Tous les chapitres de : Chapitre 171 - Chapitre 180

"Inside. Now."She stepped into the room. He closed the door behind her. Locked it.Then he was on her.Not gentle. Not controlled. Just raw, burning possession.His mouth crashed against hers, teeth clashing, tongue forcing in deep, tasting like the whiskey he'd had earlier—bitter and sharp. Hands fisted in her hair, yanking hard enough to sting her scalp, tilting her head back roughly. His body slammed her against the door, the wood cold and hard against her back, trapping her completely."Mine," he growled against her lips, biting her bottom one hard, drawing a coppery taste of blood. "You're fucking MINE.""I know—" she gasped, but he cut her off with another brutal kiss, his hand sliding down to grip her throat, fingers squeezing just enough to make her pulse throb under them."Do you?" He bit her jaw, then her neck, teeth sinking in deep, sucking hard to leave marks that burned. "Because from where I was standing, you were letting that piece of shit touch your face. Put his filt

One week has passed.Seven days since Aria had pretended to sleep while Damian stood in the doorway of the guest room. Seven days since she'd seen that photo of him with Elena Winters, smiling for cameras the morning after he'd left her unconscious and destroyed.Seven days of something shifting inside her chest.She woke up every morning before dawn. Made coffee. Waited in the kitchen for whatever orders Damian would leave before going to work. Every night, she ate dinner while he watched. Answered when required. Went to her room when dismissed.But something was different now.She didn't apologize anymore when she moved too slowly or set his coffee down harder than necessary. Didn't flinch when he walked past. Didn't drop her eyes as quickly when he stared at her across the table.The marks on her neck had faded to yellow-green. The bruises on her hips were still tender but hidden. Her body had healed on the outside.What was inside hadn't.Monday morning. Aria made coffee and sat a

One week passed with the phone hidden in her closet.Every morning before dawn, Aria took it out. Five minutes—that's all she allowed herself. Five minutes of staring at Alex's message while her hands shook and her mind waged war with itself. This can't be tracked. Contact me when you're ready. You're not alone. Her thumb hovered over the keyboard every single time. Type something. Reach out. Ask for help. But fear stopped her—fear of what Damian would do if he found out, fear that escape was impossible, fear that hoping would destroy her faster than giving up. So she never typed anything. Just held the phone like proof she wasn't completely erased, then buried it again behind winter coats and unopened boxes. The anger grew each day—quiet and cold and dangerous. It lived in her chest alongside the fear, both of them feeding off each other until she didn't know which one would win.Friday afternoon, the day before the gala, Aria was sitting by the windows when she heard the elevator ch

The car pulled up to the Metropolitan Hotel entrance at exactly seven-fifteen.Aria sat in the back seat watching the red carpet unfold before them, cameras flashing, guests arriving in designer gowns and tailored suits. Her hands were folded in her lap. Steady. Not shaking the way they used to.Something was different tonight.The anger that had been buried inside her sat quiet and cold in her chest. Not screaming. Not breaking. Just... there. Waiting."Ready?" Damian's voice came from beside her.She turned to look at him. He was perfect as always—black suit fitted precisely, hair styled back, expression controlled and unreadable."Yes," she said.He studied her face for a moment. His eyes narrowed slightly like he was searching for something. Then he opened his door.The driver opened hers. She stepped out into the cool evening air.And immediately felt every eye turn toward them.The red carpet stretched before them—twenty feet of exposure between the car and the entrance. Photogr

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime that felt too damn polite for the storm brewing inside her. Aria stepped into the penthouse, her heels echoing like gunshots on the marble floor. She didn't pause, didn't glance around—just headed straight for the hallway, her spine rigid, her mind a whirlwind of fury she'd been bottling up for way too long."Where do you think you're going?"Damian's voice hit her from behind, low and controlled, but she caught that razor edge underneath, like a blade about to snap. She stopped dead, turning slow to face him, her heart pounding but her face a mask of calm she didn't feel.He was still by the elevator, jacket on, hands loose at his sides. His face was all ice, but those eyes—god, they burned with something black and ugly, like jealousy mixed with possession gone rotten."To bed," she said, keeping her voice even, like she wasn't about to explode."Not the guest room." He took a step closer. "My bedroom.""No."The word dropped between the