I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Damien standing in the doorway—calm, certain, unshaken.
Like catching me hadn't surprised him at all.
Like he'd been waiting.
The thought crawled under my skin.
At dawn, I finally gave up and slipped out of bed. The house was quiet, but I no longer believed that meant empty.
I dressed carefully. Neutral colors. Nothing dramatic. If I was being watched, I wouldn't give them anything to read.
I stepped into the hallway just as a door across the wing opened.
A man in a dark suit froze mid-step.
We stared at each other.
Not staff.
Security.
He inclined his head slightly. "Mrs. Cross."
The title still felt wrong.
"How long have you worked here?" I asked casually.
"Three years."
"And how many cameras are in this house?"
His eyes flicked—just once—to the ceiling corner.
Then back to me.
"I don't have clearance to discuss that."
Interesting.
"So you do have clearance," I said lightly. "Just not permission."
His jaw tightened.
I smiled politely and walked past him.
Confirmation was all I needed.
Breakfast was already laid out.
Perfectly arranged. Untouched.
Damien stood by the windows, coffee in hand, scrolling through his tablet like last night never happened.
"You're up early," he said without turning.
"So are you."
"I never sleep much."
"I noticed."
I poured myself coffee and leaned against the counter.
"You test people," I said.
He glanced up slowly.
"In what way?"
"You leave traps," I continued. "You watch who takes the bait."
His eyes sharpened slightly.
"And what did you learn?" he asked.
"That you underestimate me."
A pause.
Then, very calmly—
"I underestimated your impatience," he corrected. "Not your intelligence."
I took a sip. "Then you shouldn't leave your office unlocked."
"It wasn't," he replied.
My stomach tightened.
"I let you in."
The casual way he said it chilled me.
"You wanted to see what I'd do," I said.
"Yes."
"And?"
He studied me.
"You didn't run," he said. "You didn't beg. You didn't try to bargain."
"So?"
"So you're dangerous."
Not said as an insult.
As an observation.
Something about that made my pulse spike.
"Careful," I said quietly. "Dangerous women don't like cages."
A faint smile tugged at his mouth.
"That's why I didn't build one," he replied. "I built a contract."
Later that morning, my phone buzzed.
A new message.
Unknown Number:
Stop digging if you value your father's life.
My blood ran cold.
I stared at the screen, rereading the words.
This wasn't Damien.
His threats were always spoken. Always direct.
This was quiet.
Hidden.
Cowardly.
I locked my phone and looked up—
Straight into Damien's eyes.
He was watching me.
Too closely.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Nothing," I lied.
He didn't believe me.
But he didn't press.
Instead, he said, "You're attending a charity luncheon this afternoon."
"I don't do charity."
"You do now."
"Why?"
"Because Helix Group will be there."
The name snapped my attention.
Helix.
My father's former business partner.
The one who testified against him.
My chest tightened.
"You want me seen with you," I said slowly.
"Yes."
"You want them nervous."
"Yes."
I smiled thinly. "Careful, Damien. Using me like that might backfire."
His gaze held mine.
"Everything does," he replied. "Eventually."
That afternoon, as the car pulled out of the driveway, I glanced back at the house.
At the cameras.
At the guards.
At the glass walls hiding too many secrets.
This wasn't just Damien's game.
Someone else was watching.
Someone who didn't want me asking questions.
And for the first time since signing that contract, I realized something clearly:
Marrying the devil hadn't put me in danger.
It had put me in the middle of a war.