LOGINDamian's POV
POV I jolted upright from the bed, my heart thudding hard against my ribs, even though I’d been just moments from slipping into a deep sleep. The sudden vibration of my phone on the nightstand had shattered the quiet, and the message from my secretary made every nerve in my body snap to attention. "Madam just boarded her flight. She’ll be home in less than four hours." My wife was on her way back from London—earlier than expected. Shit. I swung my legs off the bed and headed straight to the adjoining bathroom. Ava stirred, her body still tangled in the sheets, her silhouette barely visible in the golden hue of the bedside lamp. The scent of her skin still lingered on mine, a mixture of vanilla and the aftermath of our heat. It clung to me like a guilty whisper. I turned on the tap, let the water run cold, and stepped into the shower. I didn't have time to bask in it or reflect on the sin I was washing off. I scrubbed fast, the urgency pounding in my chest. My life was split between two worlds, and I couldn’t afford for them to collide. Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the steam-filled bathroom, a towel slung low on my waist. Ava was awake now, her eyes half-lidded but sharp as ever. She watched me quietly, her head resting on her palm. There was something unreadable in her gaze, like she already knew I was about to vanish again. I ignored the heaviness of her stare and walked over to the chair where I’d neatly hung my navy-blue suit earlier. My movements were quick and mechanical—boxers, trousers, shirt, tie. I was already fixing my wristwatch when she rose slowly from the bed, her silk robe slipping off her shoulder. She walked toward me without a word, barefoot and graceful, like temptation itself. Then she wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, pressing her warm body into mine. "Don’t go yet," she whispered, her lips brushing the base of my neck. I hesitated. Just for a breath. Then I turned to face her. “You know I have to.” Ava reached up and kissed me,slow, deep, lingering,like she was trying to etch her presence into my memory, mark her territory on my lips. I let myself respond, cupping her face, giving in for just a heartbeat longer. Then I pulled away. “I’ll call you,” I muttered. “You always say that,” she replied, her voice soft but sharp. I couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, I picked up my cufflinks and slid them into place. Every second felt heavier than the last. Outside, the night air was thick and damp. I got into my black Mercedes and slammed the door shut. For a moment, I sat there, gripping the steering wheel, my mind a mess. My reflection in the rearview mirror looked older than I remembered,tired, distracted, caught in the blur between duty and desire. My phone buzzed again just as I started the engine. Ava: When can I see you again? I sighed. I knew the rules. I was the one who set them. This wasn’t supposed to get complicated. I typed back: "Soon. But no messages tonight. I won’t be available until morning." I didn’t want her contacting me while Lydia was around. My wife was too intuitive for comfort. And although I’d mastered the art of keeping up appearances, one wrong move would undo everything I had built. I dropped the phone onto the passenger seat and pulled out of the driveway. As I drove through the quiet streets, flashes of Ava crossed my mind—her eyes, the curve of her smile, the way she moaned my name just hours ago. But as the city lights blurred past, another image slowly pushed its way in: Lydia. My wife. The woman I’d built a life with. She was everything I ever wanted,beautiful, poised, the daughter of a retired medical legend, and the perfect partner for my public image. We had married fast—just five months of courtship—and while it had seemed ideal at the time, I often wondered if she had sensed the distance that had crept between us like a shadow in the dark. She hadn’t been around much lately, and maybe that had made it easier for me to slip away and fall into Ava’s world. But Lydia was coming back, and with her return came reality. As I approached my estate, my stomach tightened. The tall gates opened automatically, and the headlights washed over the manicured hedges and well-lit driveway. Everything looked perfect. Too perfect. The house was dark, silent,still waiting. I stepped out of the car and took a deep breath before walking in. The air smelled of lemon polish and floral air freshener. My housekeeper had clearly made sure everything was in order. I headed upstairs and entered the master bedroom, flicking on the lights. I peeled off my jacket and slumped onto the bed, not bothering to undress fully. My head fell back against the pillow, but sleep refused to come. Ava’s message still hovered in my mind. Her touch still haunted my skin. But Lydia’s return loomed larger. Just then, the air shifted. A familiar scent filled the room,Chanel No. 5 Lydia’s signature perfume. I froze. The door to the walk-in closet creaked open, and there she was,Lydia, my wife, standing tall in a soft beige trench coat, her freshly styled curls falling gently over her shoulders. Her lips were glossed, her eyes lined with the precision only she could manage after a long flight. My blood turned cold. “Where were you, honey?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with something sharper. “I told your secretary to inform you I’d be back soon... but she called me later and said your phone was unreachable.” I swallowed hard. She tilted her head slightly, the way she always did when she was waiting for the truth,but already doubted it. “I... I didn’t think you’d be back this early,” I managed, sitting upright. “I was back four hours ago,” she said flatly. Four. Hours. My eyes darted to the bedside drawer,where I had dropped my phone after texting Ava. Dammit. “You weren’t here when I arrived,” Lydia continued, stepping farther into the room. “Your car wasn’t in the driveway. The staff said you stepped out in the afternoon and hadn’t returned until just now.” I stood up and walked over to the mirror, trying to compose myself as I slowly removed my wristwatch. My heart was beating too fast. I was never this careless. “I had a few things to attend to at the office,” I lied, keeping my voice even. “Just some last-minute meetings. You know how hectic the quarter-end gets.” She let out a soft, skeptical hum. There was silence between us. The kind that wasn’t comfortable. She was watching me. Studying me. And I could tell… something wasn’t sitting right with her. Lydia walked to her vanity table and started removing her earrings one by one, deliberately slow. “I left your favorite meal in the warmer,” she said. “I thought you’d be tired when you got back. But you don’t look tired at all.” I turned away from the mirror, forcing a small smile. “I’ll eat in a bit.” “Okay,” she said quietly, her eyes lingering on me for a moment too long. I moved toward the bathroom to escape her stare and splash cold water on my face. But just as I got to the door, Lydia spoke again. “Oh, by the way…” I paused. “I noticed something strange.” I turned back to look at her. She walked toward the bed and picked up my dress shirt from where I’d dropped it hastily on the couch. Her fingers ran over the fabric. “You changed clothes before coming upstairs,” she said slowly, holding the shirt up to her face. “But this shirt smells like vanilla. Not cologne. Definitely not yours.” My stomach dropped. She looked up at me, her eyes unreadable, but her voice calm,too calm. “Is there something I should know, Damian?” And where exactly were you?Lydia's POVI had been calm for exactly forty seven minutes.From the moment I walked out of that facility with the sound of Ava's voice behind me, through the car ride back across the city, through the elevator ride up to his floor, through the walk down the corridor that smelled of antiseptic and fresh flowers that his mother had sent because that was the kind of thing his mother did, appearances above everything else.Forty seven minutes of calm.Then my phone buzzed.I almost didn't look at it. I was already pushing open the door to his room, already arranging my face into the expression I had been wearing for weeks now.But something made me stop.Maybe it was the number. Unfamiliar. No name attached.Maybe it was the single word before the attachment.*Proof.*I stood in the doorway of my husband's hospital room and opened the message.And I read it.And then I read it again.Because the first time my brain refused to process it. Not because it was complicated. Because it was si
TThe first time in the suite had been desperate and hungry and electric, two people colliding after too long apart, too much history between them, too many things unsaid finding their way out through touch instead of words.The second time Lydia was present for every single moment of it.She noticed everything.The way Ava's breath changed when Lydia touched the back of her neck. The way her fingers curled into the sheets. The way she said Lydia's name like it was something she had been saving up. Like it was something she had missed the specific shape of in her mouth.Lydia filed all of it away.She was good at that now. Filing things away. Noticing without reacting. Feeling without showing. She had learned it in boardrooms and hospital waiting rooms and in the particular school of hard lessons that Damian had been running for years without realizing he was teaching her anything at all."Stay," Ava said afterward.She was lying on her side, looking at Lydia with those eyes that had
Chapter 67The phone beeped once.Just once, but it cut through the heavy silence of the car like a blade through silk.Lydia had just pulled out of the hospital parking lot, her hands steady on the steering wheel even though her mind was anything but. The late afternoon sun pressed through the windshield, warm and indifferent, the kind of light that had no business being so beautiful on a day this ugly. She had walked into that hospital as a wife. She was leaving as something else entirely. She was not sure what word fit yet, but wife was no longer it.Damian. Rachel. The emails. The careful, deliberate lies stacked one on top of another like bricks in a wall she had been living inside without ever realising it was a prison.She had suspected Ava. She had prepared herself for Ava. She had even, somewhere in the quiet part of herself she rarely visited, made a kind of peace with Ava.But Rachel?Rachel, who sat across from her in boardrooms with that composed, untouchable smile. Rach
RachelBy the time Rachel arrived at the office that morning, she had already convinced herself that everything was under control.The accident had shaken things, yesbut it hadn’t broken them. Damian was alive. Recovering. The board had been calmed, investors reassured, press statements carefully worded. She had worked through the night to make sure nothing slipped through the cracksThis was what she did best.She stepped into the elevator, straightened her jacket, and checked her reflection in the mirrored walls. Composed. Professional. Untouchable. The faint floral scent she wore was expensive reassuringly around her. Familiar. Safe.The elevator doors slid open.Something was wrong.Her assistant didn’t look up immediately when Rachel walked past her desk. That alone was unusual. Normally, there was an instant greeting, a flurry of updates.“Good morning,” Rachel said briskly.“Oh,good morning,” the assistant replied, a beat too late. “Mrs. Damian called earlier. She said she’d
LydiaThe morning at the hospital arrived without ceremony. No dramatic light through the windows.Just the same sterile brightness, humming machines, and the quiet weight pressing against my chest.I bent silently over my husband.Damian was still asleep. His breathing was steady now, deeper than it had been the night before, as though his body had finally decided to forgive him for surviving. Tubes ran from his arm, the oxygen mask resting loosely against his face. For the first time since the accident, he looked almost peaceful.A folded note lay on the bedside table, partly hidden beneath his phone.I picked it up.Take care, honey. Don’t think too much. I’ll be fine.My fingers tightened around the paper.The words were meant to soothe, to reassure. Once, they would have worked. Once, I would have clung to them like a prayer. But now they felt strangely hollow, like something written by a man who believed reassurance was the same thing as truth.My mind wandered despite myself, lo
The oxygen mask was suffocating, but it was also a shield. It allowed me to hide the grimace of fear that kept wanting to twist my face. I was staring at the ceiling, feeling every bruise from the minor wreck I’d actually been in,the one I’d staged to cover the real mess.Lydia was perched on the edge of the chair, looking utterly worn out. The relief in her eyes when I "woke up" had been a shot of pure, powerful adrenaline."You really scared me, Damian," she murmured, her voice rough with fatigue.I managed a dry, painful whisper past the edge of the mask. "I... I know. I'm sorryShe shook her head slowly, looking at her hands. "Don't apologize for surviving. Just tell me what happened. The police report was so vague.For a seconds I thought I had lose you “"It's... hazy," I rasped. "I remember the lights. Too fast. Trying to swerve. Then... pain. And the smell of smoke." I paused, forcing a shudder. "I just... crawled out. I didn't want to die alone on the side of the road. I want
The morning broke without ceremony. No soft sunlight warming the curtains, no breeze that whispered of peace. Instead, the gray light of an unsettled sky pressed against the blinds of Ava’s bedroom, dull and heavy, like the weight in her chest. She opened her eyes slowly, her face expressionless, t
“Are you ready, honey?” Damian’s voice was deep and warm as he adjusted his wristwatch, watching Lydia through the mirror’s reflection.“I’m coming, baby,” she replied, spraying her perfume delicately over her collarbone. “Today is going to be so much fun.”Fun—but not the type Damian was expecting
The air around the house that day was fresh,yet the thickness could be felt far beyond a thousand metres. Outside, the evening wind rustled the bougainvillea by the gate, but inside, not a single sound stirred.Damian pulled up in the driveway, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. The
Damian’s eyes stayed glued to the last photograph, the edges cutting into his fingers from how hard he held it. He had seen many unsettling things in his life , boardroom betrayals, financial scandals, men turning on each other for power but nothing had hollowed him out like this.The image was bu







