Emma's POV
By morning, I was done pretending.
Sleep hadn't come, not even for a second. Every sound in the mansion had kept me on edge, the whisper of the vents, the creak of floorboards, the hum of the fridge.
My thoughts were louder than all of them combined. She doesn't need to know everything.
Not yet. Those words haunted me.
By the time the sun rose, I'd decided I was going to confront Damian. No more guessing, no more fear. I wanted the truth, even if it shattered whatever fragile peace was left between us.
I found him in his office, seated behind his desk. He was typing something on his laptop, dressed in a charcoal suit, calm as always. When he looked up and saw me, a faint smile curved his lips.
"Morning," he said. "You didn't come down for breakfast."
"Wasn't hungry," I muttered. I stood near the doorway, fingers twisting together. "We need to talk."
His expression shifted, the easy calm dimmed just a fraction. "About what?"
"Jim." The word came out sharper than I intended. "And what you said last night."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me. "What exactly did I say?"
I crossed my arms. "Don't play dumb, Damian. I heard you. I was passing by your office and I heard you and Jim talking."
His jaw tightened slightly, though his tone stayed mild. "You were eavesdropping?"
"I wasn't….." I stopped, realizing how bad it sounded. "I wasn't trying to. I just…. I heard my name or close enough."
He sighed quietly and closed the laptop. "Emma, you shouldn't go snooping around private conversations."
I felt heat rush to my face. "So I was right. You were hiding something."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." I took a step forward. "You said I 'didn't need to know everything yet.' What does that mean, Damian? What don't I need to know?"
He rose slowly, his height making the space between us feel smaller. "It means you're overthinking things that don't concern you."
I blinked, stunned. "Don't concern me? You and your head of security were literally talking about me!"
"That's not what it was about."
"Then what was it about?"
He hesitated just long enough for my pulse to quicken.
"Business," he said finally. "Something confidential."
I laughed once, bitter. "Oh, of course. 'Business.' That's always the excuse."
His eyes hardened. "You're angry, and that's fine but I won't justify every private conversation I have under this roof. You live here, Emma, but that doesn't mean you get to listen at doors."
The words stung more than I wanted to admit. "I wasn't listening at the doors! I just….. I was worried. You've been acting strange. Jim too. And then there were those calls, that, that threat I heard from him the other night….."
He frowned. "What threat?"
"If you touch her, I'll kill you," I quoted, voice shaking. "He said that, Damian. Right in this house."
Something flickered in his eyes, too fast to read. Then his voice dropped, low and steady. "That wasn't about you."
My stomach knotted. "Then who was it about?"
"Someone else."
"Who?"
He looked away. "It's complicated."
"Try me," I snapped.
"Emma." He rubbed his temple, the faintest trace of irritation breaking through his calm. "You need to trust me when I tell you this has nothing to do with you. Jim was handling a situation, an old one and I told him to keep it contained."
"That's not an answer," I said quietly.
He met my gaze. "It's the only one you're getting."
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us was thick, heavy.
"So that's it?" I said finally. "You're just going to shut me out and expect me to smile like everything's fine?"
"I'm trying to protect you."
"By lying to me?"
He stepped closer, his voice tightening. "By keeping you safe. There's a difference."
My throat burned. "You sound just like him."
His brow furrowed. "Like who?"
"Jim," I said. "The way you talk, like I'm something that needs guarding, not someone who deserves to know what's going on in her own damn house."
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" I let out a sharp breath. "You don't tell me who you're arguing about, why your guard is threatening to kill someone, or why he said I 'shouldn't panic'— but yeah, sure, I'm the unfair one."
He froze. "You heard that too?"
I bit my lip, realizing I'd said too much.
His tone darkened. "Emma, how much exactly did you hear?"
"Enough to know you're lying," I said flatly.
He exhaled hard, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. "You're making this bigger than it is."
"Then tell me the truth!" I shouted. "Because right now, I don't even know if I'm safe here."
The words hung between us, raw and trembling.
He stepped closer again. "You are safe. The only person putting yourself in danger right now is you, by not trusting me."
"Trust works both ways, Damian!"
"I've given you no reason not to!"
"Really?" I took a step back, shaking my head. "You think disappearing for hours, whispering with Jim, locking doors I'm not allowed to open, and pretending I imagined the phone calls, that's supposed to make me trust you?"
His eyes flickered. "What phone calls?"
I hesitated, then said, "Someone's been calling me from an unknown number and not talking."
For a split second, something like worry crossed his face. Then it was gone.
"Why didn't you tell me that?"
"Because I knew you'd tell me not to panic," I said bitterly. "Like you always do."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Emma, I swear, if I thought for a second that you were in danger, I'd tell you."
"Then what are you protecting me from?"
He didn't answer. His silence said everything.
I laughed weakly, the sound catching in my throat. "That's what I thought."
He moved toward me again, but I stepped back.
"Don't," I said sharply.
His jaw tightened. "You're angry now, but when you calm down—"
"Don't tell me how I feel!" I snapped. "I've spent days feeling like I'm losing my mind in this place. I thought you were the only person I could trust, and now I don't even know if I should open my door when you knock."
His face softened then, a flash of something like regret in his eyes. "Emma…"
"No," I whispered. "Don't say my name like that. You can't comfort me and keep secrets from me at the same time. It doesn't work like that."
For a long time, he said nothing. Then, quietly, "You're right."
The admission stunned me.
He looked away, the mask slipping just slightly. "There are things I can't explain yet. Things that could put you in danger if you knew too much. But none of them have to do with you being threatened."
"Then prove it," I said. "Tell me what's going on."
He met my eyes, and for a moment I thought he might. But then his expression closed off again