All Chapters of Falling for my Saviour: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Damien The specialist was already moving around her, his small scanner in hand, tracing the curves of her shoulders, the back of her neck, the lines along her arms. He didn’t look at me once, his attention fixed entirely on her, murmuring short instructions without lifting his gaze. “Hold still… turn slightly… lift your hair a little… good, stay there.” His voice was calm, professional, neutral, and yet every word grated on me like sandpaper. I watched the way she followed each command perfectly, smoothly, without hesitation, without the slightest flicker of panic or irritation in her expression. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t stutter. She didn’t even blink more than usual. She just stood there, letting the scanner glide over her skin, letting him move around her as though she was invisible. Her hair, damp from the shower she’d taken before the specialist arrived, clung to her neck and the edges of her shoulders. The droplets made her skin glisten faintly under the fluorescent ligh

Aria’s POV For a second after the words left my mouth, nothing moved. The air itself seemed to stop. It was like the world forgot how to breathe with me. Damien didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. He just stood there, rigid, one hand still half-curled at his side, the faint tremor in his knuckles the only proof he was alive. His eyes locked on mine, and for a heartbeat, I wished he would just yell. Yelling, I could survive. This silence? I couldn’t. The air between us was too thin. My chest ached with the weight of it. “I killed someone.” The words echoed again in my head, low and final, like a stone sinking underwater. He exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw tightening as if he was grinding back every word that wanted to come out. “Who?” It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t disbelief. Just a question—quiet, sharp, and heavy enough to hurt. I couldn’t answer. My tongue felt thick, my throat raw. The truth sat there, waiting, poisonous. He took one step closer, slow, careful, like h

Aria’s POV I waited for him to look at me differently. To see what I’d been hiding all this time. But his stare didn’t change. If anything, it was worse because he still saw me the same. He didn’t move for a long time. Just stood there, a dark shape by the window, the city lights burning behind him like fire caught in glass. His hands hung loose at his sides, one still stained faintly with the dried blood from earlier. Every second stretched thin between us. I could hear the hum of the air conditioner, the quiet pulse in my ears, the whisper of my own breath. He turned finally, slow, deliberate. His eyes found me through the dim light steady, unreadable, the kind of look that said everything and nothing at once. The air shifted when he came closer. It always did with him. Heavy, charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. He stopped beside the bed, close enough that I could smell the smoke on his clothes, the faint trace of whiskey still clinging to his breath. F

Aria’s POV I hate storms. It makes my skin crawl imagining nothing but danger. The storm started just before midnight that day. Wind pressed against the windows, thunder rolled through the clouds, and the whole city below looked like it was waiting for something to fall apart. The lights blurred behind the glass, trembling whenever lightning crossed the sky. It felt like the world had stopped breathing, like even the air inside the penthouse was too afraid to move. He had been quiet all evening. Too quiet. Damien sat by the window with a drink in his hand, the half-empty bottle beside him catching the light each time it flashed. He didn’t look at me. He just watched the rain as if it owed him an answer for everything that had gone wrong. His shoulders looked rigid, his jaw locked, and the silence around him was heavy enough to make my chest hurt. I kept waiting for him to say something anything but the only sound in the room was the rain beating against the glass and the low,

Aria’s POV I thought an earthquake was occurring when I heard a loud thump and rushed out of bed to check. I had just woken up from a nap. The floor shook beneath my feet again, this time harder. Another crash followed, sharper, closer like something heavy had been thrown against a wall. For a second, I stood there frozen, my heart pounding so fast it hurt. Then came another sound a dull, thick hit, not like furniture, but like flesh meeting concrete. My breath caught. I knew that sound. I grabbed the edge of the door, opened it slowly, and stepped into the hallway. The air was heavy, thick, charged. Every light in the corridor was still on, too bright, too sterile, like the house was holding its breath. The noise came again. This time it was crash and a roar that wasn’t a word but a sound torn from someone’s throat. Damien. I moved toward it before I could think, bare feet against the cold marble. My pulse thudded in my ears so loud it felt like part of the noise. The