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Lahat ng Kabanata ng Her kiss,His Downfall : Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

56 Kabanata

Resurrection In Red

The dress was murder red.The kind of red that seduced and stabbed in the same breath. Ava Steele stood before the floor-length mirror in the penthouse suite of the Monarch Hotel, her reflection a contradiction — elegance carved from rage, beauty veined with vengeance. The silk clung to her body like it had secrets to keep. Just like her.She adjusted the neckline slightly, exposing one bare shoulder. Perfect. Soft enough to invite attention. Sharp enough to make Damon King regret breathing.Her lips curled upward. Not a smile. A warning.Tonight, she would face the man who destroyed her.Not as Aria Sinclair — the woman who once loved him enough to die.But as Ava Steele — the woman who came back to bury him.She turned from the mirror and reached for the delicate gold clutch on the dresser. Inside it: her new business card, an invitation to the gala, and a photo she hadn’t looked at in years. Damon’s smile. Her old wedding ring on his finger.She didn’t need to bring the picture. Bu

The Woman In Red

Chapter 2 – The Woman in Red---Damon couldn’t sleep.The ceiling of his penthouse condo stared back at him like it held answers he didn’t have.Midnight passed. One. Two. He didn’t close his eyes once.The image of her — the woman in red — was seared behind his eyelids. The curve of her lips. The cruel calm in her voice. The way her gaze sliced through him like she knew all his sins.It was the eyes.God, it was always the eyes.They weren’t exactly Aria’s, but something in them felt like home and hell combined.---He poured himself a glass of scotch and stood by the tall window overlooking the Manhattan skyline. The city was quiet now — its ambition asleep. But his past wasn’t.Aria Sinclair had died five years ago. That truth was carved into stone, cremated, buried with all the apologies he never said.He hadn’t gone to the funeral. Couldn’t.Or wouldn’t.What was the difference, really?The bottle was half-empty before the thoughts slowed. But the ache in his chest didn’t fade.

Ghost Don't Bleed

Chapter 3 – Ghosts Don’t Bleed---The silence in Damon’s apartment wasn’t peaceful. It was accusatory.Every sound he didn’t make echoed with what he hadn’t said.What he should have said.To Aria.To the woman he might have buried alive.The ice in his whiskey glass had melted hours ago. He didn’t notice.He stared at the CCTV screenshots his team pulled from the Carlton Plaza. Ava. Ava. Ava.The camera had caught her leaving the boardroom — face unreadable, stride smooth, eyes unbothered.He zoomed in.The face was newer. But the eyes...God. It was her.And yet it couldn’t be."Aria," he whispered for the first time in five years.The sound of her name broke something loose in him. A dam. A wall. A silence.He slammed his hand on the desk so hard the glass cracked.His reflection — fractured.Just like everything else.---Ava sat across from the Ashford Tech CEO at a private rooftop brunch. The sun was gentle. The skyline sharp.The deal was simple: she’d offer media immunity, im

Broken Crowns Breathe Quietly

Chapter 4 – Broken Crowns Bleed Quietly---Damon King rarely woke to chaos. He was the kind of man who orchestrated silence even in war.But that morning, the world burned.He opened his phone to over 90 notifications. Missed calls from his PR chief, three lawyers, his COO, and a name he hadn’t seen in years:Celeste Monroe.He didn’t answer any of them.Instead, he opened the news app.KING GROUP LAWSUIT LEAKED: Sexual Harassment Cover-up Resurfaces“Billionaire Damon King’s Old Demons Return” — NY Financial TimesCEO Under Fire as 2018 Victim Steps Forward with New EvidenceAnonymous Source Blows the Whistle — Karma or Corporate War?He dropped the phone onto his bed.His world wasn’t cracking.It was collapsing.And someone was pulling the thread with perfect timing.---He stormed into his office at 7:12 a.m., unshaven, in a black coat and no tie. The building buzzed with silent fear — his staff already anticipating blood.Celeste Monroe was waiting in his office, legs crossed, c

A Taste Of Ruin

Damon didn’t sleep.Again.The sheets still smelled like her. Or maybe it was a memory. Either way, it strangled him.That kiss…It was nothing like before.It wasn’t love.It was punishment.And God help him—he wanted more of it.His lips still burned with the weight of her mouth. Her breath. Her words.“This kiss isn’t forgiveness. It’s evidence.”He replayed it a thousand times. And every time it ended the same — with her pulling away. And him… standing in the middle of everything he broke.At 5:43 a.m., his phone buzzed.PR HEADLINES UPDATE:KING GROUP STOCK DOWN 7%#CancelKing trending worldwideEx-employee speaks anonymously: “It was all covered up.”He slammed the phone against the table. The screen cracked. Didn’t matter.What mattered was: the empire he built was bleeding.And she was the one holding the knife.---In her penthouse, Ava sat in the dark, barefoot, wrapped in a silk robe.The lights were off. The glass of wine untouched.She wasn’t angry. Not tonight.She was t

Let Me Hurt Where You Left Me

Chapter 6 – Let Me Hurt Where You Left Me---lThe boardroom was silent.But not the respectful kind — the loaded kind. The kind of silence that smells like blood before anyone notices the wound.Damon sat at the head of the King Group table, shoulders rigid, jaw locked.Across from him sat eight board members — men and women who used to cling to his words. Now they were clinging to contingency plans.One spoke. “We need to step back from the press.”Another added, “Or better yet — you do.”Damon didn’t flinch.“You want me to resign?” he asked, voice cold.“No,” said Marissa Sloan, his oldest board ally. “We want you to disappear long enough for the public to forget.”“And if I don’t?”They didn’t answer.Because they didn’t need to.---After the meeting, Damon stood in the executive washroom, staring at his reflection.The man looking back at him wasn’t a king. He was a shell.Underneath the power and the arrogance was a man falling apart — haunted by a woman he destroyed and a tr

The Enemy Inside

The Enemy Inside The morning after Damon kissed Ava again was suffocatingly quiet.Ava sat at her kitchen table, untouched tea cooling in her hands, the taste of last night still burning on her lips. Not the kiss — the guilt. The rage. The collapse she almost let herself fall into.She wasn’t supposed to let him in again — physically or emotionally.Yet she had. Just for a second.A knock at the door pulled her from her spiral.Nari stepped in, face tight. “We have a situation.”Ava stood slowly, every muscle in her body tense. “What kind?”Nari held up a printed photo.It was Ava.From this morning.Walking through the lobby of her private residence.The image was grainy but damning.Someone had taken it up close — close enough to see the scar on her wrist. The one no one but Damon and Nari knew about.Ava went cold.“Who the hell took this?” she whispered.Nari didn’t blink. “Marcus Lyon says he’s not behind it.”Ava narrowed her eyes.“Then someone else knows I’m alive.”---Damon

Burn This Empire With Me

Ava didn’t sleep.She stared at the business card until the ink seemed to burn through her skin. "Tell him… he chose the wrong woman to protect."What the hell did it mean?Damon paced the living room like a panther caged in guilt.“This was a message,” she finally said. “But not just for me. For you.”“I know,” he muttered.Her eyes pinned him. “What aren’t you telling me?”He hesitated. “Caleb Rowe was my friend. My head of security. I trusted him with everything.”She narrowed her gaze. “Did you trust him with me?”He froze.“I didn’t know he was involved in your disappearance,” Damon said slowly, carefully. “But I’m starting to think… he wasn’t acting alone.”She stood. “That’s not an answer. Did you ever give the order, Damon?”His silence stretched.Her voice cracked. “Did you ever doubt me enough to want me dead?”He looked at her then, and for once, he looked like the one broken.“No,” he said hoarsely. “But I didn’t protect you. And that might’ve been worse.”---Meanwhile, N

The Night She Died

The Night She Died Smoke still lingered in the air as fire crews combed through the wreckage of Ava’s exploded car. The early morning light turned the rising ash to gold, but nothing about the moment felt holy.She stood in the distance, arms wrapped around herself, the cold creeping deeper than her skin.Damon stood beside her, silent. Protective. Unmoving.“You know what this means,” she said after a long moment.He nodded. “It wasn’t just a warning. It was an invitation.”Ava’s jaw tensed. “Then let’s RSVP.”---Later that afternoon, she called a press conference.The city’s media outlets packed the hall. Cameras flashed. Murmurs echoed.Ava walked to the podium in a sleek black suit, hair pulled back like a blade.“My name is Aria Steele,” she began. “Two years ago, I was declared dead. Today, I reclaim my name, my legacy, and my truth.”Gasps filled the room.Damon watched from the back, heart thundering.“I was betrayed by people I trusted,” she continued. “But I will not be si

Fake Love, Real Cracks

Fake Love, Real CracksThe morning light bled through Ava’s curtains, but it did nothing to warm the chill in her bones.On the table in front of her was a photograph.It had arrived in a black envelope — no note, no return address. Just the image:Damon and Serena. Tangled in each other. Kissing.The date in the corner?Exactly one week after her staged death.Her hands shook. Not from heartbreak — that would’ve required trust. But from the sharp sting of betrayal she’d dared to pretend wasn’t real.He had mourned her. He had shattered over her disappearance.But he’d also moved on. With the woman who wanted her gone.Ava blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall."Fake love always leaves real cracks," she whispered.---Damon stared at the broken photo frame on his office floor. Ava had left it there. Not shattered, just cracked. Like a warning.She hadn’t spoken to him since the photo.He tried to explain. Tried to text, to call, to beg. But she had gone cold.He knew why.Becau

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