Ch 10

Julian’s face flushed a deep, ugly crimson as Damon’s words hung in the air, sharp and suffocating. His jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his cheeks quivered. Never in his life had anyone dared to speak to him with such icy contempt, let alone in front of his own house, standing beside his own wife.

"How dare you..." Julian spat, taking a step forward with his fists balled at his sides. "You don't know a damn thing about us! Clara is my wife! We’ve been married for five years!"

"And you spent those five years slowly suffocating her," Damon replied, his voice terrifyingly calm. He didn't even bother to raise his fists. His mere posture, the sheer aura of absolute authority radiating from his tall, tailored frame, rendered Julian’s aggression look like the desperate tantrums of a child. "You took her devotion and treated it as a burden. You looked at her quiet grace and called it boring."

"Shut up! Just shut the hell up!" Julian roared, shifting his furious glare toward Clara. "Is this why you ran away, Clara?! You had this wealthy bastard waiting in the wings?! Were you playing the innocent victim while secretly creeping behind my back?!"

The accusation was so absurd, so profoundly venomous, that Clara felt a cold numbness wash over her. The hurt that had been tearing through her chest just moments ago suddenly solidified into an impenetrable wall of detachment. She looked at Julian—at the reddened face, the vein bulging on his forehead, the pathetic desperation to shift the blame—and realized she was looking at a complete stranger.

"I didn't have anyone, Julian," Clara said, her voice surprisingly steady, though quiet. "I was at home, waiting for a husband who refused to look at me. I was wearing a dress I bought just to feel wanted, while you were telling me I made you sick."

"Clara, I was angry—"

"No, Julian. You were honest," Clara interrupted, taking a small step back from him. "You finally said out loud what you’ve been showing me for months. And today, when I went to your office to apologize for even daring to ask for your affection, I saw where your heart actually was."

Julian flinched, the memory of her catching him with Vivian flashing behind his eyes. A flicker of panic finally crossed his features as he realized the usual emotional manipulation wasn't working. "Clara, listen to me. Vivian means nothing. It was just a stupid mistake, a moment of weakness because I was stressed about the company! We can fix this. You just need to come inside, and we can talk like adults!"

He reached out, his hand darting forward to grab Clara’s wrist, desperate to pull her back into his sphere of control.

Before his fingers could even graze her skin, Damon moved.

With a swift, fluid motion, Damon caught Julian’s wrist in mid-air. His grip was an iron vise, tightening instantly until Julian let out a sharp gasp of pain, his knees buckling slightly under the sudden pressure.

"Touch her again," Damon whispered, leaning down so his dark eyes were mere inches from Julian’s pale face, "and I will personally ensure you never use that hand again."

"Damon, stop," Clara murmured softly.

Damon didn't break eye contact with Julian for another agonizing second, letting the threat sink deep into the man's core before he casually shoved Julian away. Julian stumbled backward, clutching his bruised wrist, his breathing ragged and shallow.

Clara looked down at her right hand. The gold wedding band felt impossibly heavy, like a hot iron burning into her skin. Slowly, deliberately, she reached over with her left hand and slid the ring off her finger.

Julian’s eyes widened in horror. "Clara... what are you doing?"

Without a word, Clara let the ring fall. It hit the concrete porch with a crisp, hollow metallic chime, bouncing once before rolling to a stop right at Julian’s leather shoes.

"It's over, Julian," Clara said, her eyes completely devoid of the warmth that had once sustained their home. "I am done begging for your love. I am done apologizing for existing."

"Clara, no! You can't just leave!" Julian yelled, stepping forward again, but the looming presence of Damon blocked his path like an unyielding shadow. "Where are you going to go?! You have nothing without me! You hear me?! Nothing!"

Clara didn't answer. She turned her back on him, her head held high despite the quiet storm raging inside her soul.

Damon placed a warm, protective hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently down the steps toward the waiting luxury sedan. He opened the rear door for her, ensuring she was safely seated inside before turning back to glance at Julian one last time.

Julian stood frozen on the porch, staring at the ring by his feet, his chest heaving, a toxic mixture of humiliation, fury, and an unsettling dread settling over him.

"Enjoy your freedom, Vance," Damon said smoothly, his lips curving into a dark, predatory smile. "Because starting tomorrow, you won't even have a company left to stress over."

Before Julian could process the ominous warning, Damon stepped into the car and closed the heavy door. The dark-tinted windows sealed them away in absolute silence as the sedan smoothly accelerated down the driveway, leaving the house—and Clara’s ruined past—fading into the rear-view mirror.

Inside the quiet cabin, the adrenaline that had sustained Clara finally ebbed away, leaving her trembling violently. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as silent, heavy sobs finally broke through her composure.

Damon didn't offer empty words of comfort. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping his heavy jacket around her trembling frame and drawing her firmly against his chest. He held her close, feeling the dampness of her tears soaking through his shirt, his chin resting against the crown of her head.

"Cry all you need, my sweet Clara," Damon murmured, his voice a dark, velvet whisper that echoed with dangerous devotion. "Mourn the life you lost today. But when you are finished, remember... you belong to a man who will never let you shed another tear."