All Chapters of The Debt Collectors Bride: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Damien’s POV: I didn’t mean to listen. I had stopped outside the door only to make sure the guards were positioned correctly. Gideon was weak, unstable, and this meeting carried too much risk to leave anything to chance. I told myself that was all it was. Then I heard Sera’s voice, soft and strained. It sounded like she was holding her emotions together by nothing but will. “Is that why Mom died?” My body went still. The corridor seemed to narrow around me. Every sound faded except the blood rushing in my ears. There was a pause. It was too long and too careful. “No,” Gideon finally said sharply. I knew it was a complete lie. “Then why won’t you tell me?” Sera asked. Her voice cracked. “You don’t get to protect me with silence anymore.” I closed my eyes. Gideon’s answer came quieter and broken. “Because if I say it out loud… they’ll come back.” “They“ The word settled into my bones like an old scar being pressed. “They warned me not to talk about her,” Gideon muttered.

Damien’s pov:She fell asleep before she even realized she was drifting.One second, her breathing was uneven and her fingers were curled tight against my shirt. The next, her whole body just… let go. The weight of the last few days seemed to leave her in one long, quiet sigh.I didn't move. I barely breathed. I was terrified that the slightest shift would wake her, or worse, break the fragile bridge she’d finally built between us.Her head rested against my chest, her dark hair spilling over my arm like silk, in dark, soft waves. I could feel the warmth of her breath against my skin, slow and warm. And the steady, honest rhythm of her heart.She felt so delicate. She wasn’t weak.. I knew better than that, but she was gentle. It was a kind of gentleness that made something deep inside my chest ache.I looked down at her face. In sleep, the girl who was always on guard vanished. The worry lines on her forehead smoothed out, and her lashes threw long shadows against her cheeks. Her lip

Damien’s pov:The drive back was quiet.It wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence I was used to… the kind filled with maps and threats. It was softer. Sera sat next to me, her eyes on the passing city, a small, lingering smile on her face. She looked like she was still lost in the paintings.I didn't say a word. I didn't want to interrupt her thoughts. When we pulled up to the mansion, the world rushed back in. The guards snapped to attention as the doors were thrown open. Usually, Sera hesitated at the entrance, but today, she walked inside without pulling her hand away from mine.Progress. It felt like a victory I hadn’t earned.She kicked off her shoes and stood there for a second, looking toward the stairs, then toward the kitchen.“I’m hungry,” she said, her voice a little shy. “I think I want to make a sandwich.”The words were so normal, yet they stopped me cold.The kitchen was staff territory, it was controlled, watched, professional. But she wasn't asking me for permission

Sera’s POV: My mind is struggling to keep up with everything that happened today. It feels as if someone forced my brain open and poured too many memories into it all at once. Everything feels too fast, too heavy, and too painful to process.I think about the art gallery and how beautiful the paintings were. I remember the way Damien looked at me when I smiled. I can still feel how close his face was to mine when we were in the kitchen.But then, everything changed. Now, my father is missing. Someone has taken him away from me.I also can't forget the scary version of Damien I saw today. I remember the sound of the guard screaming. I remember how calm Damien’s voice sounded while another man begged for his life. I saw the terrifying violence in Damien's hands.My chest feels tight again, and it is hard for me to breathe. I do not even remember deciding to get up and walk, but my legs are moving on their own. The mansion feels like it goes on forever as I walk through hallways that h

Sera’s POV:Morning came softly, the way it always did in this part of the mansion. Light filtered through the tall curtains in pale ribbons, touching the edges of the room like it was afraid to wake me too roughly. For a moment, I lay still, staring at the ceiling, pretending that if I didn’t move, nothing from last night would move either.My chest tightened.I sat up slowly, the sheets sliding off my shoulders. My body felt heavy, like I hadn’t slept at all. Maybe I hadn’t. Maybe I’d just closed my eyes and replayed everything over and over until the sun rose.I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. The floor was cool beneath my feet, grounding in a way my thoughts weren’t. Paint, I thought… I need to paint.That had always been the answer. Whenever my head got too loud, my chest too tight… art quieted the world. It gave me somewhere to pour things I couldn’t say.I crossed the room and went to the small table Damien had set up for me days ago. My art supplies were sti