The city lights stretched endlessly across the skyline, reflecting off glass towers like scattered diamonds. Cars honked in the distance, neon signs flickered, and the hum of nightlife pulsed through the streets. Yet Elara felt none of the excitement. Her heart thumped violently as she darted through shadows, blending into the stream of pedestrians.
The Blackwell mansion—her gilded prison—was miles behind her. Its towering walls and guarded gates had kept her confined, a captive to Adrian Blackwell's wealth and obsession. Tonight, she had escaped again, slipping past his men with a mixture of fear and determination.
It was Damon's birthday.
She had missed the last one, locked inside Adrian's mansion after being caught sneaking out.
Every step toward Damon's apartment was a risk. Every glance over her shoulder reminded her of the consequences she could face if caught. Yet the thought of him waiting for her, oblivious to her struggles, drove her forward.
The apartment building loomed ahead: sleek, modern, and unmistakably hers—Damon's birthday gift from one of his birthdays. She always spends most of her savings to give him the best and most expensive gifts. The irony struck her heart painfully. She had bought him this sanctuary, a place he could call his own, and yet she feared the happiness waiting inside might turn to heartbreak.
Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor as she entered the lobby. The concierge barely glanced at her, dismissing her in a haze of routine. She stepped into the elevator, her palms sweaty as it hummed upward.
I'm just nervous because it's his birthday, she whispered to herself. That's all.
The elevator chimed, and she stepped out onto the floor of Damon's apartment. She pressed her hand to the door, drawing a deep breath, then pushed it open.
Damon lounged in the living room, sprawled on a leather chair, a glass of wine catching the warm glow of the overhead lights. His dark eyes lifted at the sound of her footsteps, and for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
Relief washed over her.
"Elara…" He trailed off as she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Happy birthday, my love."
She perched on his lap, pressing kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, his forehead. "I'm sorry I'm late. Escaping Adrian's men was… harder than I thought."
At the mention of her husband, Damon's expression tightened. His jaw set, a brief storm flashing in his dark eyes, but he masked it quickly with a crooked smile.
"I didn't think you'd make it this year," he admitted, voice low. "Last year… you weren't here."
Damon sighed, lifting her face to meet his gaze. "You made it. That's enough."
Her heart ached at the bittersweet relief in his voice. Every risk, every stolen moment, every lie she had told her husband, had led to this one night. She cupped his cheek. "It's your birthday. No regrets. Just happiness."
He drained his glass and set it aside. "Happiness… it's hard to feel it lately. Adrian still holds all the power. My family's business is teetering. And I… I'm not strong enough yet to take you from him."
Elara's hands tightened around his. "Shh… don't think about him tonight. I have a gift for you."
Her lips curved into a mischievous smile as she slipped from his lap and headed toward the bedroom.
Damon's eyes narrowed. He moved swiftly, catching her wrist. "Where are you going?"
She blushed at his closeness. "Your surprise… is in your room."
His lips brushed her ear, warm and teasing. "What surprise?"
Her voice trembled. "The document… Adrian's contract. I stole it from his study."
Damon froze. That contract—the key to defeating Adrian, the tool that could finally free them—was now in her hands.
He let her go reluctantly. "Alright. Go."
Elara's chest swelled with quiet triumph as she pushed the bedroom door open.
And then her heart stopped.
Three women lay across the bed, barely dressed, the air thick with perfume and alcohol. A man lay sprawled among them. The sheets were tangled and stained, discarded wine bottles rolling across the floor. The room smell of something she knows but didn't want to believe.
Elara froze, tears welling in her eyes. No… no, this can't be real…
Her mind raced for excuses. Maybe they're just… asleep. Maybe it's not what it looks like…
But the evidence was undeniable. Lipstick on the pillows, tangled hair, the stench of alcohol—it told her everything.
"Elara… it's not what you think," Damon stammered, rushing forward. He reached for her hand.
She slapped it away, sobbing. "Don't touch me!"
Her chest felt like it was shattering. She turned and ran, fleeing the apartment, ignoring the skyscraper skyline glittering behind her.
"Elara—!" Damon called after her, voice cracking, but she didn't stop.
In the living room, she noticed the table. She saw four more wine glasses. Not two. Not just his.
The betrayal cut deeper than she had imagined. The man she had risked everything for—the man she had bought this apartment for—had celebrated with others while she had escaped guards and risked her life for him.
***
"Damn it!" Lucian cursed, raking his hand through his hair once she was gone. He spun toward the bedroom, shaking one of the unconscious men awake.
"Lucian, wake the hell up!"
Groaning, Lucian rubbed his eyes. "What is it now?"
"Elara was here. She saw… everything."
Lucian sat up slowly, smirking. "So? Tell me exactly what happened."
Damon paced the room. "She came with a gift. She said she had the contract document. But she found this mess instead."
Lucian arched a brow. "So you're panicking because your little lover is hurt? Or is it because you're losing the document?"
Damon stiffened. "Don't twist it. You know what that contract means. Without it, I can't touch Adrian. I can't—"
Lucian laughed softly as he heard and clicked his mouth "so you are worried about the document and not her" he sighed and said "poor thing" even though he didn't mean it.
"Relax," Lucian drawled, lying back on the pillows. "The documents are still here. Search for them. And as for Elara—just tell her those women were mine. She'll believe you. She always does."
Damon clenched his fists, his face a storm of frustration.
Meanwhile, Lucian yawned and closed his eyes again. "Now let me sleep. Birthdays should be fun, not dramatic."
But Damon couldn't shake the image of Elara's tears. Or the dread of what Adrian Blackwell would do if he discovered this betrayal.
Truthfully, he didn't care about Elara but he knew he is no match for Adrian Blackwell, and he will doomed if Adrian finds out he hurts her.