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Chapter 21 — The Collapse
The night had grown heavier, the ballroom dimming under softer lights as the orchestra played its final set. Laughter echoed from the far end of the hall, glasses clinked, and people began to drift toward the exits in slow waves of glitter and perfume.
Athena had remained near one of the tables, forcing a polite smile every time someone greeted her. But inside, her chest felt tight. The confrontation with Damon on the balcony had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
She could still feel the way he'd said her name — like it was something precious. And the look in his eyes… she had never seen him so uncertain, so almost human.
But it didn't change the past.
She was still the girl he'd once called a fool.
"Athena?" Clara's voice reached her faintly through the music. "Hey, are you okay?"
Athena opened her mouth to answer, but the words got lost somewhere between her throat and her lungs. Her vision wavered slightly. The chandelier lights above seemed to spin, and a strange wave of dizziness crept through her body.
She tried to breathe deeply, but it only made the pressure in her chest worse.
"Clara…" she whispered, her hand clutching the edge of the table. "I just… need a second."
Her friend's voice became distant. The room seemed to tilt, sounds blurring together into a soft hum.
And then, before she knew it, everything went black.
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Across the hall, Damon had just finished a brief conversation with one of the sponsors when he saw her. Or rather, saw the panic flicker across her face before she collapsed.
His heart stopped.
He didn't think — his body simply moved. He crossed the room in seconds, ignoring the startled gasps and murmurs from the crowd. He knelt beside her, gently lifting her into his arms.
"Athena," he called softly, his tone laced with worry. "Athena, can you hear me?"
Her head rested weakly against his shoulder, her skin pale, breath shallow.
"Make way!" Damon ordered sharply, his usual composure gone. "Someone get the medic!"
But even as the event staff scrambled, Damon knew he wouldn't leave her there — surrounded by curious eyes and cameras. He wrapped his coat around her and carried her out through the side exit, his jaw set, his every step careful.
Rain had begun to fall lightly outside, misting the air as he opened the door of his waiting car. He laid her gently across the seat, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.
"She's fine," he told himself quietly, even though his heart hammered like thunder. "She'll be fine."
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By the time they arrived at his penthouse, Athena had begun to stir faintly. Damon lifted her again, his movements precise but surprisingly gentle. The elevator ride felt endless — just the hum of the machinery and her faint breathing filling the silence.
When they reached his apartment, he laid her carefully on the couch and covered her with a soft blanket. For a moment, he just stood there, staring down at her — her face so calm, so breakable in that moment, it twisted something deep inside him.
He loosened his tie, running a hand through his hair. "You always have to test my control, don't you…" he muttered quietly, almost to himself.
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A while later, Athena stirred. Her lashes fluttered open, confusion clouding her eyes as she blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling.
She turned her head slowly — and saw him.
Damon stood a few feet away, jacket gone, shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked exhausted, but his eyes softened when they met hers.
"You're awake," he said quietly. "You fainted at the Gala."
Athena's mind spun for a moment, piecing everything together. "Where… where am I?"
"My place," he answered simply. "You needed rest, and I didn't want to leave you there in that chaos."
Her first instinct was to protest — to say something sharp — but the words caught in her throat. The look on his face stopped her.
There was no arrogance there. No coldness. Just concern.
She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I… I'm sorry. I must've—"
"You have nothing to apologize for," Damon interrupted softly. "You were overwhelmed. That happens."
Silence filled the room, gentle but charged.
Athena looked down at her hands, then back at him. "Thank you… for staying."
He smiled faintly — the smallest, realest smile she'd ever seen on him. "Always."
Her heart gave a traitorous flutter at the word. She looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn't notice the warmth rising in her cheeks.
But he did.
Damon's gaze lingered, and something unspoken passed between them — fragile, tentative, but real.
For the first time in a long time, Athena didn't feel angry. She just felt… seen.
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