The door to Damian's study closed behind her with a soft click that felt far too final.
For a moment, Ava stood in the hallway, the echo of his last words still going through her skull. You wouldn't survive the night..
She swallowed hard, her hand trembling as she reached for the wall to steady herself. The polished marble felt cold beneath her fingertips, grounding and cruelly real. The mask she'd worn all evening, the poise, the defiance crumbled as she turned and climbed the stairs.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
By the time she reached her room, her throat ached from holding everything in. The moment the door shut, she pressed her back against it and exhaled shakily.
Anger burned first. it was sharp, bright, consuming. He'd dismissed her again, silenced her with that calm authority he wielded like a weapon. He had stood there, looking at her like she was something fragile and foolish, while he, he was the one weaving secrets behind smooth lies.
But beneath the fury was something far worse.
That moment, when he'd brushed the hair from her face, when his eyes had softened, just for a second, it haunted her now. She hated that she could still feel him. The ghost of his voice. The heat of his nearness.
"Damn you," she whispered, pressing her palms against her eyes.
She moved to the mirror, catching her reflection under the dim lamplight. Her face looked pale, her lips trembling slightly. She barely recognized herself anymore.
Lily's name echoed in her head. What did you take? What did you get involved in?
And why was Damian Cross tangled up in all of it?
She paced for a while, the silence pressing down around her. Every instinct screamed at her to run , it the hell out of here, leave the mansion, disappear before he could twist her any further into his games. But she couldn't. She had been here for just a day and it was unbearable. he hadn't even given her the chance chance to leave and she didn't try to.
Not until she knew the truth.
When she finally lay down, exhaustion dragged her under, but sleep was a cruel thing. Her dreams were scattered fragments. Lily's laughter, a crowded party, a flash of a serpent emblem glinting under light. Then Damian's eyes, dark, unreadable closing around her like a cage.
She woke before dawn, gasping.
The room was drenched in gray light, and the chill from the window seeped through her bones. She sat there for a long moment, staring at the ceiling, before finally swinging her legs over the bed.
The mansion was quiet. Too quiet. Ava walked to the bathroom and took a shower. when she was done, she stood in the closet of the room staring at the new cloths, shoes and bags with jewellery that was there. the clothes and shoes were her size, how did he know her size. she scoffed. of course he did, the same way he found out who she really was. The clothes were high end designer clothes, but ava couldn't care less about that. she randomly picked what to wear, her mind trailing back to her apartment. she had left everything behind in there. not that she owned much any longer. she had sold most things that she had and used the money to help her search for Lily.
when she was done she stood before the mirror again. Her reflection was steadier this time. Controlled. If Damian wanted her to break, he would have to try harder.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
When she opened the door, a young lady stood there, smiling, immaculate. it was the same young lady that lead her to this room on her first day here. her name was Clara. she barely spoke a few words to her then. what did she want now.
"Well, good morning, Mrs. Cross-to-be," Clara said lightly, holding a cup of coffee in one manicured hand. "Or should I say... survivor of last night's circus?"
Ava blinked, shocked by her tone. they weren't acquainted in any way and they barely ever spoke to each other. Ava didn't even know her role in the house, so why was she speaking sarcastically to her.
"I was nearby. Thought I'd check in." Clara continued and stepped inside uninvited, setting the cup on the dresser before glancing around the room with thinly veiled curiosity. "Quite the arrangement you've found yourself in."
Ava crossed her arms, she had no idea who thos woman was and if she think she could intimidate her then she was mistaken. "What do you want?" ava responded in a cold voice.
Clara's lips curved faintly. "To help. Damian can be… difficult. I imagine living under the same roof hasn't been easy. especially when you are going to become his wife"
"I manage." ava spat back.
"I'm sure you do." Clara tilted her head, studying her. "But don't confuse surviving him for understanding him."
Ava frowned. "Is that a warning?"
"A friendly one," Clara said smoothly. "You're part of his life now, at least in public. That means you'll be pulled into things you don't understand yet. People you don't want to meet."
Ava's pulse quickened. "Like who?"
Clara smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Ask him. If he tells you, you'll know you matter."
The air shifted then, something sharp sliding beneath Clara's casual tone. Ava felt the hair rise on the back of her neck.
"Thank you for the coffee," Ava said stiffly, moving toward the door. "You can see yourself out." She had to be careful, anyone in the house would definitely be on Damien side not hers. she couldn't let them get in her head. her only goal was to find her sister and get the hell out of here.
Clara's laughter was low. "Oh, I like you." She said
"But do yourself a favor, don't mistake his protection for affection. Damian Cross only plays games he intends to win."
And with that, she was gone.
Ava stood there for a long moment after the door closed, her chest tight. The silence felt heavier now, the walls somehow closer. what the hell just happened? was she Damian's advocate or something. ava scoffed and shook her head. she walked over to where the cup of coffee was and stared at it in silence. it was black coffee, she hated black coffee.
She let out deep sigh and ran her hand through her hair.
By the time she made it downstairs for breakfast, the mansion was quiet.
"Good morning ma'am" A man dressed in a uniform which she assumed was probably the butler greeted and she nodded.
he pulled out a chair for her at the far end of the long dining table. her eyes trailed to Damian who was already seated, reading the morning paper, his sleeves rolled up, his posture perfectly at ease. he didn't even acknowledge her and acted like she wasn't there.
He looked up once when she sat down, his eyes sweeping over her briefly before returning to his paper.
"Morning," he said, like nothing had happened. so casually like he was unaffected by everything.
Ava clenched her jaw. "Morning." She replied, her mind trailing back to Clara. what kind of relationship did they have. she had thought Clara was one of the servants but she doubted that now.
She sat down opposite him, her hands curling around the edge of her chair. The smell of coffee and buttered toast filled the air, but her appetite was gone. she couldn't bring herself to take a single bite out of the appetising breakfast.
For a few minutes, silence reigned, and was broken only by the soft clink of his cutlery and the rustle of the newspaper.
Finally, she said, "You sleep well?" when she could no longer bear the silence.
His eyes flicked up. There was a faint, amused glint there. "You sound like you care."
"I don't," she said sharply.
"Good," he replied, folding the paper neatly. "That makes two of us."
Her temper flared. "You really think treating me like this will keep me quiet?" she spat out, everything alost reaching the brink for her. she was sick and tired of all the lies and vague response.
"I think it'll keep you alive." He reached for his coffee. "That's what matters."
Ava stared at him. "You really can't help yourself, can you? Everything has to be a riddle with you."
He didn't respond, but his gaze lingered on her longer than necessary, like he was searching for cracks in her armor and he soon found it.
The butler entered again, placing a small black box beside Damian's plate before excusing himself.
Ava's stomach twisted because she immediately had an inkling of what the box was.
"What's that?" she asked warily.
Damian set down his cup and pushed the box toward her. "Your ring."
Her heart thudded. "You're joking."
He didn't answer.
Ava stared at the velvet box like it might bite her. "After last night, you think I'd wear that?"
"You signed a contract," he said evenly. "This is part of it."
"I don't care. I'm not putting it on."
He leaned back in his chair, his tone still maddeningly calm. "You will."
"Why?" she snapped. "Because it makes your little performance look better? Because people need proof that your fiancée knows her place?"
His jaw tightened slightly. "Because someone will ask about it. And when they do, you'll smile and show them. You'll look the part, Ava, because the part keeps you safe."
She laughed bitterly. "Safe from what, Damian? From you?"
For a second, something flickered in his eyes something raw and unguarded, but it vanished as quickly as it came.
"Put it on," he said quietly, that calmness was still in his tone as he spoke. he slid the box towards her. his eyes on the box for a second before it trailed to her.
Ava stared at him, her pulse pounding in her throat. Then, slowly, she reached for the box and opened it.
The ring was exquisite, white gold and a diamond , simple but breathtaking, the kind of thing every woman dreamed of. But when she looked at it, all she saw was a chain.
She snapped the box shut. "No."
Damian's voice was soft but dangerous. "Ava."
"You can't keep forcing me into things I didn't agree to."
"You agreed to me."
The words hit her like a blow. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them thickened, humming with anger and something else. something unspoken, darker.
Then he stood. The chair scraped softly against the marble as he rounded the table. Ava stayed still as he stopped beside her.
He took the box from her hand, flipped it open, and held the ring between two fingers. "Give me your hand."
She hesitated.
"Don't make me ask twice."
Her pulse thundered. Slowly, she lifted her hand. He slid the ring onto her finger with deliberate precision, his touch firm but careful.
When it settled against her skin, cold and perfect, she felt her chest tighten.
"There," he murmured, looking down at her hand. "Now you look the part."
Ava jerked her hand away as she stood, fury flashing in her eyes. "You think this makes me yours?"
He looked at her then, really looked and for a fleeting second, something in his expression softened. Regret, maybe. Or desire. She couldn't tell.
"No," he said. "It makes you mine to protect. There's a difference."
Her breath caught.
But before she could respond, he turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the hall until the silence swallowed them whole.
Ava stood there, trembling, staring at the ring that glittered mockingly on her finger.
And for the first time, she wasn't sure if she hated him more for controlling her or for the way part of her wanted to understand him.