Chapter 4: Checkmate

Elena’s POV

I cleared the chat. No paper trail, no drama.

But a second later, a message from an unlisted number flashed across my screen. Damon. Again.

“Just got that loser off your back. What’s in it for me?”

I didn't bite. I put the phone down, but he wasn't done.

“Fine. I get it. I don’t do charity. Guess I’ll just send him back home to you then.”

I let out a frustrated sigh and finally gave in. “What do you want, Damon?”

“I’m trashed. Come get me.”

“Fine. But on one condition.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.”

The address was a high-end private club downtown. The kind of place where billionaires go to hide their worst impulses.

Damon’s shadow, Marcus, was already waiting for me at the curb. He didn't say much, just nodded and led me inside.

“He’s upstairs,” Marcus said, opening the door to a private suite before disappearing.

Damon was sprawled on a leather sofa, looking like a god and a disaster all at once. His tie was loose, his eyes were a little glassy from the drink, and he had this dangerous, messy energy that made my heart skip a beat—mostly out of pure nerves.

He saw me and gestured for me to come closer, a shark-like grin spreading across his face.

“Took you long enough.”

I didn't even have a chance to answer. Before I could blink, he’d grabbed my wrist and yanked me straight onto his lap. I landed hard against his chest, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp huff.

“Damon, knock it off…”

“Shh.”

He pressed a finger to my lips, his eyes burning with a mix of tequila and something much darker. I froze. I could feel his heart hammering against my back, steady and strong.

“Listen,” he whispered, leaning in so close his breath hit my ear.

He pointed at a heavy velvet curtain separating our suite from the next. We couldn't see them, but the acoustics were perfect. We could hear every single word.

A door slammed in the room next door, followed by a high-pitched, whiny giggle that made my stomach turn.

“Babe! You’re totally wasted!”

Candy. Which meant Julian was right there with her.

“I’m just… having a good night,” Julian slurred. He sounded like he was floating. Damon had obviously fed him some dream about the IPO to get him in a partying mood.

“Come on, let’s go back to my place,” the girl cooed.

“Yeah… let’s go. But I gotta call Elena first. She’s probably waiting up like she always does…”

Damon’s arm tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Imagine his face,” he murmured against my skin, “if he knew his 'loyal wife' was right here, watching his world burn with me.”

I didn't move. I let my hair fall over my face, hiding the coldness in my eyes. The room was dark, but the heat coming off Damon was intense. He was possessive, almost feral, like he was just waiting for the right moment to snap the final thread between me and Julian.

Behind the curtain, Candy’s voice turned into a pathetic whimper.

“I knew it… you still care about her, don’t you?”

Julian’s voice was thick with booze. “It’s you, baby. Always you. What are you even talking about?”

“You’re the one who texted me to come get you! You said you needed me!”

Julian went quiet. He was probably staring at his phone, trying to make sense of the messages Damon had likely sent for him. To shut her up, he did what he always did: he bought her off.

“Don’t be stupid,” he muttered. “You’re the one I actually want. There’s no comparison.”

Damon’s lips brushed my ear. “Hear that? He’s done with you. Honestly, he never deserved to have you in the first place.”

I didn't say anything. I just stared into the shadows, my heart feeling like a block of ice.

“But you told me you were sleeping at home tonight!” the girl whined.

“Stop it,” Julian sighed. “I haven’t touched my wife in years. Every time I wake up, it’s you I want next to me, okay? Just shut up and I’ll get you that bag you wanted.”

“The one from the window?”

“And the Emerald Heart necklace, too. I’m buying it back at the auction next week. It’s yours.”

A jolt of pure, white-hot hatred shot through me. That necklace… it was my mother’s. I’d sold it to save his pathetic company when he was on the brink of losing everything. He’d promised me, on his life, that he’d get it back for me.

And now he was using it to pay off his mistress.

“I can buy it for you,” Damon whispered, sensing the shift in me. “Just say the word.”

“No,” I said, my voice like glass. “That jewelry is dead to me. Waste of money.”

On the other side, the mood shifted. Heavy breathing. The sound of a belt hitting the floor.

“Not here, Julian…” she moaned.

“Nobody’s coming in here, babe. Relax.”

I closed my eyes, a wave of nausea hitting me. It was so cheap. So typical.

“Ready to go?” Damon asked.

I nodded. Before I could stand, he scooped me up in his arms, carrying me like I was something fragile.

“Put me down,” I hissed.

He did, but our movement caught Julian’s attention.

“Who’s there?!” he barked, sounding like a cornered animal.

Damon didn't even flinch. He just spoke up, his voice like a whip.

“Julian. Glad to see you’re keeping busy.”

Total silence. Then the sound of Julian scrambling to get his pants on. He sounded terrified when he finally spoke.

“Damon? I… I thought you were gone.”

“I was. But then I realized—isn't your wife waiting for you? You're not going home?”

Julian didn't have an answer. You could practically hear him sweating through the wall.

“No… not yet,” he finally managed to choke out.

“Right. Well, don’t let me stop the party.”

Damon pushed the door open and we walked out. I didn't look back. I didn't have to. Marcus was right behind us, like a silent shadow.

As we reached the car, Damon leaned in and whispered, “The trap is set. Everything’s moving exactly the way you wanted.”

“Good,” I said.

Checkmate, you son of a bitch.