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chapter twelve
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2025-12-11 11:00:00Chapter Twelve
The days blurred together, a mixture of tension and fleeting moments of clarity. Sienna spent most of her time trying to navigate the maze of Damien’s cold indifference and the stifling atmosphere of the mansion. The deeper she dug into the secrets surrounding her, the further she felt herself sinking into a web of lies and deception. It was as if the walls of the mansion were closing in on her, pressing down on her chest until she could hardly breathe. But no matter how much she tried to fight it, the pull of the family—of Damien—kept her tethered to this place. She had started to notice subtle changes in Damien, though. He was still distant, still wrapped up in his own world of cold detachment, but there were moments—brief, fleeting moments—where his gaze softened, where his words held more weight than usual. It was on one of those moments that she found herself walking down the long, dimly lit hallway, her
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CRUEL OBSESSION 45
CHAPTER 45 — WHAT SILENCE SOUNDS LIKE Damien did not follow her. That was the first thing he noticed after she left. The door closed softly behind Sienna, the sound barely audible, yet it echoed through the dining room with an uncomfortable finality. Chairs shifted. Silverware clinked. Someone cleared their throat. Life resumed. And that, more than anything, unsettled him. Damien remained seated at the head of the table, hands resting flat against the polished wood, posture rigid. His expression did not change. It never did—not when Vanessa smiled that thin, knowing smile, not when his mother reached for her tea as though nothing remarkable had happened, not when his father resumed speaking about logistics and appearances. But inside him, something had gone very still. He hadn’t defended her. The thought came uninvited, sharp and unwelcome. He told himself it wasn’t that simple. That reacting would have escalated things. That silence was control. That keeping the peace—his p
CRUEL OBSESSION 44
CHAPTER 44 — THE TABLE WITH TOO MANY EYES Morning came without mercy. Sienna knew it the moment she opened her eyes—not because of sunlight, but because of the weight. That familiar heaviness pressing against her chest, reminding her exactly where she was and whose house she was in. The Westwood mansion did not wake gently. It woke with quiet authority. She lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sounds of movement—doors opening, footsteps in the hall, the low murmur of voices somewhere downstairs. The night before clung to her like a ghost, not loud or dramatic, but present. Heavy. Intimate. Unresolved. Damien had already left. She’d known he would. There was no note. No message. No quiet goodbye. Just the unmistakable emptiness beside her and the faint impression of warmth long gone. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or hurt by that. Probably both. After dressing carefully—choosing something modest, controlled, safe—Sienna made her way
CRUEL OBSESSION 43
CHAPTER 43 — THE THINGS WE DON’T NAME The room didn’t feel like a bedroom anymore. It felt like a threshold. The kind you crossed once and never fully came back from. Sienna sat beside Damien on the edge of the bed, her fingers still loosely curled into the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would make everything collapse. The mattress dipped slightly beneath their combined weight, grounding her in the reality of the moment, but her thoughts floated somewhere far less steady. Her breathing was uneven. Not panicked. Just… overwhelmed. Damien noticed everything. He always did. The way her shoulders tensed, the way her thumb brushed nervously against his chest, the way her gaze kept dropping and lifting again as if she wasn’t sure where she was allowed to look. He turned slightly toward her, not touching her this time. Giving her space. That alone made her chest ache. “You’re thinking again,” he said quietly. She huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I never stop.”
CRUEL OBSESSION 42
CHAPTER 42 — WHAT LINGERS IN THE DARK The room felt different now. Not quieter—because the silence had always been there—but heavier, thicker, as though the air itself had learned to hold secrets. The candlelight no longer merely flickered along the walls; it clung, stretching shadows across the ceiling, softening the edges of reality. Everything felt suspended, balanced on the fragile edge between restraint and surrender. Sienna was acutely aware of Damien’s hands on her waist. Not moving. Not tightening. Just there. The stillness of it made her breath shallow. She had expected urgency—heat, impatience, a rush forward—but instead, Damien stood with his forehead resting lightly against hers, as though he were grounding himself. As though this moment required control more than hunger. Her heart thudded violently against her ribs. Neither of them spoke. The silence stretched, taut and electric, filled with the sound of their breathing—hers uneven and unsteady, his slow but st
CRUEL OBSESSION 41
CHAPTER 41 — BETWEEN THE SHADOWS The mansion had settled into silence, a thick, almost tangible quiet that pressed against the walls and pooled in every corner of the dimly lit hallways. Only the faint hum of the city outside and the occasional creak of floorboards reminded Sienna that the world beyond the Westwood estate still existed. In her room, shadows danced across the walls, flickering in time with the candles that lined the mantle and casting a golden glow over the plush carpet. The air smelled faintly of wax and polished wood, but beneath it lingered something else—something warmer, richer, something that made her pulse skip in anticipation. Sienna perched on the edge of her bed, hands clutching the hem of her silk nightgown as if it could anchor her to some sense of composure. Her bare feet brushed against the cool wood floor with restless rhythm. She had tried to focus on her breathing, counting slowly to ten over and over, but each inhale brought with it the memory of Da
CRUEL OBSESSION 40
CHAPTER 40 — NIGHT OF UNRAVELING The mansion was quiet, but not empty. Shadows stretched long across the walls, cast by flickering candlelight that lined the hallways, and the faint hum of the city outside was just barely audible through the thick glass windows. Sienna’s room, at the far end of the upper floor, felt like a sanctuary and a trap all at once. She stood by the window, arms folded across her chest, staring out at the sprawling Westwood gardens bathed in silver moonlight. The cool breeze slipped in through the slightly open window, brushing against her bare shoulders, and she shivered, both from the chill and from the storm of thoughts in her mind. Her fingers traced the edge of the windowsill over and over, a nervous rhythm she didn’t notice until she realized her heart was pounding painfully fast. Every moment since the dinner—every cold glance, every whispered insult from Damien’s family—had been weighing on her chest like a stone. And yet, underneath that frustration,
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