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chapter six
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2025-11-28 19:46:26Chapter Six
Unspoken Things The days following her discovery of Dante’s room passed like fog. Sienna kept her distance. Damien did the same. But something between them had shifted. Unspoken. Tense. Electric. He avoided her eyes now. Not like before—when he simply didn’t care to look at her. Now, it was different. He was afraid of what he might see if he did. Sienna wandered the garden early one morning, her hands brushing through lavender and overgrown roses, trying to clear her mind. That’s when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned. Damien. Of course. Hair slightly tousled, black shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up just enough to show the veins running down his forearms. Effortlessly cruel-looking. “I thought you didn’t do mornings,” she said, folding her arms. “I don’t.” His voice was clipped. Cold. Like always. But he didn’t walk away. Instead, he walked past her and stood beside the roses. “You’re watering them wrong.” She blinked. “Excuse me?” “They’re too drowned. The roots will rot.” “I didn’t know you cared about flowers.” “I don’t.” He reached down and brushed dirt from a petal, then added quietly, “They were Dante’s.” Sienna swallowed. “You miss him.” Damien didn’t answer. His eyes remained locked on the flowers like they were the only things keeping him from falling apart. She hesitated, then softly said, “Why did you tell me about the room?” “I didn’t,” he muttered. “You went looking.” “You could’ve stopped me.” “I should’ve.” Silence fell between them. Then—his voice again, low and unreadable. “Do you regret marrying me?” The question came out of nowhere. Her heart stalled. “Yes,” she said softly. “But not for the reasons you think.” That made him look at her. Finally. There was something raw in his expression. Something unguarded. He took a step toward her. She didn’t move. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he was debating whether to touch her. Then— “Damien!” Eleanor’s voice cut through the garden like a blade. He blinked, stepping back so fast it felt like a slap. “Your mother calls,” Sienna said coolly, turning away. She didn’t see the way he clenched his jaw. Or the way his eyes stayed on her, long after she was gone. --- Later that night… Sienna sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her hair out in front of the mirror. The bedroom was quiet. Too quiet. Then, a knock. She turned. “Come in.” Damien stepped in, eyes unreadable, a glass of something dark in his hand. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he muttered. “You didn’t.” He hesitated. Then walked to the balcony and stood there in silence. “I can’t sleep,” he said after a long pause. She watched him. “Why are you here, Damien?” He didn’t look at her. “I don’t know.” He took a long sip from the glass, then whispered something she barely heard. “…I keep dreaming she’s still here.” Sienna rose, slowly approaching. “Who?” He finally looked at her. “The girl I was supposed to marry.” Eleanor’s pawn. The one promised to him… until Dante fell in love with her first. Sienna didn’t speak. She just stood beside him, shoulder almost brushing his. “And you know the worst part?” he added, almost laughing. “I didn’t even like her. I didn’t want her. But the moment she chose Dante, it felt like something was ripped out of me. Not because I loved her… but because he won.” She understood then. Damien’s entire life was shaped by jealousy. Resentment. Loss. “You hate me because I remind you of your failures,” she said quietly. He didn’t answer. But he didn’t deny it either. She turned to walk away—but he caught her wrist. His grip wasn’t rough. Just tight enough to make her stop. “I don’t hate you, Sienna,” he whispered. When she turned, he was inches away. Their faces were too close. The night air too still. He stared at her lips, then her eyes. Then— He released her wrist. Just like that. Back to cold. “You should sleep,” he said, stepping back. “We have dinner with the board tomorrow. Don’t embarrass me.” The door shut behind him. And Sienna stood there, heart pounding, skin burning, lips untouched. But not unremembered. --- Somewhere else in the mansion… A phone buzzed. Eleanor Westwood answered. “Yes?” “She found Dante’s room,” the voice on the other end said. Eleanor’s expression didn’t change. “Keep an eye on her,” she replied. “And if she gets too close to the truth…” She stirred her tea. “…remind Damien why we never let maids become wives.”
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CRUEL OBSESSION 72
CHAPTER 72 — THE FIRST MOVE The warehouse felt alive. Not in the sense of warmth or comfort, but like a creature waiting for the right moment to strike. Concrete floors reflected the faint light from the skylights above, throwing long shadows that seemed to stretch toward Sienna with every step. She adjusted her stance, heels silent against the floor. Her fingers brushed the edge of her jacket—not because she planned to pull anything, but because the gesture anchored her. Damien stayed close, shadowing her, his presence heavy with unspoken protection. He didn’t need to speak. His eyes alone reminded her: You are not alone. But you are not untouchable. Across the room, Dante studied them both. Leaning casually against a steel beam, he looked every inch the predator: calm, composed, dangerous. But tonight, there was something else in his gaze—a spark that made Sienna’s pulse quicken with anticipation, not fear. Cassandra moved behind the monitors near the far wall, alert. Isabelle
CRUEL OBSESSION 71
CHAPTER 71 — COLLISION COURSE The next morning, the house felt heavier than usual. Not ominous in the supernatural sense—but like the air had been compressed, condensed by expectation, by the knowledge that everything would change today. Sienna sensed it the moment she stepped out of her room. Guards were tighter, eyes sharper. Damien moved differently—less relaxed, more like a panther coiled, ready to spring. And she matched him, consciously, because the second she faltered, Dante would notice. She met Damien in the breakfast room. The table was set, everything perfectly aligned as usual, but the tension made the air almost brittle. Even the silverware seemed like it might bite. “No one’s touching food,” Damien muttered. “Eat fast or don’t eat at all.” Sienna picked up a piece of toast and nibbled carefully, ignoring the tightness in her stomach. Her mind was already replaying last night—the controlled confrontation, Dante’s surprise, her own confidence radiating in a way she ha
CRUEL OBSESSION 70
CHAPTER 70 — THE MOMENT SHE STOPS ASKING The trap wasn’t baited with blood. That was the mistake everyone would’ve expected Damien Westwood to make. Instead, it was baited with access. Sienna didn’t learn that until she was already inside it. The room Damien chose was one of the oldest wings of the house—stone walls, high ceilings, no cameras except the ones he couldn’t admit existed. It smelled faintly of wood polish and something older, something like history refusing to fade. “You understand what this means,” Damien said, standing across from her. She nodded. “You give him a window.” “And in return,” he continued, “he tries to crawl through it.” Sienna clasped her hands behind her back, grounding herself. “I’m not walking in blind.” “No,” Damien agreed. “You’re walking in watched.” She almost smiled at that. They stood there for a moment—two people who had already crossed lines neither of them could name anymore. This wasn’t romance. This wasn’t fear. This was consent
CRUEL OBSESSION 69
⸻ CHAPTER 69 — WHAT POWER ASKS FOR The first rule Damien gave her was simple. Never assume you’re alone. Sienna learned it the hard way—by noticing the absence of sound. No footsteps. No murmurs from the guards outside her door. No soft hum of the house settling into itself. Just quiet. Thick. Intentional. She sat up in bed slowly, heart steady but alert. The lights were still on. The door was still locked. But something had shifted. She reached for the burner phone instinctively. No new messages. That didn’t mean anything. It meant everything. She stood, pulling on boots, movements deliberate. Fear made people sloppy. She refused to give Dante that satisfaction. When she opened the door, Damien was already there. “You felt it too,” he said. “Yes.” They didn’t explain it to each other. They didn’t need to. They walked side by side down the corridor, the house revealing itself inch by inch—corners intact, windows sealed, guards posted but tense. Everyone felt it. No
CRUEL OBSESSION 68
CHAPTER 68 — THE WEIGHT OF BEING SEEN Sienna realized something was wrong before anyone said a word. It wasn’t the guards—there were always guards. It wasn’t the locked doors—those had become routine. It was the attention. The way eyes followed her now, not with dismissal or irritation, but with calculation. She had crossed from tolerated presence to active variable. And everyone felt it. She moved through the hallway slowly, deliberately, refusing to rush even as her nerves buzzed beneath her skin. Rushing was weakness. Dante would smell it. The house would feel it. She reached the sitting room and stopped short. Charles Westwood was there. So was Reginald St. Claire. Her father. The sight of him hit her harder than any threat Dante could send. Reginald stood stiffly near the window, hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable in that familiar, distant way that had defined most of her childhood. He looked older than she remembered. Smaller. Or maybe she had si
CRUEL OBSESSION 67
CHAPTER 67 — THE SILENCE BEFORE HE STRIKES The phone didn’t ring again. That was worse. Sienna sat on the edge of the bed long after Damien left the room, the burner phone resting on the nightstand like a live thing—quiet, waiting, smug in its stillness. Dante didn’t need to say anything else. He had already said enough. I see you. I can reach you. I’m patient. She hated how calm that made him feel in her bones. The house shifted into lockdown mode without anyone needing to say the word. Doors were secured. Guards doubled. Routes were altered. Damien’s men moved like pieces on a board only he could see. Sienna watched it all from the margins, the way she always had. But this time, she wasn’t invisible. She was the reason. She went to Annabelle’s room just after midnight. Her mother slept peacefully, chest rising and falling beneath thin blankets, IV lines humming softly beside her. For a moment, Sienna allowed herself to imagine a future where this was all over—where Anna
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