heart racing with anger and suspicion. "What are you doing, Damian? Are you willing to help me with your phone?

The message on the screen was cryptic, but it sent a chill down my spine. "Meet me at the tower, ah. Come alone."

I felt a surge of fear and protectiveness toward Damian. Was Evelyn trying to pull me in? I pray she won't get back at me or play some dangerous game. I turned to Damian, my eyes searching his face.