Ava's Point of View
The city lights below were blurred streaks of color through the tinted car windows. I sat stiffly beside Damian, the silence between us a crackling force that neither of us dared to touch.
Ever since the headline dropped about his father's involvement in his memory loss, he hadn't said a word. Not a single question. Not even a whisper.
I wanted to believe it was shock.
But deep down, I feared it was something else. Something far worse.
He was remembering.
And those memories were sharp enough to bleed.
"Where are we going?" I finally asked, unable to stand the suspense gnawing at my insides.
He didn't glance at me. "To the estate."
My stomach twisted. The estate—his father's fortress. The place where everything began. And maybe, where everything would end.
"You think he'll talk to you?" I asked carefully.
"I don't need him to talk," Damian said coldly. "I need him to listen."
The rest of the ride was a blur. When we pulled up to the gates, the mansion loomed like a graveyard of secrets, its windows glowing faintly like eyes watching us. Damian's jaw was clenched so tightly I thought it might crack.
The butler let us in without a word, clearly instructed to expect us. Every corridor we walked through felt colder than the last, and as we reached the private wing, I almost turned back or disappear.
But I couldn't leave Damian now.
Not when the truth was finally on the verge of ripping itself open.
He didn't knock.
He burst into his father's study like a man ready for war.
"Tell me the truth," Damian said, voice low but lethal.
His father looked up slowly, without shaking; folding his newspaper like nothing about this moment surprised him.
"I assume you're referring to the article."
Damian's hands curled into fists. "Is it true?"
A long pause. Then: "Yes."
The air snapped with tension. Damian took a step forward. "You drugged me. You erased her from my mind."
"I protected you," his father snapped. "You were going to throw everything away for a nobody. A woman who didn't understand the weight of your legacy."
"She was my wife!"
"She was your mistake!"
The silence that followed was heavy and loud. Damian's chest rose and fell rapidly, his entire body trembling with restrained fury.
I stepped forward. "You had no right—"
His father's eyes cut to me, hard and cold. "You don't belong here."
I met his gaze head-on. "Neither do you."
Damian turned back to his father. "How could you?" His voice cracked. "How could you take her away from me?"
"I did what had to be done."
"You ruined everything."
His father stood. "I saved you. You were too blind to see that she was using you."
"No," Damian said quietly, his voice low and ragged. "You were blind. And now everything you tried to bury is coming back."
He turned on his heel and stormed out. I followed, heart pounding.
We barely made it back to the car before Damian punched the dashboard with a snarl. "He didn't even flinch. Like destroying my life meant nothing to him."
"You were just a pawn," I whispered. "Like me."
Damian looked at me then—truly looked at me—and something inside him shattered.
"Tell me," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "What else is there?"
I blinked. "What?"
"I know there's more. There's something you haven't told me yet."
My heart pounds, My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
How could I tell him?
How could I say the one thing that would change everything?
But I never got the chance.
Because just then, Damian's phone rang.
He answered, and I saw the blood drain from his face.
"What?" he asked sharply.
A beat.
"Where?"
Another beat.
"I'm coming."
He ended the call and looked at me, eyes burning. "It's Sophia. She's in the hospital."
"What? What happened?"
He didn't answer. Just drove.
And as the city blurred past us, I couldn't help but feel it—like the ground beneath us was cracking open.
Everything was unraveling.
Faster than I could hold it together.
And deep inside, I knew...
Rachel had struck again.
But this time?
She wasn't just coming for us.
She was coming for blood.