The Mask Starts to Slip
I didn't that night. I couldn't. I sat by the window, my mind racing about the USB still plugged into my laptop. My father's voice echoed in my head.
His fear was palpable. **Damian Cross didn't love me; he owned me.** And now, I had proof of who he truly was.
The man I married wasn't just powerful. He was a monster dressed in a tailored suit. And I had willingly signed up to be his prey.
At dawn, the door slammed. I didn't want to know who it was.
I heard his watch click as he dropped it on the entry table, followed by the rustle of his jacket and the familiar sound of ice clinking in a glass.
Then…his voice.
"Claire."
I didn't turn or respond. I just stared out the window at a city that didn't care about the war raging inside me.
He stepped into the room, moving slower than usual. It was like he knew something, and I could feel the tension crawling under my skin.
"I don't like silence, wife," he said darkly. "Say something."
Finally, I looked at him. His eyes were rimmed with exhaustion, his jaw tight, but he was still composed. Still him.
What did you do to my father?
"Where did you hear that question?"
I walked over to the desk and unplugged the USB.
I have his recordings. His files. The ones you didn't want me to see.
His face went stone cold. "I warned you about Lucien."
And you warned my father too, didn't you? But your threats weren't just warnings; they were promises.
He moved forward, too fast. He grabbed my wrist, holding me still. "You don't understand what you've done."
No, I finally do.
His grip tightened. "If Lucien has those files, he's trying to destroy everything I built."
I met his eyes. Maybe he should.
"You think you know me, Claire? You think you've figured it out because of one flash drive?"
I know enough, Damian.
He laughed, a low, bitter sound. "You know nothing. That man, Lucien, used your father just like he's using you now. You're just a pawn to him."
And what am I to you? A trophy? A contract-bound prisoner?
His expression twisted between rage and heartbreak. "You're mine."
Not anymore.
He didn't touch me again or say a word.
That night, I stayed in my room and locked the door. Not because I was scared, but because I was angry, angry at what I might feel if I saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes again.
Part of me still wanted to believe him, and that was the most dangerous thing of all.
The next day, everything changed. I woke up to low, urgent male voices outside my door.
I cracked it open. Damian was in the hallway, talking to one of his lieutenants, Victor. He had a scar slicing under his cheek and a brutal look to match.
"She handed the USB to Lucien?" Victor asked.
"We confirmed the drop two hours ago. He has everything."
My blood turned to ice.
"She gave him the files…and she never said a word."
Damian's voice was unreadable. "Boss," Victor said cautiously, "she betrayed you."
A long silence followed. Then Damian said, "Leave her."
"What?"
"I said leave her." His voice turned sharp. "No punishment, no confrontation. She doesn't know what she's doing."
"But if she sides with Lucien…"
"She won't," Damian snapped. "She's angry, hurt; she needs to feel like she has the power."
Victor hesitated. "What if she finds out the truth?"
"She won't," Damian said. "Not until I'm ready."
They moved away from the door. I backed into my room, my heart pounding.
He knew. He knew I had given the files to Lucien, and he didn't retaliate.
That was the most terrifying part of all.
Later that afternoon, I received a dress at the door. Black velvet. Long-sleeved. Elegant and deadly.
A note was tucked inside.
Dinner. Seven. You'll want to hear this. D.
I thought about ignoring it, but I knew Damian. He didn't say things he didn't mean.
At exactly seven, I entered the dining room. He was already there, seated at the head of the table. Candlelight flickered off his glass. His jaw was freshly shaved, suit immaculate.
Yet…his eyes were different. Tired, shadowed.
He stood when I entered, pulled out my chair like a gentleman, and only sat once I did.
"You look stunning," he said softly. I didn't say anything.
He poured my wine and watched as I took a sip. Then, finally, he broke the silence.
"There's something I've kept from you about your father."
I tightened my throat. Great, what now? Another lie?
"No," he said, putting down his glass. "It's the whole truth." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flash drive.
"This has the missing files. The ones Lucien doesn't have."
I just stared at him. What could possibly be on it?
"It's a deal between your father and me. He was supposed to give me Lucien's blackmail files in exchange for keeping you safe. That's why I let him live for so long. But then he got scared and tried to leave. Lucien found him first."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked right at me. "Because if I had, you would've understood the truth. And you would've hated me even more than you do now."
I couldn't take my eyes off the flash drive, my heart racing. I was so confused about what to believe. Finally, I took the flash drive from him.
For the first time since we signed that contract, Damian didn't reach for me, didn't give me orders, and didn't demand anything.
He just stood there, watching me walk away, and whispered so softly, "I never wanted to break you, Claire. I just didn't know how to let you go."