The morning after the storm didn't bring peace.
Sunlight filtered through Elena's window, casting golden beams across tangled sheets and a body that hadn't rested. Her eyes were open, unfocused, staring at the ceiling as if it could offer answers to the turmoil inside her.
She hadn't slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, Damien's voice echoed in her ears. The confessions. The desperation. The truth she wasn't ready to face. And Lucien's shadow lingered in the back of her mind, his warning a dagger pressed against her spine.
She rose slowly, her limbs aching with fatigue and emotional weight. Downstairs, silence blanketed the house. Too silent. Like the breath before a scream.
Elena made her way to the sitting room, only to find Damien already there, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows. His back was to her, but she knew he had heard her the second she entered.
"You didn't come to bed," she said softly.
He turned, eyes dark and rimmed with exhaustion. "Neither did you."
A beat passed.
"We need to talk," she said.
"We always need to talk," he replied, voice bitter. "But nothing ever changes."
She crossed her arms. "Because you keep deciding what I should know, what I should feel."
He stepped toward her. "And what would you have me do, Elena? Tell you everything and watch you run straight into danger? You think I want to control you, but I'm trying to protect you!"
"From what? From your brother? From the secrets you won't even tell me?"
"From everything!" Damien shouted. "From the way this world will tear you apart if you don't understand what you're walking into. From Lucien. From me."
She flinched. And that flinch, so small, so involuntary, gutted him.
He sank onto the couch, hands raking through his hair. "You think I enjoy this? You think it doesn't kill me to see the way you look at me now? Like I'm just another enemy waiting to betray you."
Elena remained standing. "I don't know what you are anymore."
Silence fell again. And then, quietly:
"Neither do I."
They stayed that way for what felt like hours—her upright and armored, him seated and defeated.
Finally, she spoke. "You said you wanted my trust. My loyalty. My love. How can I give you any of that if I can't even get the truth from you?"
Damien looked up, pain naked in his gaze. "If I tell you everything... you won't look at me the same."
"Try me."
He swallowed hard. Then he stood.
"Lucien and I weren't just born into power. We were bred for it. Trained. Broken and rebuilt in our father's image. You think Lucien's twisted now? You should have seen us then. We were monsters in training suits."
Her breath caught.
"Our father ruled through fear. Pain. Loyalty was currency. I was the golden boy. Lucien was the shadow. And we both learned to survive the only way we knew how."
He walked to the window, as if watching the world go by could somehow lessen the weight of the memories.
"But then you happened."
Elena blinked. "Me?"
"You changed everything. I didn't want to be that version of me anymore. I wanted something good. Something real. And Lucien... he saw it. Saw how you made me weak. And he hated you for it."
He turned back to her.
"That night... the night I left you bleeding... it wasn't just about punishment. It was protection. Lucien had found out. He was going to hurt you to get to me. I thought if I broke your heart, he'd lose interest."
Tears stung Elena's eyes. "You destroyed me."
"I destroyed myself too," he whispered.
They stood in the ruins of their past, broken pieces all around, unsure what could be salvaged.
Suddenly, a knock rattled the front door.
Elena startled. Damien immediately went on alert.
Another knock. Harder. More urgent.
He opened the door to find a courier, eyes wide and breathing heavily. "This just arrived. Hand-delivered. No return address. Said it was for the bride."
Damien took the envelope and shut the door. The second he saw the wax seal, he cursed.
Elena stepped closer. "What is it?"
"Lucien."
He handed her the envelope. Her hands trembled as she broke the seal.
Inside was a photo.
Of her.
Sleeping.
The date was yesterday.
Her blood ran cold. Beneath it was a note:
\*\*"You look beautiful when you're most vulnerable. Soon, I'll see you like that again. But this time, you'll be awake."
* L\*\*
Damien's jaw locked. Elena dropped the photo.
"He was in the house," she whispered.
"He's escalating."
"Why now?"
Damien picked up the photo. "Because he knows the wedding is more than an alliance. He knows what you mean to me."
Elena backed away. "I can't do this. This is too much. I didn't sign up for this."
He grabbed her arm gently. "Elena, please."
"No! You promised to protect me, Damien. But you can't even stop him from getting into our home."
"I will fix this. I swear it."
"How? By shutting me out again? By lying to me until he finally does something we can't take back?"
Her voice cracked. She was unraveling.
Damien stepped closer. "Then fight with me. Don't walk away now. Not when we're this close."
She looked at him, and for a moment, all the anger in her cracked open.
"Do you still love me?" she asked.
His answer came without hesitation. "More than anything."
"Then show me."
He pulled her into his arms, held her like the world was ending.
But even as they clung to each other, a truth hung heavy in the air:
This wasn't the end.
This was the breaking point.
And what came next would shatter everything.
---
Elena woke the next morning in Damien's arms, safe but shaken. The memory of the photo haunted her, a taunting reminder that safety was an illusion. Damien stirred beside her, already alert before he opened his eyes.
"Any word from your security team?" she asked.
He nodded. "They found a footprint outside your window. Size matches Lucien's. He wanted us to know he was there."
"Why leave the photo at the front door?"
Damien's face hardened. "Because he wants to play with our fear."
They had breakfast in silence, a rare calm before what came next. Damien received a message mid-meal and excused himself. When he returned, his face was unreadable.
"We're going to the estate. My father left something behind. Something Lucien may be after."
Elena froze. "The family estate? You haven't been back there in years."
"Exactly why it's time."
They took Damien's private jet that evening. The estate loomed ahead, a gothic sprawl of dark stone, gargoyles, and secrets that had never been laid to rest. Inside, dust clung to the walls like memories that refused to fade.
Elena wandered through the halls while Damien consulted with his team. In one room, she found portraits—one of Damien as a child, standing beside Lucien. The contrast was chilling. Even as boys, one held fire in his eyes, the other ice.
"You shouldn't be here alone."
She turned. Damien stood in the doorway, tense.
"This place is... haunted," she whispered.
"By more than just ghosts. Come. There's something you need to see."
He led her to a hidden chamber beneath the study. There, under lock and code, was a vault. Inside: documents, tapes, photos—evidence of the family's dealings. Blackmail material. Records of power plays.
And a single folder with her name.
Elena opened it slowly.
Inside were surveillance photos from years ago. Of her. Her family. Even her school.
Her knees buckled. Damien caught her.
"Lucien knew about you before I did. He picked you for me, Elena. You were part of his plan. But I fell for you. And that ruined everything."
She looked at him with horror. "I was bait."
"Not to me. Never to me."
The truth slammed into her like a tidal wave.
This was the breaking point.
Not the photo. Not the secrets.
The realization that her entire life had been manipulated. That love had grown in soil laced with poison.
She pushed away from him.
"I need air."
She fled the chamber, up through the halls, out into the cold night. She ran until the wind cut her breath and her legs gave out.
Damien found her minutes later.
"Elena—"
"Don't. Just... don't."
They stood under the stars, the past rising like ghosts between them.
And neither knew if they could survive what came next.