The dining room gleamed under the soft golden light. Aria walked in, poised, her expression unreadable. Behind her, Damien followed in silence, his presence commanding but distant.
Marcus rose from his seat with a stiff smile. "Aria, I'm glad you could make it."
She gave a polite nod and took her seat. Damien sat beside her, his sharp eyes scanning the room once, then settling into silence.
Freya offered a welcoming smile. "And who might this be?"
Damien remained quiet.
"My fiancé," Aria answered smoothly, reaching for her glass of water.
The room stilled.
Evie's lips parted in surprise, eyes flicking between them. "Oh... you didn't mention anyone. You're quite handsome, Mr...?"
He didn't respond.
Marcus cleared his throat, clearly thrown off. "I wasn't aware you were seeing anyone."
"You weren't meant to be," Aria replied calmly. "You didn't ask."
Freya tried again, smiling thinly. "Well, we're happy to have you here. It's always nice to meet Aria's... friends."
"I'm not her friend," Damien said finally, his voice low and indifferent. "I'm the man she'll be standing beside—publicly and permanently."
The silence returned, heavier than before.
Aria straightened her posture, voice level. "Let's not waste dinner with idle questions. We can eat, and then I'll leave."
Marcus didn't argue. The atmosphere had shifted—this wasn't the Aria they knew. And Damien? He didn't need to say much. His presence alone silenced the table.
Dinner continued with a brittle silence. Every clink of silverware against porcelain seemed to underscore the unspoken tension.
Marcus cleared his throat. "Aria, I called you here because we need to discuss the state of Sterling Enterprises. It's important."
Aria didn't look up from her plate. "You mean the mess you created?"
He bristled. "Watch your tone. I'm still your—"
"You lost that title the day you sold out my mother's legacy."
Damien sat quietly beside her, his sharp features expressionless, but his presence alone was enough to draw everyone's attention. He said nothing—he didn't need to.
Evie, with her usual performative sweetness, smiled. "You've changed, Aria. You even look... more confident. Is it love?"
Aria gave her a slow glance. "No, just clarity."
Damien's hand moved under the table and rested lightly on her waist, a silent declaration of where he stood.
"She doesn't need love to glow," he said coolly. "But she has it now—me. And I don't share."
Evie blinked, her smile freezing.
Marcus sat straighter. "What exactly is your relationship?"
Aria pushed her chair back, rising with a calm finality. "He's my fiancé."
Damien stood as well, his hand still resting protectively on her waist. "And I'm not here to negotiate with anyone who failed her."
"You don't know what you're involving yourself in," Marcus snapped.
Damien met his gaze without flinching. "Neither do you."
"Let's go, Damien," Aria said, glancing over her shoulder, her voice soft but certain.
"As you wish," he replied, escorting her out with quiet dominance, leaving behind a room full of shaken faces and broken pride.
The grand doors of the Sterling dining room shut with a muted thud behind them. Aria walked ahead, her heels tapping softly on the marble, her face a mask of composure. Damien followed, quiet and unwavering.
Not a single word passed between them as they made their way to the car. The hallways felt colder than before, the silence more suffocating. Every step echoed with memories Aria wanted to bury.
Once inside the car, the door clicked shut and the driver rolled up the partition. The silence remained.
Damien glanced over at her, his tone low. "Are you okay?"
Aria didn't answer at first. Her fingers twisted together in her lap. Her chest felt heavy—like a weight pressed just below her collarbone, squeezing around her lungs. It was the ache of old wounds being reopened.
"I thought I'd feel strong," she whispered. "Walking back in there. Facing them. But I didn't. Not really."
She swallowed, trying to breathe past the tightness coiling in her chest. It felt like her heart was pushing against a cage, every beat a reminder of everything she had lost.
"It still hurt," she murmured. "The house, the room, the way they looked at me… like I was still the useless girl they could control."
Her voice broke. The ache in her chest swelled, rising like a tide, until it spilled over as silent tears.
Damien said nothing, but the shift in the air between them was unmistakable. His presence grew warmer, closer.
Aria couldn't hold it in anymore.
She turned suddenly and buried her face into his chest, the dam breaking. Her hands clutched at his shirt, and the pain in her chest unfurled with every sob—raw and aching, like her heart had been split open.
Damien held her, solid and sure. His arm curled around her protectively, the other resting against her back with steady pressure.
"I miss her," she sobbed. "My mom… She made that house feel like home. Now it's nothing. It's cold. It's fake."
Damien's hand gently moved up to her hair, grounding her.
"My mother died too," he said, his voice like gravel softened by memory. "She was killed. Wrong place, wrong time. They said it was just business fallout. She protected someone who didn't deserve it."
Aria lifted her head slightly, just enough to see his expression. The dim light softened his features, but his eyes were sharp with memory—and pain.
"I know what it's like," he said. "To carry something so heavy it becomes part of your breath. To feel like the only way to honor them is to burn everything down."
Aria inhaled shakily, her cheek pressed to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. Her chest still ached, but not as sharply.
"They said it was a drunk driver," she whispered. "But I don't believe it. I know Marcus and Freya are hiding something."
Damien's hand found hers, fingers closing firmly around hers.
"Then we uncover the truth," he said. "For your mother. And for you."
She looked up at him, her voice trembling. "Together?"
He nodded once. "Always."
The drive continued, the soft hum of the car becoming the background to the quiet tension that lingered between them. Aria could feel Damien's presence beside her, solid and unwavering, but she still couldn't shake the whirlwind of emotions that swirled inside her. She wanted to pull herself together, to find the strength she'd always relied on—but the weight of the past, the betrayal, the pain of her mother's loss, and the uncertainty of everything that was unfolding left her feeling vulnerable in a way she wasn't used to.
Damien glanced at her, his sharp gaze softening as he saw the faint tremor in her hand, the subtle signs of her struggle to regain composure. It hurt him to see her like this, to know that beneath the calm exterior, she was unraveling. But he couldn't rush her—he knew better than to force her to confront everything before she was ready.
The car turned into the driveway of the mansion. The sudden stillness seemed to amplify the silence between them.
"You don't have to go inside yet if you don't want to," Damien said, his voice low but firm.
Aria looked at him, her heart pounding, still raw from the vulnerability she had allowed herself to show. She opened her mouth to speak but hesitated. Part of her wanted to be strong, to step out of the car and face whatever was waiting for her. The other part wanted to stay right here, in the quiet of the night, where everything felt simpler.
"I don't know if I can do this," Aria admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Damien turned slightly toward her, his gaze unwavering. "You don't have to do anything alone. Not anymore."
Her chest tightened at his words. She wasn't used to relying on anyone, not like this, not in the way he was offering. But somehow, in his presence, the idea didn't feel as terrifying as it should have.
He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch light but grounding. "Let's take it one step at a time, alright?"
Aria nodded, a small, fragile smile tugging at the corner of her lips. For the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of peace—a fleeting moment where she didn't have to carry the weight of everything on her own.
The moment was interrupted as Damien's phone buzzed, the noise sharp in the quiet of the car. He glanced at the screen and sighed, a slight frown pulling at his brow. "I should handle this," he muttered more to himself than to her.
He answered the call, his voice professional but curt as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. Aria's mind drifted, her thoughts once again wandering back to the reasons she was here—Marcus, the legacy her mother had left behind, and the tangled web of lies that had kept her in the dark for so long.
But in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but think of Damien—of the promise he seemed to offer, one that she wasn't sure she was ready to trust, but one that also felt strangely comforting.
Damien hung up the call and looked at her, his expression softening. "We'll face whatever comes next, together. I'll be here."
Aria gave him a small nod, the weight of his words settling over her. "Thank you."
For the first time since her return, a sense of resolve started to form inside her. She wasn't sure what the future held, or what it meant to trust Damien with this part of herself. But for the first time in a long while, she wasn't running away from it.
The car ride had been quiet, almost suffocating in its silence, but now as the mansion loomed ahead, Aria stepped out of the car and felt a rush of cool air against her skin. The weight of the evening's conversation, the rawness of her emotions, lingered in her chest.
Damien watched her walk toward the entrance, his gaze following her every step. For a moment, he simply stood there, his hand still gripping the door. But he didn't move. He didn't speak. Instead, he stared at the empty space she left behind, feeling a strange tension settle into his bones.
In Aria's Room:
As she entered her room, Aria closed the door behind her softly, leaning against it for a moment as if trying to release the weight of the world she'd been carrying. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, and her mind kept circling back to one person—Damien. The way he had stood beside her tonight, the way his presence had anchored her when everything else felt like it was falling apart.
Why is this so hard? she thought, her fingers brushing the cool surface of her vanity as she stared at her reflection. Her eyes, tired and worn from the emotional rollercoaster, met her own gaze in the mirror. She had been so focused on revenge, on bringing down Marcus and Freya, on reclaiming her mother's legacy. Yet here she was, her heart betraying her, feeling something she hadn't planned for. Something soft. Vulnerable.
She let out a slow breath, pushing her hair back from her face, trying to steady herself. She had to stay focused. She couldn't afford to let her feelings get in the way. Not now. Not when everything was so close to falling into place.
But a quiet voice in the back of her mind whispered, Maybe this is more than you bargained for.
Aria clenched her jaw, shaking her head as if to dismiss the thought. It doesn't matter, she told herself. He's just a tool. A stepping stone. Nothing more.
Yet, deep down, she couldn't ignore the way her chest had tightened when he had looked at her earlier. The warmth of his hand on her waist, the subtle protectiveness that had radiated from him when she'd been vulnerable. There was something there, something she couldn't quite understand.
She sat on the edge of the bed, closing her eyes, trying to block out the storm of emotions. Focus on the mission, Aria. Revenge first. Everything else later.
In Damien's Room:
Damien leaned against the door of his room, eyes scanning the quiet, darkened space before him. His mind was a battlefield of conflicting emotions, the quiet hum of the mansion barely registering in the back of his consciousness. All he could think about was Aria—how she had seemed so fragile tonight, how her walls had come down in front of him, even if only for a moment.
He hadn't expected it. The soft look in her eyes when she had spoken of her mother, the way her voice had trembled, barely able to hide the cracks in her composed exterior. For the first time, Damien saw beyond the cold, calculated woman he'd met in his library. He had seen a glimpse of the real Aria—the woman who carried the weight of her past on her shoulders, the one who was desperately holding on to everything she had left.
And it had made something stir in him. He had been prepared to use her, to keep her as a means to an end, but somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred. Somewhere along the way, he had started seeing her as more than just a pawn in a game. And that terrified him.
She's a means to an end, he reminded himself harshly, his fingers curling into a fist at his side. Nothing more.
But then, his mind drifted back to the way she had looked at him when she was vulnerable, how she had buried her face in his chest, her breath uneven against him. Something inside him had ached at that moment, and it wasn't just the desire to protect her—it was something deeper, something he couldn't explain.
Dammit, he thought, his jaw tightening. What the hell is happening to me?
Damien ran a hand through his hair, pacing across the room, the weight of his feelings pressing against him like a physical force. Focus. Stay focused, he reminded himself. There's too much at stake. She's not here for anything other than revenge. And neither are you.
But even as he tried to convince himself of that, a part of him wasn't so sure anymore. He had tried to deny it, tried to keep his distance, but there was something about Aria—about her strength, her resilience, and yes, even her vulnerability—that made him feel... something. Something he wasn't prepared for.
Back in Aria's Room:
Aria stood by the window, staring out into the night, the cool breeze brushing against her skin. She wasn't sure when it had happened—when she had allowed herself to become so aware of him, to feel his presence so strongly. But the truth was, she had no control over it now. Damien had made an impact, one she couldn't easily erase, and she wasn't sure if she even wanted to.
She closed her eyes, fighting the pull in her chest. Revenge first. Everything else later. She repeated the mantra to herself, trying to push all her other thoughts aside.
But, deep down, she knew it wouldn't be that simple.
In Damien's Room:
He sat in the chair by the window, staring out into the darkened world beyond. His mind was a mess—everything had become so complicated. He had never allowed himself to feel things for anyone. But with Aria, it felt different. And that terrified him.
Stay focused, he thought again, but the thought came with less conviction than before.
Both of them lay in the quiet of their rooms, each lost in their thoughts, each trying to convince themselves that nothing had changed. But deep down, they knew. Something had shifted between them, something that couldn't be ignored. Whether they wanted to admit it or not, they were both standing on the edge of something they couldn't fully control.
The next day
Aria sat at her desk in her room, the soft glow of a desk lamp illuminating the stacks of files before her. Her fingers moved slowly over the papers, but her mind was elsewhere—on the dinner, on Damien, and on the growing confusion she felt within herself. The world outside was dark, but inside her room, the quiet was almost suffocating.
She had planned to focus on work tonight, to lose herself in the files that she needed to go through for Sterling Enterprises. But it wasn't helping. The ache in her chest, the pull she felt toward Damien—it was impossible to ignore.
She leaned back in her chair, rubbing her eyes, trying to push her thoughts away. Focus, Aria. There's no room for distractions. But that thought only made her wonder why Damien's words and his presence lingered like an invisible force, impossible to shake off.
The door creaked open, and Damien stepped inside, his silhouette barely visible in the dim light. He didn't say a word at first, just stood there, watching her with an unreadable expression.
"Are you still working?" His voice broke the silence, softer than usual.
Aria didn't look up from the papers in front of her, her mind still wrapped in the haze of thoughts. "I have things to take care of."
Damien walked further into the room, his footsteps quiet but purposeful. He leaned against the doorframe, his presence undeniable. "You should rest, Aria. You've been going at this for hours."
She sighed, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. The room felt smaller with him in it. His eyes, intense and searching, made her stomach tighten, but she quickly hid the reaction, focusing on the task at hand.
"I'm fine, really," she said with a soft smile, trying to reassure him. "I just want to get everything in order."
Damien didn't respond immediately. Instead, he studied her, his gaze shifting to the work spread out before her. His jaw clenched slightly, a flicker of something in his eyes before he spoke again.
"Aria..." His voice softened, and she could hear the faint hint of concern, something that unsettled her. "You can't keep pushing yourself like this. It's important to take care of yourself too."
Aria stood, pushing the chair back with a soft scrape. She needed space, needed to breathe away from the weight of his words, his presence. "I know you're concerned, but I can handle this. I've always handled things on my own."
Damien took a small step closer, and Aria's breath caught, her pulse quickening slightly. She tried to ignore the fluttering feeling in her chest, but it was hard to shake.
"You don't have to handle everything alone, Aria," he said, his voice still soft but with an underlying firmness. "I'm here, and I'll help however I can."
She bit her lip, looking away for a moment, trying to keep her emotions in check. "I appreciate that, Damien. But there's so much at stake right now. I have to keep going. I can't afford to rest."
Damien looked at her quietly for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a soft sigh, he nodded. "I understand. But please, don't wear yourself out. We both know how important this is, but your well-being is important too."
Aria met his gaze, feeling a strange warmth spread through her chest. His concern wasn't just about the task at hand—it was about her. And that meant something.
"I promise I'll take care of myself when I can," she said, her voice more vulnerable than she intended. "Right now, I just need to finish this."
Damien gave a small nod, but his eyes held something more—something gentle, something that made her feel like she wasn't as alone as she had thought. He lingered for a moment, but then he turned to leave, his footsteps quiet as he exited the room.
Aria stood there for a while, her heart racing. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving her in the stillness of the room. She exhaled slowly, her thoughts once again swirling around Damien, around the strange pull she felt when he was near.
What is this? she wondered, her fingers lightly brushing the papers in front of her. Is this just gratitude, or something more?
But no matter what it was, she couldn't afford to let it distract her. Not now. Not when everything was at stake.