Chapter 24 — “The Crack Between Us”

“Check your email.”

Click.

The call ended.

And for the first time in my life, I was truly afraid of what came next.

I stared at the phone like it could still burn me. My thumb hovered, then tapped into my inbox.

There it was.

No subject. No signature.

Just screenshots. Fake ones except they didn’t look fake. The layout was exact. The wording is professional. It was me… my email address… sending confidential board reports to an anonymous investor. Time-stamped. Watermarked.

I wanted to be sick.

My hands shook as I backed away from the screen like it might drag me under. She’d forged everything. Or bribed someone to do it. I didn’t know which was worse.

But Damian had seen these or ones just like them. That’s why he looked at me like that in the boardroom. Like a stranger. Like I didn’t belong.

Maybe I didn’t.

But I couldn’t do this alone.

Not tonight.

Not anymore.

I moved on instinct, out of the guest room, and down the hallway that still echoed with the absence of voices. The house felt cold. Every step was a test. My bare feet hit the floor like they were made of glass. I hated that I still looked for his shadow.

Damian’s door was open.

He stood inside, back to me, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled, tension in every line of his spine. A glass of something dark was in his hand, untouched.

“Don’t tell me you’re here to lie again,” he said without turning.

I didn’t flinch. “I’m not here to grovel either.”

Now he turned.

His eyes were colder than I remembered. Sharper. Like they’d been honed on disappointment.

He walked toward me slowly. “Then what are you here for?”

“To remind you that I didn’t do it.”

A beat of silence. Then…

“You expect me to believe that after everything?” His voice was low, tight. “After those emails, the board nearly pulled the deal.”

“I didn’t send them,” I said, forcing the words through the lump in my throat. “You know me better than this.”

“Do I?” he snapped. “Because right now, I’m looking at a woman who could cost me everything.”

“You already looked at me like that in the conference room,” I whispered. “You didn’t even hesitate.”

He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the flicker behind his expression. The part of him that wanted to believe me and the part that didn’t dare.

“If you lie to me again,” he said, voice low and lethal, “I won’t protect you.”

I blinked, then laughed.

A small, broken thing. “Good. Then sue me.”

His jaw tensed.

“I mean it,” I said. “You want to think the worst of me? Go ahead. You’ve got the contract, don’t you? Section 14B—breach of contract. If I walk, you win ten million.”

“Ava…”

“I’m not going to beg you to see me,” I cut in. “Not when you looked the other way the moment Helena lit a match.”

His mouth tightened, but he didn’t speak.

“I should’ve known,” I whispered. “This was never about trust. Just survival.”

I turned and walked straight past him. The air shifted behind me, but he didn’t reach for me. Didn’t follow.

Not yet.

I made it to the bedroom. Pulled the suitcase from under the bed. It wasn’t packed… not yet… but I opened drawers with robotic calm. Shirt. Toothbrush. Phone charger. The necklace Lily gave me.

I didn’t want to cry.

Not over him.

But the tears itched anyway, clawing up the back of my throat.

By the time I zipped the bag, he was in the doorway.

Watching me.

Silent.

“You know what hurts the most?” I said, without looking up. “It’s not the contract. Or the board. It’s that you were the one who sat beside me.”

His brow furrowed.

“In the rain,” I said, voice breaking. “When I could barely speak. When I was burning up and didn’t even know where I was—”

He exhaled, sharp and slow. “You were sick.”

“You still stayed.”

“I did what anyone would do.”

That stung.

Not because it was harsh, but because it was worse than that—it was indifferent.

I swallowed hard and pulled the suitcase upright. It wobbled on the wheels. I didn’t.

“I’m leaving.”

I stepped past him, every inch of me screaming to stop—to stay—to fight.

But pride wouldn’t let me.

I reached the front door.

My hand was on the knob when his voice came, low and firm.

“You go,” he said, “I burn your contract.”

I froze.

“You stay…” He walked toward me, not stopping until the distance vanished. “I protect your sister.”

I turned, breath shaky. “You can’t use Lily like that.”

“I’m not. I’m protecting her,” he said calmly. “Because someone’s still coming for her. And right now, you’re not strong enough to fight them alone.”

Silence thickened between us.

His eyes weren’t cold anymore.

Just tired.

“I didn’t betray you,” I whispered.

“I know.”

The words were quiet. Almost an apology.

Almost.

But they came too late.

Or maybe just late enough to make me stay.

I let go of the suitcase handle. Let it thud softly against the wall.

“I didn’t betray you,” I whispered again.

“I know,” he said.

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t soften.

Just stood there, unreadable.

“Then why did you act like I did?” My voice cracked. “Why did you let me believe you wouldn’t come?”

He didn’t answer.

And maybe that was the answer.

I turned away—but then I heard it.

A single word.

Spoken too low, almost under his breath.

“I can’t protect you from what’s coming.”

I froze.

My chest tightened. “What’s coming?”

Damian looked at me then—truly looked. The sharp, calculating mask had fallen. Something darker lingered underneath.

“She made sure of it,” he said.

“Who?”

But I already knew.

Helena.

Before I could speak, he stepped closer and said quietly…

“You’re not the only one she’s after.”

Then he walked away, leaving me in the doorway with my suitcase… and a feeling I hadn’t had in years.

Dread.

Cold. Inevitable. And crawling up my spine.