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Chapter 89 – Arya's POV
"She Wants a War"
I woke up with a heavy chest and an even heavier heart.
Damon had slept on the couch. Not because I told him to—but because he knew better than to try and fix what couldn't be fixed overnight. His apology echoed in my head, looping endlessly.
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to give her power."
But by hiding the truth, he'd done exactly that.
He'd let her in.
And now, she was getting bolder.
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The package arrived that morning.
Wrapped in soft gold paper with a white bow.
From the outside, it looked like a gift—maybe something Damon had sent as a peace offering. I almost smiled.
Almost.
Until I opened it.
Inside was a small, velvet jewelry box. My fingers hesitated before flipping it open.
A necklace.
A delicate chain with a single silver charm.
D-B-S.
Damon. Blackwood. Sophia.
My breath hitched. Cold rushed through me like ice in my veins.
I reached deeper into the box and found a card:
"Some things never really end. They just take a break."
– S.
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I didn't cry.
I didn't scream.
I stood there, staring at the necklace, feeling something sharp settle into my spine.
This wasn't subtle anymore.
Sophia wasn't just hoping Damon would come back.
She was trying to destroy me. Break me. Shake my foundation.
And the worst part?
She knew where I lived. She had access to my doorstep, my safety, my peace.
A line had been crossed.
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I put the necklace back in the box and grabbed my phone.
I thought about calling her. Thought about sending a threat, a warning, a scream through the screen.
But that's what she wanted.
She wanted to see me unravel.
So I did what hurt her more.
I didn't respond.
I simply walked into my art studio, locked the door behind me, and stared at the blank canvas in front of me.
Then I picked up my brush.
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Colors exploded under my hand—red, black, smears of white, twisted edges and jagged strokes. I wasn't painting beauty today. I was painting rage. Disgust. Betrayal.
I thought about Sophia laughing as she slipped that necklace into the box.
I thought about Damon, trying to protect me by lying.
I thought about the years I spent trying to forget her name.
And now she was back. Sending me trinkets. Photos. Messages. Mockery wrapped in bows.
She wanted a war?
She was going to get one.
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There was a knock on the door two hours later.
"Babe?" Damon's voice, soft, hesitant. "You've been in there a while. Everything okay?"
I didn't respond right away. I stared at the twisted chaos on the canvas, paint still dripping down the sides. Then I walked to the door and opened it.
He blinked at me. "Arya...?"
I held out the box.
He opened it slowly, and his face went pale.
"Where did you get this?" he asked.
"She sent it," I said. My voice was steady. "To the house. This morning."
His jaw clenched. "She's out of her mind."
I crossed my arms. "Do you still think hiding her from me protects me?"
He looked at me, guilt in every line of his face.
"No," he admitted.
I stepped back, letting him inside the studio.
"She wants me scared. Insecure. Weak." I gestured at the canvas. "But I'm none of those things anymore."
He looked at the painting, a messy storm of colors and fury, and nodded slowly.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I should've told you. About her showing up. About everything."
"You should've," I said. "Because the truth doesn't hurt me. Secrets do."
He exhaled, stepping closer. "I'll handle her."
"No," I said, stopping him with a look. "We'll handle her."
He blinked.
"She wants to mess with my peace, Damon. I won't let her. Not as the woman I used to be… and not as the woman I am now."
His voice softened. "And who's that?"
I smiled tightly. "The woman who doesn't lose twice."
---
That evening, I sent Sophia a message.
No threats. No warnings. Just a single photo.
It was a picture of Damon, holding Liam in one arm, his other hand resting on my swollen stomach as we all laughed on the porch. Pure. Real. Unbreakable.
Attached was a voice note:
"He's home.
With me.
Where he belongs."
No anger. Just truth.
Let her choke on it.
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End of Chapter 89 – Arya's POV