Chapter 33: The Secret She Carried Home

The hospital corridor smelled like bleach and lilies. I clutched the tiny USB drive in my fist so hard the plastic edges dug into my palm. My mother’s words kept echoing: 'Watch it alone first.' I could still feel the weight of her hand in mine, the way her fingers had trembled when she pressed the drive into my palm.

I stepped into the elevator alone. The doors slid shut and I leaned against the mirrored wall, staring at my own reflection. Eyes red. Lips pressed tight. The woman looking back at me looked like she was one breath away from breaking.

'What the hell is on this thing?'

When I stepped outside, Damian was waiting exactly where he said he would be, leaning against the car, arms crossed, eyes scanning every face that left the building until they landed on me. The second he saw me he straightened, opening the passenger door before I even reached him.

I slid in without a word. He got behind the wheel, started the engine, but didn’t pull away. Instead he turned to me, one hand resting on the back of my seat.

“Talk to me,” he said quietly.

I stared at the USB drive in my lap. “She gave me this. Said there’s a hidden copy of the Vegas footage. Something even Marcus didn’t know about. She told me to watch it alone tonight.”

Damian’s jaw flexed. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel until the leather creaked. “And you’re going to watch it without me?”

I swallowed. “She made me promise.”

He didn’t argue. He just reached over, laced his fingers through mine, and pulled out into traffic. The drive back to the penthouse was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional swipe of the wipers against a light drizzle that had started falling. Every red light felt like it lasted an hour.

When we finally stepped inside, the penthouse was dark and quiet. Mia was already asleep.... Lila had texted that she’d tucked her in an hour ago. The only light came from the city glowing through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I set the USB on the kitchen island like it might explode. Damian poured two glasses of water and slid one toward me. He didn’t push. He just waited, watching me with that steady, intense look that always made my stomach flip.

“I’m scared,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “What if this changes everything? What if I watch it and I can’t look at you the same way again?”

He stepped around the island and pulled me into his arms. No rush, no heat this time. Just solid warmth. His hand stroked down my spine, slow and soothing, while the other cradled the back of my head.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” he murmured against my hair. “Whatever is on that drive, we face it together. But I’m not going to force you to watch it with me if you need to do this alone first.”

I pressed my face into his chest and breathed him in. For a long minute we just stood there, the city lights painting soft patterns across the floor. Then his hand slipped under my shirt, palm flat against my lower back, skin on skin. Not demanding. Just… there.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered.

“I know.”

He kissed the top of my head, then my temple, then the corner of my mouth. The kiss lingered, turning slow and deep, his tongue brushing mine like he was trying to taste every fear I couldn’t say out loud. I melted into it, fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer because right now his mouth was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathing harder, he rested his forehead against mine.

“Go watch it,” he said softly. “I’ll be right here when you’re ready to talk.”

I nodded, throat tight. I picked up the USB and walked down the hall to the small home office we barely used. The door clicked shut behind me. I plugged the drive into the laptop, heart hammering so loud I could hear it in my ears.

The file was labeled simply: VEGAS_ORIGINAL.

My finger hovered over the play button.

*What if this destroys us?*

I pressed play.

The footage was grainy but clear. The Vegas hotel suite. Me, laughing, tipsy, pulling a man whose face I still dreamed about into the room. Damian. Younger, sharper, eyes already dark with want. The camera caught every second: the way he pinned me against the wall, the way I moaned his name like I already belonged to him, the way he fucked me slow and deep on the bed, whispering things I couldn’t quite hear but felt in my bones.

Then the angle changed.

A second camera. Hidden.

It showed the exact moment Victoria stepped into the suite after we’d fallen asleep. She stood over us, phone in hand, taking photos. But it wasn’t just photos. She leaned down, brushed a strand of hair from Damian’s face, and whispered something.

The audio was faint, but I heard it.

“Sleep well, little brother. By morning you’ll never remember her… and she’ll never forget you.”

My stomach dropped.

Little brother.

Victoria wasn’t Damian’s half-sister.

She was his full sister.

And she had made sure that night in Vegas would destroy him before it even began.

I slammed the laptop shut, breathing hard, the USB drive burning in my hand like a live coal.

'Damian has a sister who tried to erase me from his memory.'

I stood up on shaky legs and walked back to the living room.

Damian was waiting exactly where I’d left him, eyes locked on me the second I stepped through the door.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

How the hell was I supposed to tell the man I loved that the woman who had been trying to ruin our lives for years was actually his own sister?