“YOU MEAN NOTHING TO ME."

CHAPTER 7

The Lancaster penthouse was wrapped in silence, broken only by the distant rumble of thunder. Selene sat alone in the reading room, curled up on a velvet armchair with an open book resting in her lap.

Her eyes stared at the pages, but her mind refused to absorb the words. Images flashed through her head—Damien’s sudden kiss, the warning from the mysterious stranger, and that haunting photo he had clutched like a lifeline.

She sensed his presence before she heard him. Damien stood by the doorway, quiet and unmoving, watching her with unreadable eyes.

"You always watch me when I’m not looking," she said without turning. "It’s creepy."

Damien stepped forward, hands tucked into the pockets of his tailored trousers. "Then stop giving me a reason to watch."

"I don’t need to give you anything. Remember?" She turned a page she hadn’t read. "You already own me."

He came closer, his voice calm. "That’s the thing about ownership, Selene. Sometimes it comes with responsibility."

Selene laughed bitterly. "Don’t pretend you care. You bought me to destroy me."

Damien sat across from her, his tone cool but not cruel. "And yet... you’re still here."

"Because you gave me no choice."

"We always have a choice. You made yours."

A long silence stretched between them. The storm outside crept closer.

"What happened to you?" Selene asked quietly. "The Damien I knew wouldn’t do this."

His jaw tensed. "That Damien died the day you betrayed me."

Her gaze sharpened. "I never betrayed you. You just never gave me a chance to explain."

Damien leaned forward, his voice low. "Don’t lie to me. Not now."

Selene stood suddenly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. Damien rose as well.

"You want me to act like your perfect little wife," she snapped, "smile for the cameras, parade around your events. But you can’t even look me in the eye without flinching."

"Be careful, Selene."

"Why? Are you going to hurt me?"

He stared at her, torn, something fragile flickering in his eyes.

"No," he murmured. "That’s the problem. I don’t want to."

Their eyes locked. Something raw and unguarded passed between them—brief, but undeniable.

"Then why do you?" Her voice trembled.

He reached for her slowly, hesitated, then let his fingers brush her cheek—soft, fleeting. But as if the contact scorched him, he pulled back quickly.

"I don’t know anymore," he whispered, then turned and walked out, leaving her breathless and alone in the silence.

The next morning, the atmosphere at Lancaster Industries was crisp and calculated. Damien stood at the head of the boardroom table, flanked by high-ranking executives. The table gleamed under the overhead lights, as did the screen behind him displaying the company's soaring stock numbers—credit to the media frenzy surrounding his marriage.

One of the board members cleared his throat. "Mr. Lancaster, the media loves the story. The marriage is gold. But... we’ve received anonymous inquiries. People are digging into her background."

Damien’s jaw tightened. "Handle it. I don’t want any more leaks."

"Understood."

Later that day, Selene found an envelope pushed beneath her penthouse door. Plain. Unmarked.

She opened it with a mix of dread and curiosity.

Inside, one line in unfamiliar handwriting:

He’s not who you think he is. Watch your back.

Her hands trembled. She looked around quickly, half-expecting someone to be standing behind her. But there was no one. The penthouse was still and vast, its silence now menacing.

That night, she marched into the study with the note clutched tightly in her hand. Damien sat behind his desk, skimming documents. The lamp cast a warm glow over his face, but the expression he wore was anything but inviting.

“We need to talk.”

He didn’t even look up. “About?”

She placed the note in front of him.

“This was slipped under my door. Someone’s warning me about you.”

Damien picked it up, scanned the message, and went still. Something dark flickered in his eyes—anger? Fear? Regret?

“I’ll have security check the surveillance.”

“That’s it?” she snapped. “No denial? No explanation?”

“I don’t owe you one.”

“Maybe not. But if I’m in danger because of you, I deserve to know.”

He stood slowly, circling the desk until they were face to face.

“You’re not in danger.”

“Then why does it feel like I am?”

He leaned in, his voice low, calm, dangerous. “Because you’re looking for reasons to run.”

“Maybe I’m looking for reasons to stay.”

They stood inches apart, the air thick with tension. Damien’s hand reached up, almost instinctively, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered for a second too long.

“Be careful, Selene,” he said softly. “Curiosity can be dangerous.”

“So can secrets.”

Their gazes collided—fire and ice locked in a silent war.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured.

“So are you.”

His lips hovered near hers, the space between them almost nonexistent. But before the moment could break, he stepped back.

“Goodnight, Selene.”

She didn’t move, even as he walked away.

Her heart pounded against her ribs like a warning. And as he disappeared down the hallway, her whisper followed him into the dark.

“I don’t think I could hate you more than I already do.”

But her voice cracked.

And her eyes betrayed the truth: she wasn’t so sure anymore.The grand ballroom of the Astoria Hotel shimmered with opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the sea of designer gowns and tailored tuxedos. The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the hum of whispered gossip.

Selene stood at Damien's side, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She wore a deep emerald gown that hugged her figure, the color making her eyes appear even more striking. Despite her poised exterior, a storm brewed within her.

Damien leaned down, his lips close to her ear. "Smile," he murmured, his voice laced with command.

She forced a smile, her eyes scanning the room. Everywhere she looked, people stared, their gazes filled with curiosity and judgment.

A group of businessmen approached, their laughter loud and boisterous. One of them, a tall man with graying hair, smirked as he looked at Selene.

"Damien, you've outdone yourself," he said. "She's quite the catch. Though, I must admit, I didn't peg you for someone who'd fall for a gold digger."

Selene's smile faltered, but Damien remained impassive. He chuckled, taking a sip of his champagne.

"Well, we all have our weaknesses," he replied smoothly.

The group laughed, and Selene felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment and anger. She turned to Damien, her voice low.

"You're not going to defend me?"

He looked at her, his eyes cold. "Why? Is there something untrue about what they said?"

Her heart clenched. She stepped away from him, her gaze landing on a man across the room. He was handsome, with a warm smile and kind eyes. Without thinking, she made her way toward him.

"Care to dance?" she asked, her voice confident.

The man smiled, taking her hand. "I'd be honored."

As they danced, Selene laughed at his jokes, her eyes occasionally flicking toward Damien. He stood rigid, his jaw clenched, watching her every move.

After the dance, Damien approached, his eyes blazing. He grabbed Selene's arm, pulling her away from the crowd.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

She yanked her arm free. "Enjoying myself. Is that a crime?"

He stepped closer, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't play games with me, Selene."

She met his gaze, her eyes defiant. "Why? Afraid you might lose?"

In a swift motion, he pulled her into a secluded alcove, pressing her against the wall. Their faces were inches apart, the tension between them palpable.

"You drive me insane," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

"Then let me go," she challenged.

He leaned in, his lips brushing hers. For a moment, the world faded away, leaving only the two of them. But just as quickly, he pulled back, his eyes hardening.

"You mean nothing to me," he said coldly, turning and walking away.

Selene stood there, her heart pounding, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She had played with fire, and now she was the one getting burned.