Unexpected Visitor

Chapter 5: Unexpected Visitor

By midday, the cream dress felt like a brand against my skin.

I had tried to work sitting at my laptop answering emails for my part-time graphic design gigs but every time I moved, the soft fabric whispered against me, reminding me who had chosen it. Who had decided what I would wear today. The silk lingerie underneath made it worse. Every shift of my thighs brought a fresh wave of awareness.

My phone had been on silent, but the notifications kept piling up.

Alex: This is childish, Isla.

Alex: My dad? Seriously?

Bianca:You really know how to cause drama, don’t you? Alex is devastated.

I deleted them all.

A sharp knock rattled my door around two o’clock. My stomach dropped. I already knew who it was before I looked through the peephole.

Alex stood there, hair messy, eyes red-rimmed with anger and exhaustion. He looked like he hadn’t slept.

I opened the door but didn’t step aside. “What are you doing here?”

He pushed past me anyway, scanning my apartment like he expected to find evidence of a crime. His gaze landed on Damien’s jacket, still folded neatly on the chair.

“You actually stayed with him?” His voice cracked. “My fucking father, Isla?”

“He took me home after you let me drown,” I said quietly. “While you were busy saving Bianca.”

Alex flinched, but anger quickly swallowed the guilt. “It was a heart condition thing she could’ve died. You were fine. You always are.”

The words landed exactly where he intended. You always are.Reliable. Forgiving. Second place.

I crossed my arms. “Get out, Alex.”

He stepped closer, reaching for me. “We can fix this. Three years, baby. Don’t throw it away because of one mistake.”

The door opened again without a knock.

Damien walked in like the apartment had been waiting for him. Tailored suit immaculate, presence swallowing the small space instantly. He took in the scene with one slow glance Alex’s outstretched hand, my crossed arms then closed the door behind him with a quiet click.

Alex spun around. “This is between me and my girlfriend.”

Damien didn’t raise his voice. He simply moved to stand beside me, not touching, but positioned so that Alex had to look up to meet his eyes. “She told you to leave.”

Alex’s face twisted. “You’re really doing this? Going after my girl the second I turn my back?”

Damien’s expression stayed unreadable. “I pulled her out of the water while you chose someone else. Don’t rewrite the story to make yourself the victim.” The words landed flat, final, but delivered with the kind of calm that made resistance feel pointless. “She’s not yours anymore.”

I should have said something. Told them both to leave. Instead I stood there, heart hammering, caught between the man I had wasted three years on and the one who had already begun rewriting my sense of worth in less than twenty-four hours.

Alex looked at me, pleading now. “Isla… tell him to go. We can talk. Please.”

I met his eyes. Really looked at him. The boy who had always chosen comfort over courage. The one who made me feel safe but never *seen*.

“I don’t want to talk,” I said softly. “Not today.”

Silence stretched for two full beats. Damien didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. The quiet itself dismissed Alex more effectively than any words could have.

Alex stared at me for a long, painful second, then stormed out, slamming the door hard enough to make the walls shake.

The echo faded.

Damien turned toward me. His stormy gray eyes traced my face, then dropped briefly to the dress he had chosen. He studied me in that unhurried way, like he had all the time in the world to decide what came next.

“You kept it on,” he said at last.

I nodded, cheeks burning.

He stepped closer, still not touching. “I have another meeting. But tonight, I’m sending a car. Eight o’clock.” His voice stayed low, almost conversational. “I don’t care what you wear. I care what you think about all day.”

He glanced at his watch, then back at me. “I’ll be thinking about it too.”

Then he turned and left without another word.

The door clicked shut.

For a long moment the apartment stayed perfectly still. I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stood there, letting the silence settle over my skin like a second layer of fabric.

Only when the hum of the city outside finally filtered back in did my knees soften. I sank onto the couch, thighs pressed together, already counting down the hours.

This was dangerous.

And I was no longer sure I wanted to be saved.