Chapter Twelve — “Cracks in the Mask”

The villa was quieter than ever. No chatter, no clinking glasses. Just silence.

Damian stood by the big window, arms crossed, stiff like he thought he could control the world outside by staring at it.

I should’ve known there’d be no peace after last night.

His voice cut through the silence, cold and low. “You weren’t ready.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You should’ve expected this,” he said, turning to me. His look was sharp, no mercy. “You didn’t handle the press well. You went out alone and let them take your picture.”

I wanted to speak, but nothing came out.

He stepped closer, voice dropping. “That was careless.”

I straightened up, voice sharp. “And you’re the expert? You think I wanted any of this?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m saying you need to be ready. If you can’t take this life, maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

My chest tightened. “This isn’t a game. It’s my life. My sister’s life.”

Damian didn’t look away. “Your problems don’t matter. Not past the contract.”

I stepped forward, matching his cold stare. “I’m not a business deal.”

He chuckled, dry. “You signed the contract.”

That word hit harder than any slap. “So you think that means I’m yours to control?”

“Control is needed.” His voice turned icy. “Helena’s already circling.”

My heart jumped. Helena—the poison.

“She’s spreading rumours. About Lily,” I whispered.

Damian’s phone buzzed. He glanced, then showed a message from Naomi.

A soft voice came from outside the door.

Naomi: “Are you protecting her too much?”

Damian replied, sharp: “I don’t protect weakness.”

Naomi sighed. “She’s not weak. She’s fragile. You can’t break her.”

His voice was cold. “Fragile doesn’t survive in my world.”

I felt punched.

How long had he thought like this? Seen me as fragile, not as a partner or person?

The front door slammed. Naomi entered, tablet in hand, face tight.

“The tabloids are all over it,” she said, scanning the screen. “Helena leaked rumours Lily’s a drug addict. Hospital staff whispering. It’s spreading fast.”

My stomach twisted. “Lily’s sick,” I said, voice cracking. “She needs help, not lies.”

Naomi looked sad. “That doesn’t matter. Press sells what sells.”

Damian stepped up, voice firm. “We stop this. No public appearances. No interviews.”

I nodded, lump in my throat, mind spinning.

This wasn’t just damage control.

This was war.

I needed answers. Had to know what I faced.

I faced Damian fully, voice shaking.

“Did you know?” I asked. “Before I signed. Before we met. About Ethan? What he did do to me?”

His eyes darkened, voice flat. “I did.”

The words hit me like a blow.

“You lied,” I spat, stepping closer. “You knew everything and still made me sign. Used me.”

His jaw clenched. No backing down.

“It wasn’t lying,” he said. “It was the strategy.”

“Strategy?” I laughed bitterly. “You don’t get to call this strategy—trapping someone in a contract while hiding the truth.”

He breathed, eyes cold. “I needed leverage. You needed protection. The contract was the only way.”

I shook my head, angry. “You don’t get to decide what I need.”

He stepped forward, voice low, harsh. “You needed me to keep you safe from Ethan. You just didn’t know it.”

Tears pricked, but I blinked them away.

“Safe?” I repeated. “By keeping me in the dark? Making me fight alone?”

Damian’s stare was ruthless. “You’re not a child. You signed because you wanted out. I gave you that.”

“No,” I said, voice cracking. “You gave me a cage and locked the door.”

He was quiet a moment, then said, “I made a deal to protect Kingsley’s name. You were part of it. But not the priority.”

His words cut deep.

“You were never more than a piece in my game.”

The air was thick with bitter truth.

I swallowed hard, voice shaking with rage and pain. “I’m done being your pawn.”

He stared, unreadable.

I turned, needing air, and space.

As I walked away, his last words whispered after me:

“Be careful, Ava. One more mistake and this contract means nothing but a lawsuit.”

—

The villa’s walls felt like they closed in.

I sat on the couch edge, shaking, heart pounding with every lie I’d swallowed.

Naomi sat quietly beside me.

“You’re not alone,” she said softly.

I wanted to believe her.

But then my phone buzzed again, another headline, another rumour.

I knew one thing for sure:

The cracks in the mask were growing.

And the war was just starting.

A notification pulled me from the moment.

A new headline lit up my phone:

“Kingsley Scandal Deepens: Drug Allegations Against Bride’s Sister.”