Chapter Three — Damian's Secret

The door opened.

Lena grabbed the nearest object she could find.

A heavy metal lamp.

She raised it.

Damian stepped inside.

He stopped.

His eyes moved from the lamp to her face.

"Put that down."

Lena didn't.

"Stay away from me."

He closed the door behind him.

"You're in danger."

"How did you find me?"

"I followed you."

"Why?"

"Because I knew you'd come here."

Lena's grip tightened around the lamp.

"You knew about this room."

Damian looked around.

His expression changed.

"No."

"You're lying."

"I didn't know your father kept this room."

Lena held up the photograph.

"Then explain this."

Damian took one look at it.

His face went completely still.

Lena noticed.

"You know her."

He didn't answer.

"You know this woman."

Damian walked toward the photograph.

Lena stepped back.

"Don't."

He stopped.

"That photograph was taken nineteen years ago."

"I know."

"Who is she?"

Damian's eyes darkened.

"I can't tell you."

Lena laughed bitterly.

"Of course."

She placed the lamp down.

"Everyone in my life knows something except me."

Damian looked at her.

"You need to leave."

"No."

"Lena."

"No!"

Her voice echoed through the room.

"My father died three days ago. My stepmother is hiding something. My uncle is acting terrified. You suddenly appear with a marriage contract. Now I find a secret room filled with photographs of you and my father."

She stepped closer.

"And you expect me to just leave?"

Damian said nothing.

Lena pointed at the photograph.

"Why were you here when I was born?"

His expression hardened.

"Who told you that?"

"The person texting me."

Damian's eyes narrowed.

"Show me."

She handed him the phone.

He read the message.

His jaw tightened.

"Who is this?"

"I don't know."

He looked at the number.

Then suddenly grabbed her wrist.

"Where did you get this?"

"Let go."

He released her immediately.

"Sorry."

Lena rubbed her wrist.

"You're not helping."

Damian turned toward the door.

"We have to go."

"Why?"

"Because whoever sent that message knows you're here."

"And?"

"And they want you dead."

Silence.

Lena stared at him.

"How do you know?"

"Because the same person tried to kill me six months ago."

She froze.

"What?"

Damian looked at her.

"I've spent the last six months trying to find them."

"Who are they?"

"I don't know."

"Then why are you protecting me?"

He hesitated.

"Because your father asked me to."

Lena shook her head.

"My father didn't trust you."

"He trusted me enough."

"How?"

Damian reached into his jacket.

He pulled out an old photograph.

Lena took it.

Her breath caught.

It showed her father holding a baby.

Beside him stood Damian.

But Damian looked barely twenty.

And the baby...

looked like Lena.

"What is this?"

"Proof."

"Proof of what?"

"That your father knew the truth about you."

Lena's hands trembled.

"About what?"

Damian looked at her.

"You weren't supposed to grow up as Lena Carter."

She stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

Before he could answer, a loud crash came from outside.

Damian immediately moved in front of her.

"Stay behind me."

"What happened?"

"Someone's in the house."

They heard footsteps.

Several.

Damian pulled out his phone.

"Get down."

Lena crouched behind the desk.

The door suddenly burst open.

Two men entered.

Damian moved quickly.

The confrontation lasted only seconds.

One man fled.

The other collapsed after Damian knocked the weapon from his hand.

Lena stared.

Damian grabbed her arm.

"We're leaving."

She followed him through the hidden corridor.

They emerged inside the library.

The mansion was in chaos.

Security guards were running through the hallways.

Evelyn was nowhere to be seen.

Victoria was screaming.

Damian pulled Lena toward the back entrance.

She stopped.

"My mother."

"I'll get her."

"No."

"Lena, listen to me."

"I can't leave her."

Damian looked directly at her.

"Your mother isn't here."

Lena froze.

"How do you know?"

"Because someone took her."

Her heart dropped.

"What?"

He showed her his phone.

A photograph appeared.

Her mother was sitting in a dark room.

Alive.

Terrified.

And beside her stood a man Lena had never seen before.

Under the photograph was one sentence:

Give us Lena, or she dies.

Lena couldn't breathe.

Damian lowered the phone.

"They want you."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"But you have an idea."

He looked at her.

"Yes."

"What?"

Damian hesitated.

Then he said:

"Because you're not who your family told you that you are."