Elena Carter didn't return home looking for him.
She came back because she had nowhere else left to run.
The scandal in London had ruined her—professionally, socially, emotionally. She was a ghost of the woman who left this country ten years ago, full of fire and ambition. Now, she just wanted silence. A place to breathe. A place to disappear.
But home had other plans.
And so did he.
---
Her mother greeted her at the airport with tears and joy, but Elena barely heard a word. Her head was somewhere else—back in time. Back in the place where everything had once felt pure. Before she tore it apart.
By dinner, she was exhausted. She hadn't eaten, just moved food around her plate until her mother slid an envelope across the table.
> Welcome Home, Dr. Damien Reyes.
She froze.
His name was like a slap.
Damien.
It had been ten years since she saw him last. He had loved her once—too much, maybe. And she had left without looking back. She never replied to his last message. She didn't even say goodbye.
She'd had her reasons. But she doubted he'd care about them now.
> "He's hosting a small gathering this weekend," her mother said. "You should come. Just to be polite."
Elena said nothing.
Polite? Damien Reyes was many things—but polite would never be the word she'd use to describe him. Not anymore.
---
She went anyway.
Her curiosity was stronger than her fear. And perhaps… some part of her had always wanted to see him again.
Just not like this.
---
The party was private, expensive, and intimidating. Fairy lights twisted through black iron fences. Security stood at the gates, checking names. Elena gave hers, and was silently ushered in.
She almost didn't recognize him.
Damien stood near the bar, wearing a tailored black suit, his back to her. He was broader now, taller, sharper. A shadow of the boy she once knew—but only barely.
When he turned, she saw it.
The same eyes.
But colder.
His gaze found her instantly. Like he'd been waiting for her all night.
> "Elena."
Her name in his voice was dark silk—smooth, dangerous, and threaded with something she couldn't name.
> "Damien," she whispered.
He stepped toward her slowly, glass in hand, every inch of him confident, unreadable, powerful.
> "You came."
> "It's a small town," she said quietly. "I didn't have much of a choice."
> "There's always a choice," he said. Then paused. "Except when there isn't."
A flash of meaning passed between them, one that made her chest tighten.
> "You look... changed," he said. Not kindly. Not cruelly. Just… observing.
> "So do you."
> "Yes," he murmured. "But some things never change."
She took a slow breath. "Are we really going to play this game?"
His lips curved into a dangerous half-smile. "What if I told you I'm not playing?"
Something shifted in the air between them—heat, tension, the ghost of something once beautiful turned brittle and sharp.
> "Why did you come back, Elena?" he asked.
She raised her chin. "That's none of your business."
He stepped closer—close enough that she felt the heat radiating off his skin.
> "Everything about you used to be my business."
Her heart stuttered.
Damien leaned in, close enough to whisper:
> "Don't worry. I won't ask you to explain. Not yet."
> "Not yet?"
> "No," he said softly. "I prefer to take my time when breaking things."
She stared at him, stunned.
And he walked away.
Just like that.
Like he hadn't just shattered something inside her in ten seconds flat.
---