Damian didn't sleep.
He sat beside Ariana all night, one hand holding hers, the other clenched tightly on the edge of the bed as if the wood were the only thing keeping him grounded. The moonlight leaked into the room like a silent witness, illuminating the faint tremble in Ariana's fingers each time her dreams turned violent.
Her breathing would quicken.
Her brows tightened.
And Damian's heart would twist.
Ever since the break-in and the blood-written warning on the mirror, something inside him had snapped. Something deep, ancestral, protective—violent.
He had nearly killed the guard who failed to secure the hallway.
But the investigation brought back the same name again and again:
Vanessa.
Vanessa, who had always envied Ariana.
Vanessa, who had threatened her in front of others.
Vanessa, whose handwriting matched the warning.
Too perfect.
Almost… too perfect.
By dawn, Ariana stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered, then her eyes opened—still a little glossy with sleep. She winced as she sat up.
Damian immediately leaned in.
"Easy… You're safe."
Ariana nodded slowly. "My head feels heavy."
"You didn't sleep properly," Damian said softly. "Nightmares again."
She looked away. "I dreamed someone was standing over me. I couldn't see the face, but the person kept whispering… 'You don't belong here.'"
Damian's jaw clenched. "You do. With me. Here."
Ariana exhaled shakily.
Damian wanted to pull her closer, bury her in his arms and hide her from every shadow—but he forced himself to stay composed.
"I have to ask," she said hesitantly. "Do you… believe it's Vanessa?"
Damian paused.
He had been asking himself the same question since the handwriting report came back.
"Something feels off," he admitted. "Vanessa has motive, yes. She hates you. She wants attention. But this—" he shook his head "—this feels staged. Too clean. Too convenient."
Ariana swallowed hard. "So someone wants us to suspect her."
"Exactly."
"And the real person is…" She didn't finish.
"Still out there." His voice darkened.
Ariana pulled the blanket tighter around herself. "Damian… I'm scared."
He didn't even hesitate. He sat beside her, wrapped an arm around her, and pulled her into his chest. Her head rested on his shoulder, and for a moment, the world outside the bedroom lost its claws.
"I won't let anything happen to you," he murmured into her hair. "Whoever is behind this… they'll regret breathing."
Ariana didn't reply, but her fingers curled weakly into his shirt.
She believed him.
She needed to.
Later that morning, Ariana insisted on taking a short walk around the estate—with four security guards around her. Damian didn't argue; in fact, he added two more.
The world looked normal and peaceful. Birds sang. The sun glowed softly. But Ariana felt eyes everywhere, even when no one was near.
She stopped near the garden fountain, letting her hand brush the cool marble.
"Damian," she whispered. "Everything feels strange. Even the guards… Even the staff. I feel like someone is always watching."
Damian stepped closer. "They are watching. Because I told them to." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "No one gets to you again."
Ariana nodded, but the tension didn't leave.
Just then, the head of security, Marcus, hurried toward them.
"We found something," he said urgently.
Damian stiffened. "What?"
Marcus held out a small plastic evidence bag. Inside was a tiny metal object—thin, sharp, almost like a needle.
"This was placed under Madam Ariana's pillow."
Ariana's breath caught.
Damian's eyes turned murderous. "A trap? Under her pillow? In my house?"
Marcus nodded grimly.
"We believe whoever planted it intended it to pierce her skin when she lay down."
Ariana's knees wobbled.
Damian caught her by the waist instantly. "Steady."
"Who could get into my room?" she whispered.
Damian's face hardened. "Only trusted staff… or someone who knows the estate's hidden access points."
Marcus cleared his throat. "Sir… there's more. Security cameras on the second-floor east hallway were tampered with last night."
"Tamp—" Damian stared at him. "You're telling me someone disabled the cameras, walked into my wife's room, and planted this?"
"Yes, sir."
Ariana felt her stomach twist with nausea.
Damian took the evidence bag, his expression unreadable. "Marcus. Lock down the entire estate. Nobody comes in or out without my command."
"Yes, sir."
"And bring Vanessa to me. Now."
Ariana blinked. "You think she—"
"She needs to answer questions," Damian said. "If she's innocent, good. If she's guilty—" his voice dropped to ice "—I will end her myself."
The interrogation room was dim, intentionally so. Vanessa sat with her arms crossed, her jaw tight with defiance.
"What now?" she snapped as Damian entered with Ariana beside him.
Damian didn't sit. He remained standing—looming.
"Ariana's room was tampered with again," he said. "A dangerous object was hidden under her pillow. Someone wants her hurt… Maybe worse."
Vanessa scoffed. "And you think it's me. Of course."
"Your handwriting was found on the mirror," Damian said sharply.
"It's not mine!"
"You threatened her publicly."
"Because she stole everything from me! But wanting someone gone from my life is different from trying to kill them!" Vanessa's voice cracked. "I'm not a murderer."
Damian watched her closely.
Too closely.
Ariana noticed.
He wasn't looking at her like she was innocent… or guilty.
He was studying her like a man comparing puzzle pieces.
"Where were you between 1 AM and 5 AM?" Damian asked.
"In my room. Sleeping. Ask anyone."
"Cameras show your hallway was empty."
"Because I didn't leave!"
Ariana suddenly spoke. "Vanessa… tell me honestly. Did anyone come near you last night? Anyone suspicious?"
Vanessa blinked rapidly.
Her eyes flickered—not with guilt, but with fear.
"Y-yes," she whispered. "I heard footsteps outside my door around 2 AM. I checked, but the hallway was dark. Someone ran before I could see them."
Damian's eyebrows lifted slightly.
Ariana gasped. "Why didn't you report it?"
"Because I figured it was just one of your guards!" Vanessa snapped. "What do you want from me? I didn't do any of this!"
Damian stepped closer, staring into her eyes.
And Ariana saw it.
His expression changed.
He believed her.
At least more than before.
Ariana tugged lightly at his sleeve. "Damian… let her go. If she's being framed, then keeping her here won't help."
Vanessa's eyes widened, surprised Ariana was defending her.
Damian hesitated for a long moment.
Then he exhaled. "Marcus. Let her return to her room. But put a guard on her door. If someone is framing her… they might target her next."
Vanessa swallowed hard. "Damian… you really think someone is trying to use me?"
"Yes," he said softly. "And they're doing a damn good job at it."
Hours later, Ariana sat alone in the study, flipping through old estate blueprints that Damian had ordered for security review.
Her eyes traced the thin gray lines. Rooms. Hallways. Hidden doors.
One particular sketch caught her attention:
Old servant passages—thin tunnels inside the walls, used decades ago.
She shivered.
Someone could move through those unseen.
A soft knock came. "Ariana?"
She looked up. Damian entered, closing the door behind him.
"You shouldn't be here alone," he murmured.
"I'm just reading," she said quietly.
Damian walked toward her, and the tension in his face softened when he saw her tired eyes. He knelt beside her chair.
"You're scared," he whispered.
Ariana didn't deny it.
"Come here." He gently pulled her onto his lap.
Her head rested on his shoulder, his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. She could hear his heartbeat—steady, strong, protective.
"Damian…" she whispered. "Why would someone want to frame Vanessa?"
"There are two possibilities," he said, voice low.
She lifted her head slightly.
"One," he continued, "the real enemy wants us distracted. They want us wasting time interrogating the wrong person while they get closer to you."
Ariana's hands tightened in his shirt.
"And two?"
Damian's gaze sharpened.
"Someone close to us knows Vanessa hates you. So they're using her emotions against her. They want us to suspect her because it's easy."
Ariana nodded slowly. "Someone who knows our history."
"Yes."
"Someone inside the house."
Damian didn't answer. He didn't need to.
The silence did.
That evening, rain started to fall. Gentle, steady, rhythmic.
Ariana sat by the large window in the bedroom, watching droplets race down the glass. She hugged her knees, trying to calm the uneasiness inside her chest.
Damian entered quietly, carrying a tray of food.
"You barely ate all day."
"I don't have an appetite."
"You need to eat anyway," he said softly.
Ariana took the plate, but her mind drifted.
"What if the person wants to hurt you too?" she asked suddenly. "What if this isn't just about me? What if—"
Damian set the tray aside, cupped her face, and forced her eyes to his.
"Listen to me." His voice vibrated with certainty. "They can try. But no one touches me. And no one touches you while I'm breathing."
Her lips parted, something warm and painful rising in her chest.
He brushed his thumb along her cheek.
"I don't care who's behind this. When I find them… I will burn their world down."
Ariana's throat tightened. "Damian…"
She didn't get to finish.
A deafening scream cut through the air.
A woman's scream.
Damian stood instantly. "That's from the north wing."
Ariana's heart jumped into her throat. "Vanessa!"
Security guards rushed from every direction as Damian and Ariana ran through the hallways. The rainstorm outside made the house feel colder, darker, more dangerous.
When they reached Vanessa's door, a guard was pounding on it.
"Miss Vanessa! Open the door!"
No response.
Damian shoved the guard aside. "Move."
He kicked the door open in one brutal motion.
The room was a mess—curtains torn, lamp shattered, furniture displaced.
But Vanessa was nowhere.
Ariana gasped. "She's gone!"
A guard stepped forward. "Sir, the window—"
They all turned.
The window was open, rain blowing into the room, the curtains soaked.
Damian walked to the edge, looked down, and saw muddy footprints on the balcony.
Someone had dragged Vanessa out.
Ariana clutched her chest. "Damian—whoever it is… they've taken her."
Damian's expression turned deadly. "No. They're not just after Vanessa."
He turned to Ariana.
"Ariana… this is a message."
Ariana trembled. "A message?"
Damian nodded, voice low and dark.
"Whoever is behind all this isn't trying to kill Vanessa. They're trying to show us what they can do. Anytime. Anywhere."
Her heartbeat sped up.
"Then… what do they want?"
Damian met her eyes.
And his answer sent a chill all the way down her spine.
"You."