Secretly Mine
Chapter 125: Traces of a Woman 2 [Christian POV]

Chapter 125: Traces of a Woman 2 [Christian POV]

After the shower, I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist. My head was still filled with many questions, mainly who this mystery female was and how any of this could have been related to my accident.

There’s just too much coincidence. I must have discovered something at the auction house that night. That or I was set up.

The Moresis shouldn’t be aware of my investigation into them. They have no real reason to have sabotaged me like this.

I made my way over to the closet as I continued to think about the incident, but the moment I opened the closet door, the damp towel fell out of my hand.

It was just one or two dresses; it was an entire women’s section of a clothing store hanging neatly inside my closet.

Okay, this is concrete proof that there was a woman in my life. But who? Who could possibly enamor me so much as to get me to fill my closet with her clothing?

Not that much time had passed since my engagement to Morgan. If I really did have a lover, it couldn’t have been a long-standing one.

I stared at all of the clothing, trying to figure out who this woman was and why she hadn’t made an attempt to contact me.

After recovering from my initial shock, I looked through the closet in a slightly different light. All of the clothing was new and from the best brands, with a clear amount of effort put into sourcing only the best.

"Well, at least I know I’m not a pervert who carried panties in my pockets for fun," I sighed. Whoever this woman was, I clearly cared for her a lot.

I made my way to my section of the closet, where I picked out a simple t-shirt and sweatpants before glancing at all of the women’s clothing again.

The drawer containing this mystery woman’s bras and panties was slightly ajar, piquing my curiosity.

Surely knowing the size won’t do me any harm. At the very least, I could help identify this woman in the future.

32DD.

I wasn’t an expert in bra sizes, but a small smile still appeared on my face. The panties also matched the size of the ones I found in my pants pocket earlier, giving me peace of mind that this was indeed the same person.

After stepping out of the closet, I began to notice many other small items that were never there before: a small jewelry box, a silver platter with small accessories like hairties, and a set of women’s perfumes.

With every new item, I became more and more curious as to who this woman was.

How would I even face her if I met her now? Could I give her the same kind of affection as before, without all of our memories?

A number of new, difficult questions arose, and I found myself lost on whether or not I even wanted to find out who the woman was.

I walked back over to the bedside table where the plastic bag of old clothes was and picked it up. I wanted to take a closer look at the clothing to see if there was anything I had missed at the hospital that could tell me more about my ’accident’.

After quickly taking out the panties, I began to pull out my clothes. I rechecked both pockets to make sure there wasn’t anything else hiding inside before noticing small tears.

The tears were mostly located around the knee area, suggesting that I was kneeling on a rough surface at one point. Flipping the pants over, I noticed many more tears and dirt patches. It almost seemed as if I was dragged across the ground at one point.

Would they drag me like that in a car accident? Maybe someone pulled me out of the car?

I shifted my attention to the button-up shirt, noticing that it was in relatively good condition. Only a few parts around the collar were dirty.

The jacket was in a much worse state. Dirt and tears were seen pretty much all over. The pattern in which they appeared was very random. Unless I was dragged from side to side, they almost seemed deliberate.

I’ll have to find some experts to take a look at these. Something seems very off.

While inspecting the jacket, I felt something heavy in one of the pockets and opened it to find a very nice-looking watch.

I don’t remember owning this! Looks like a limited edition, it’s nice!

The watch had a nice weight to it and looked like it was in good condition. I really enjoyed how subtle it was while keeping a luxurious feel with the small sapphire at the center.

My mind pictured Morgan’s sapphire earrings that she couldn’t stop showing off.

Maybe there’s some sort of correlation?

I continued to inspect the watch, partially out of curiosity and partially out of excitement. I liked watches a lot, and this one was indeed very nice. As I twirled it in my hands, I noticed a small engraving on the back.

"A rose?"

Curiously, I ran my fingers over the engraving. This was the second time roses were brought to my attention, and looking closer, this engraving did remind me of the roses that Morgan brought me to the hospital.

"Don’t tell me it’s her..."

My head started to hurt, and my insides turned as I considered the possibility that this mystery woman was indeed my fiancée.

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t tell me that I’ve been intimate with Morgan Moresi."

Just as I was stuck in the middle of a horrible thought, Jonathan knocked on my door. "Sir, I’m here to check on you and see if there’s anything you need."

I turned to face the door, looking at it as if my savior had arrived.

"Jonathan, please come in!" I said urgently.

He quickly walked in, looking at me while trying to asses if I was in any danger. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

I looked at him with a very torn expression. "I don’t know yet, but I need you to tell me something."

"Anything, sir," he replied, bewildered.

"Tell me, whose clothes are those in my closet?"

I covered my eyes with my hands, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer. Jonathan took a moment to understand that I was talking about the women’s clothing and only replied a minute later."

"Sir, you bought those clothes for Miss Moresi." His words were calm and informative, but they caused the pit in my stomach to grow even bigger.

"Fuck!" I shouted, unsure of how to process the information. After taking a moment to rein in my fluctuating emotions, I looked up at him once more, needing to know the answer to the question that continued to eat away at me.

"Tell me. Was I intimate with her?"

A faint blush appeared on Jonathan’s cheeks, but he did his best to keep a neutral expression.

"Yes, sir. Very much so."

I felt everything around me spin. "How? How the fuck did I let myself get seduced by her? I was only engaged to her for my own reasons! HOW THE FUCK DID I GET INTIMATE WITH MORGAN MORESI?!"

The dizziness and nausea continued to intensity. Of all the people in the world, she was the one that I wanted the least, or so I thought. All of my memories of her were not so great. She was bratty, entitled, and annoying.

"Please tell me you’re lying," I said in a low voice. My tone was filled with pleading, and I didn’t even have the strength to look at Jonathan.

"No, sir. It’s very real. I...um...witnessed it myself?" he said in an unconfident manner. "But I believe you have misunderstood. It’s not the eldest Miss Moresi, but the second Miss."

The nausea that I thought was going to make an appearance at any moment quickly subsided. I opened my eyes and looked up at Jonathan.

"What? The woman I’ve been intimate with is Leslie?"

"That’s correct, sir." Jonathan nodded.

Then why did Zachary say that she was nothing to me when I asked him earlier? The only explanation is that he didn’t know about it.

"Thank you, Jonathan. Give me some time to organize my thoughts."

He nodded, "Sure thing, sir. Would you like me to clear out Miss Moresi’s things from your room?"

I paused for a moment, looking at the few things around my room that were for her. The correct answer should have been yes, but I found myself hesitant.

"No, just keep it as is for now."

Jonathan nodded and left the room. I sat on the edge of my bed, sorting through all of my interactions with Leslie.

Her reaction in the hospital makes sense now. It must have been hurtful not to be recognized after...after having clear affections for me.

Still, the situation was very delicate. One of the first questions I had for myself was: How did I even start a relationship with Leslie?

She was the sister of my fiancée. An intimate relationship with her was too taboo for her. I also wasn’t someone to do things in the dark.

Amidst all of the questions I had, I slowly realized that even though none of this made sense, I didn’t hate the idea of being with her.

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