Chapter 4

Lila slipped through the side gate just after eleven-forty. The gala lights still spilled across the driveway, but the main entrance was quieting down. She had changed back into her plain black dress in the taxi, yet her blood still hummed from the callback. The director’s last words kept replaying: “You’re locked in for the full series, Liora. You owned that stage tonight.”

She moved fast toward the back door, bag heavy with the wig and makeup. One more minute and she would be upstairs, safe.

She never made it.

A wheelchair rolled out of the main hallway right as she turned the corner. Damien Blackthorn sat in it, dark suit sharp, face unreadable under the low lights. His uncle Victor walked beside him, speaking quietly. Lila tried to step back, but her foot caught the edge of the marble step.

She pitched forward.

Her hands landed on the arms of the wheelchair. Her body followed, collapsing straight into Damien’s lap.

Time slowed.

For one long second she was pressed against him… chest to chest, her face inches from his. He smelled like cedar and something colder. His hands came up automatically, steadying her waist so she wouldn’t slide off. His grip was firm. Warm. Not the grip of a man who was supposed to be helpless.

Lila’s breath caught.

His eyes met hers.

They were dark, sharp, and far too aware. Nothing like the broken, distant heir her family had described. For a heartbeat neither of them moved. She felt the solid muscle under the suit, the controlled strength in the arms holding her.

...He’s not broken...

Victor cleared his throat. “Miss?”

Lila jerked back as if burned. She scrambled off Damien’s lap and stepped away, face burning. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see…”

Damien’s gaze stayed on her. Calm. Unblinking. He said nothing, but the look was enough. It stripped away the invisible mask she had worn for years in one quiet second.

Victor smiled politely. “No harm done. You must be the younger sister. Lila, yes?”

She nodded, throat tight. “Yes.”

Damien still hadn’t spoken. His eyes flicked over her once… coat, plain dress, the faint smudge of stage makeup she hadn’t quite wiped off. Something shifted in his expression. Not pity. Not interest. Something sharper. Like he was reading a script he hadn’t expected.

Victor placed a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “We were just leaving. The evening was… illuminating.”

Damien’s gaze lingered on Lila a moment longer. Then he gave a single, slow nod to his uncle. The wheelchair rolled forward again.

As they passed her, Damien’s voice came low, calm, meant only for her.

“Next time, watch your step.”

The words were quiet. Almost gentle. But they landed like a warning.

Lila stood frozen as the front door closed behind them. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

She had just fallen into the lap of the man her family planned to marry off to her sister.

And for the first time in six years, someone had looked straight through the invisible girl… and seen something else.

She pulled out her phone with shaking fingers. One new message waited from her agent: “Table read tomorrow night at eight. Don’t miss it. This role is yours to lose.”

Tomorrow night. The same night her mother expected her to smile and serve at the follow-up family brunch with the Blackthorn lawyers.

Lila stared at the screen.

She had two choices now.

Stay invisible and let them bury her.

Or step onto the stage she had built in secret… and risk burning everything down.

The fuse was already lit.