Chapter 5

When Damon woke, Eleanor was keeping watch beside him.

The slightest movement made his body feel like it was being torn apart.

"Damon, you're awake?"

Eleanor hurried to help him sit up and poured him a glass of water.

Damon didn't take it. He looked at her coldly.

"Why didn't you come in and save me? Do you have any idea..."

A flicker of pain crossed Eleanor's eyes and was gone in an instant.

"I know, Damon. I know. I've had Wade Briggs locked up. He's going to pay for this. Marcus feels terrible about it, too."

"Terrible?"

Damon's mouth twisted into a cold smile.

"Does he feel terrible, or does he feel pleased with himself?"

He groped around for his phone. When he found it, he dialed 911.

"I'm calling the police. I'm calling the police..."

"You can't call the police!"

Eleanor snatched his phone away and gripped his wrist.

"Do you want to ruin Marcus?

"I'll hold on to your phone for now. You'll get it back when treatment's over."

Damon tried to grab it, but Eleanor backed away to the door.

She looked at him, her tone softening.

"Damon, it was just one time. It's not like you've never..."

At the words "just one time," Damon's tears slowly fell.

Just one time?

What had been done to him meant so little to her that she could brush it off like that.

Eleanor sighed, looking weary.

"Damon, stop making a scene. As soon as treatment ends, we'll get married. No one will dare point fingers at you. Isn't that enough?"

Damon's heart, already in pieces, shattered completely in that moment.

He had believed that after all the years they'd loved each other, she would understand him.

It turned out she had never known what he wanted.

He lowered his eyes. "Fine. How much longer is the treatment?"

The moment he agreed, Eleanor's expression eased.

She stroked his face tenderly. "Damon, hold on for one more week. Just one more week."

Damon clenched his fists.

One week. If he could just survive one week, he could take Ruth and get out of here.

Marcus seemed rather surprised by Damon's cooperation.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a venomous gleam in his eyes behind the lenses.

"Damon, I designed this last treatment especially for you."

A sense of foreboding rose in Damon.

"I have one condition.

"Give me back my phone."

Once he had the phone, Damon's first call was to Ruth.

"Grandma, it's Damon.

"Grandma, take good care of yourself."

His second call went to Eleanor's sworn rival in business.

"I can help you take Eleanor down for good."

The voice on the other end gave a scornful laugh. "What do you want?"

Damon lowered his voice. "In one week, I want you to get my grandmother and me out of here."

A moment of silence.

"Deal."

That night, Damon sat on the swing in the yard, rocking back and forth.

Tomorrow they would take him away for treatment. He had no idea what was waiting for him.

But he knew it would be hard to survive.

The house blazed with light. It was Marcus's birthday, and Eleanor had invited a few friends over to celebrate.

Damon had spent his own birthday this year in that broken-down cellar.

No cake. No presents.

Only endless darkness.

"Damon? Why aren't you coming inside?"

Marcus had appeared behind him at some point, a glass of champagne in hand, smiling at him.

Damon remembered the first time he'd met Marcus.

Spotless white coat, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a smile that looked completely harmless.

Who would have guessed that beneath that pleasant exterior was a viper?

"Dr. Keane, doesn't all this wear you out?"

Marcus paused, then took a sip of champagne.

"Of course it does. But what can I do? Eleanor likes it."

He stepped behind Damon and lightly brushed his fingers along the back of Damon's neck.

"Sometimes there's only a thin line between an angel and a demon."

Damon couldn't stop a shiver.

"What exactly do you want?"

Marcus drained his champagne and leaned down close.

"Fame. Status. Power. Money! Is that so hard to guess?"

Damon turned his head, saw the madness in Marcus's eyes, and shook his head, baffled.

"Those aren't things you can steal or con your way into. If you do, you'll lose them sooner or later."

"What do you know?"

Marcus's voice suddenly rose.

"I worked so hard abroad—studying, researching, writing papers. And what did I get for it?"

He was a little drunk now, his gaze unfocused.

"Success comes at a price. And the price is your conscience."

Damon shot to his feet. "Aren't you afraid Eleanor will see who you really are someday?"

Marcus burst out laughing and stumbled.

"Afraid? I'm not afraid of anything. Because—"

He paused. "She's pregnant with my child."

Damon froze where he stood.

"What are you two talking about?"

Eleanor stood on the steps, watching them.

Damon walked over and looked at her earnestly.

"Congratulations, Eleanor."