CHAPTER 4

There are moments in life when the ground doesn’t just shift beneath you—it crumbles and threatens to swallow you.  

Mine began to collapse the moment Damien whispered my real last name while inside me, like a ghost I didn’t remember inviting. I was shocked beyond words.

 My feet froze at that spot. Leaving my jaw dropped.

 I turned viciously towards his direction to ask him to repeat the name.

 Maybe I had an allusion or was it real? I questioned myself but I couldn't get myself to ask him such a question.

 My head was running a scatter hat with a lot of questions at the same time. I hated myself for giving in to his urge cheaply. 

I needed to remind myself we are for contract and not romance.

 Yet I couldn't take my eyes off him. His cute face. His well curved lips and yes of course his blue eyes which were closed.

The next morning, the sunlight spilled into the penthouse suite like liquid gold. But I wasn’t warm. I sat at the edge of the bed, the silk sheets tangled around my waist, and beside me on the bed was Damien.

His scent is still clinging to my skin and on the duvet. Last night had left my body aching in places I’d forgotten I could feel—but my mind? It was a war. I recalled I asked him a question which led into a temptation I couldn't resist even when my instinct cried for me to stop.

I was irritated by the action. I couldn't believe I allowed my obsession to take the better part of me. 

The thought that I allowed this scumbag to ride me last night drove me crazy. 

I couldn't get the imagination off my mind. The name he called me while moaning while I performed the blow job on him left my lips drafting apart.

“How did he know that name”?

 Was it an allusion? Or he called me by that name?

 So many questions were floating through my brain and I couldn't think properly. 

 I need fresh air. I needed to watch my face. Perhaps I could think better.

"You'll need to be sharper than you've ever been, Celie," Damien said from behind me. Shock ran through my spine, hearing his voice behind my back.

The air hung on me,then I exhaled softly.

 Turning over to see him He was already dressed, his tailored suit hugging every sharp edge of his body. "High society doesn’t forgive. They devour."

He slid a thick leather-bound book across the table toward me. Inside were names, faces, and secrets. Filled with political scandals. Cheating spouses. Blackmail material.

"You're going to learn how to turn a smile into a dagger," he said. "And they won’t even see it coming."

The shift in his voice—it wasn’t cold. It was surgical. And something in me, something buried and bruised, wanted that power.

Later that afternoon, I left the penthouse under the guise of shopping. Instead, I asked the driver to take me to my childhood neighborhood. The houses were smaller now, cracked and worn from time. My old home stood crooked at the end of the block, the paint has peeled, the memories sealed behind a rusted fence.

But when I pushed the gate open and stepped onto the porch, it hit me—a smell. A sound. Laughter.

A boy’s laugh. That voice was familiar.

Damien’s laugh.

It echoed in my mind, like it belonged to this place.

I gripped the railing, breath frozen.

Had he lived here too? Was that where he knew me from?

I needed answers, and I needed them fast. I wanted to clear my mind off all this by getting answers on how Damien got to know about all this.

That evening, Damien claimed he had a meeting. I didn’t expect to follow him. I didn’t expect to see him at an upscale bar, tucked in a private booth…with Ethan.

My breath caught as I stared at both of them. They were laughing—laughing—as if the man who ripped out my heart wasn’t supposed to be my enemy. My fists clenched as I stood there watching both of them.

 I wanted to run towards them, to rip Ethan right there and question Damien why he was sitting with my enemy.

 But I couldn't move. My body was stiff. Angry filled inside me. 

I sat there watching both of them, anger filled inside of me.

Damien leaned forward, said something I couldn’t hear. And Ethan became tense. I saw his hand trembling as he took a drink.

What the hell were they discussing? Business? Me? What!

My stomach churned with betrayal I didn’t yet understand.

When I returned to the penthouse, Damien was already waiting. The anger was still fresh in me. 

“I saw you,” I said, with a cold voice.

He didn’t flinch. “I assumed you would.”

I stepped into him, shoving him with both hands. “You’re playing a game I’m not part of—”

His lips were on mine before I finished. Fierce. Demanding. A kiss that didn’t ask—it took.

He grabbed my waist and spun me toward the table, laying me across the cold surface. His mouth was on my throat, and his hands parted my thighs, dragging my panties down.

“You want to know the truth?” he growled, his voice a blade. “It lives in your skin.”

I gasped as he entered me in one hard thrust—possessive, punishing. The table shook beneath us. He gripped my wrists, pinning them down.

I tried to regain control, rolling my hips, pulling his hair. But Damien only smiled,with his eyes dark with something unspoken.

“You never told me your real last name,” he whispered into my ear.

I froze.

He continued, slower now, savoring my shock.

 I couldn't bear it other than to moan.

“Still think this is just about revenge?”

Hours later, I lay in his bed, sore and silent, staring at the ceiling. Damien was gone—vanished like smoke.

The phone on the nightstand buzzed. I picked it up.

No caller ID.

I answered.

“You were never meant to survive this,” a distorted voice hissed.

Before I could speak, the line went dead.

 I was trying to process what the caller said and who was that when a knock came at the door.

My heart was still racing from the call, I pulled on a robe and opened it.

No one.

Just a box, black and unmarked.

Inside was a USB drive.

 I stood there for a while, wondering who could have dropped that but I had no answer . I decided to plug it in.

I plugged it into Damien’s laptop, hesitating for a while.

A video began to play.

Three children. Running through a garden. Laughing.

One was me.

One was Ethan.

The third—his face turned toward the camera, blurry, but unmistakable—

Damien.

They were friends. Best friends.

And in the background, a man and woman argued. My parents were there.

The camera zoomed in just before the video cut off—

Damien’s hand wrapped tightly around my tiny wrist… pulling me away from something I couldn

’t see.

The screen went black.

Behind me, Damien’s voice:

“Now you’re ready to know what really happened that night.”