Celeste clutched the photograph album to her chest as she crept down the hallway. Her fingers were numb. Her legs are shaky. Her mind kept circling that image—the one with her mother smiling beside a man who looked too much like Damien. But the date printed in the corner said it was taken before Damien should’ve been born.He had lied.Again. She waited until the residence fell quiet. Then she slipped on her coat, shoved the key from the attic letter into her pocket, and grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawer. She didn’t understand what she was looking for. She just knew she couldn’t sit in that mansion another second without doing something. The rain had stopped, but the wind still howled. She drove for an hour outside the city, following the note in her mother’s diary. “Where truth was once spoken in silence,” it said.That line had haunted her for days. Until she remembered the old countryside house her mother used to take her to. It had been sold years ago, left to rot.
The next morning, the storm was over but the air inside the mansion still felt tense. Celeste’s eyes hurt from not sleeping, but she couldn’t stay still because Damien’s words from last night kept repeating in her mind. “Good. That’s safer.” She hated that he said that sounding serious. But extra than that, she hated the concern in his voice, like he was looking to guard her from something too huge for each of them.She wanted solutions. Her bare feet made no sound at the bloodless marble ground as she walked to Damien’s study. The hallway changed into still and quiet, so quiet that she paused outside the thick wood door and glanced over her shoulder. No one. She twisted the handle. Locked. Of course. But she had found a key—taped to the back of her mother’s letter. And Damien hadn’t said which lock she was supposed to stay away from. Her hands shook as she took the important thing from her pocket and put it inside the lock. It clicked. She stepped in quickly and shut the door.
The lights blinked once and again, then everything went dark. A loud thunder boom shook the big windows, and the rain started hitting the glass harder, like the storm had been waiting for the perfect time to go wild. Celeste, who was halfway up the stairs with a heavy old book in her hand, stopped moving right away, her heart beating fast and she held her breath the second she heard slow, heavy footsteps coming from somewhere behind her in the darkness.“Damien?” Her voice was soft but strained. He walked into the unsteady light from the fireplace, holding a flashlight. The sudden shadows carved sharp lines on his face. He looked tired. Angry. Guarded.She didn’t move. “You okay?” he asked, his voice unusually quiet. Celeste nodded slowly but her eyes didn’t leave his. “Why did the power go out?”“Transformer blew. Storm’s bad.” She put the book back and tried to walk past him, but Damien stepped into her path. The library was big, but with the storm howling outside and the firep
The hallway was quiet. Too quiet. Celeste stood there, her hand still on the doorknob while her heart pounding from the way Damien had walked away last night. His voice still echoed in her ears. “If I give in, we’d both lose.” “ What could he have meant?” As he stood so close his breath brushed against her skin, sending heat through her. And just like that, something inside her shifted, like a wall deep in her mind that quietly gave way. Like he wasn’t just Damien Knight, the cold billionaire with too many secrets. He was something else, something almost… reachable. But then he left. Just like that. Like always. Celeste exhaled shakily and turned away from the door. She needed to stop chasing answers from him. She needed to find her own. Her mind went back to the chest—the old wooden one her mother had hidden so carefully. There was still so much she didn’t know. A whole life her mother had buried in silence. And if there was one thing she’d learned since arriving here, it
The door clicked shut behind Damien.Celeste stood frozen, her heart pounding from the shock of his sudden exit. The fire he left in his eyes still burned in her mind. His words hung heavy in the room, “You don’t want to know the truth.” But she did. She really, really did. Sleep was out of the question. The house had gone quiet, but her thoughts screamed in the room. Celeste paced her bedroom and glanced at the small key in her hand every few minutes, the one she had found tucked inside the letter, while her thumb rubbed over the cold metal, as if that alone would summon the answers she needed. She didn’t need more time to think. She needed action. She took her phone for light, then she slipped out of her room and tiptoed down the hallway with every creaking floorboard making her flinch. but she didn’t stop even when the walls felt like they were watching her. So she climbed the narrow stairs to the attic, her breath visible in the cool air. The attic door moaned open like a warni
The video ended,and the silence in the room screamed louder than anything I’d ever heard. My breath was shaky, my fingers trembling as I pulled the USB out. Damien’s voice still echoed in my head:"Now you're ready to know what really happened that night." But was I really ready? I turned around to face him, but he was no longer there, Just like that? He had disappeared again, like a shadow that only showed up when the lights dimmed. My heart was racing, torn between fear and frustration. I needed answers. I needed to understand why my past was crawling back into my present like this. And more than anything, I needed to know why Damien, the man who kissed like a storm and held secrets in his eyes, was tangled up in it all. The next morning, I sat on the couch, laptop still open, the screen black. I had barely slept, my thoughts racing all night.Damien returned just before dawn, but he didn’t say a word. He dropped his keys on the table and walked straight into the bathroom .
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
They say revenge is best served cold, but tonight, mine was wearing diamonds, designer silk, and a man the world would kill to touch. Most feared. Youngest billionaire ever heard.I stepped out of the limousine onto the crimson carpet rolled out at the Sinclair Foundation Gala, camera flashes erupting like gunfire. Every eye snapped to me. Every eye blink got snapped—and more importantly, to the man whose arm I held softly. Everyone wants to have a picture of him. Some wanted to touch him but couldn't dare to. The guards made sure he was well protected.Damien Sinclair.He looked devastating in black. Impossibly confident, dangerous, and also a phantom of wealth and secrets. But as we moved through the crowd like royalty, I realized I wasn’t his decoration. I was his statement. His tool for revenge. And yes, the artists and the designer he hired did a great job on me. One could barely recognize I was the low life Celesteel working tiredly every day. The makeup changed my facial look
“Only a man who’s dangerous looks at you like he already owns your secrets.”That’s how Damien Sinclair looked at me as he pointed I sat at the car as the guard opened the car door.The Bentley’s interior smells like sandalwood and silent power as he had always been. The city blurred past the tinted windows as he poured me a glass of wine without asking what I liked.It was Malbec. My favorite.I hadn’t said a word to him since he gave me a lift. My soaked clothes clung to my skin, my fingers were trembling but was only noticed by me, and my thoughts jumbled, wondering what he is up to. Every instinct in me screamed to run. But his voice was gravity—low, smooth, addictive just as it has always been. And my exhaustion made escape feel like floating, I wanted to but I couldn't.“I have an offer for you ,” he said,with his eyes trained ahead as the car ascended into the heart of Manhattan’s elite. “And I don’t make them twice.” he snapped. I didn't reply to him instantly. The elevato