Lily POV: When the waiter leaned down to whisper in Damon's ear, my heart leapt with excitement. Another surprise, I thought. He had already given me so much—jewelry, cars, even a villa. Just last week, he signed over an entire building in my name. What could it be this time?
Then the waiter handed Damon a small remote.
My smile faltered. A remote? Not a velvet box with a ring, not even a key to something grand. Maybe it was a video of us together, a montage of memories. Damon loved his dramatic gestures.
But the screen flickered to life—and in that moment, I knew.
Death was waiting for me.
The cooler Damon appeared, the more terrifying he became. His calm meant pain. His calm meant no mercy.
"No," I whispered to myself. He won't kill me. He loves me. He only loves me.
But when he rose from his chair, my breath hitched. His eyes followed me like a predator's. I barely heard his words—I was too busy clawing through my mind for an excuse, any excuse, to explain away what he had seen.
My legs gave out, and if not for his arms steadying me, I would have collapsed. He held me just enough to keep me standing, leading me toward the railing of the 140th floor terrace. Below, the city glittered like a thousand shards of glass. To me, it looked like the gates of hell yawning open.
"Damon," I begged, voice trembling, "it's not what it looks like. Please, let me explain."
His voice was almost tender, which frightened me more than fury ever could."Yes, honey. I'm listening. Convince me. I don't want to hurt you—or kill you. But you have only as long as it takes to persuade me."
I clung to that thin thread of hope. He wouldn't kill me. He loved me.
"Damon," I began, forcing the words out, "a few days ago, I went shopping with my friend. Out of nowhere, a car chased us down. Men in black suits dragged me into another car. That was the first time I saw Sam. He threatened me—he said if I didn't get him the bidding information, he'd kill you. Damon, you know how much I love you. The thought of losing you—" my voice broke "—I couldn't risk it. I chose your life over that contract."
I searched his face, desperate for a flicker of belief. Nothing. Only silence.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. "Then what about the drinks at the casino? The money he gave you?"
My pulse hammered. "The drinks—I refused, but he insisted. As for the money…" I swallowed hard. "I knew I was committing a sin, betraying the most caring man in my life. So I asked Sam for money. Not for myself—I donated it. To an orphanage. I thought… if we helped the poor, their blessings might keep you safe from your enemies."
Yes. That was it. That was enough. Surely he'd understand now. Surely he'd forgive me.
But Damon only murmured, "Hmm." His gaze shifted past me, toward the restaurant's entrance.
I turned, dread pooling in my stomach.
Why is he here?