Chapter 67

Damien’s POV

The mansion carried a heavy quietness the next morning—a kind of hush that didn’t feel peaceful but tense. Like the air before thunder claps. I could feel it in my chest. Ava’s distance wasn’t fading, it was getting worse.

I had knocked on her door earlier.

She didn’t answer.

I heard her breathing on the other side, but she didn’t open.

I spent the rest of the morning irritated, restless, rolling through the hallways with a sharpness that made the staff stiffen when I passed. I wasn’t angry at them. I wasn’t even angry at Ava.

I was angry at myself.

Because I knew exactly why Ava was withdrawing…

and exactly who was responsible.

Vanessa.

Even thinking her name tasted bitter now.

Vanessa found me before lunch, of course. She always found me. Like a shadow that had memorized my patterns long before Ava ever arrived.

She slipped into the living room where I sat, her heels silent on the polished floor, her dress hugging her body like confidence in cloth form.

“Damien,” she began sweetly, “we need to talk.”

I didn’t bother looking up from the documents on my lap. “We don’t.”

Vanessa smiled, unfazed. “You’re upset. I can tell. You’re never this curt unless something is wrong.”

I didn’t respond.

Vanessa moved to the sofa beside me and sat—close, too close. “Is it Ava?”

My jaw clenched. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh but it does,” Vanessa said softly, turning her body toward me. “She’s been acting strange ever since I arrived, hasn’t she?”

I glared at her. “You did something to her.”

Vanessa placed a hand to her chest dramatically. “Me? Damien, I barely even spoke to her.”

“That’s the problem,” I hissed. “You don’t need words to cause damage. Your presence alone is enough.”

Vanessa’s expression faltered for a moment—hurt flickering through her eyes. If it was real or staged, I couldn’t tell. She was a master at mixing the two.

“I know you’re angry,” Vanessa whispered. “But you’re blaming the wrong person.”

I gave a humorless laugh. “Who should I blame, then?”

Vanessa reached out, gently placing her hand on my knee—on the metal of my wheelchair, not my skin. “Her.”

I stiffened. “Vanessa—”

“She’s hiding something from you,” Vanessa said firmly, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “I can see it. Everyone can see it.”

I folded the document, trying to keep calm. “Ava is overwhelmed. She has a lot on her mind.”

“And you don’t?” Vanessa countered, raising a brow. “You’re handling a company, a disability, and a household. Yet you’re still the one chasing her around, trying to get her to talk.”

I felt the sting of that.

Vanessa leaned closer. “Doesn’t that feel… wrong to you?”

I said nothing.

“I watched you two,” Vanessa continued gently. “She’s not behaving like someone who appreciates your help. She’s behaving like someone who’s scared you’ll find something out.”

My heart tightened. “Vanessa, stop.”

But she didn’t.

“The more I think about it, the more it makes sense,” she murmured thoughtfully. “Her background… her financial struggles… the desperation she tries to hide.”

My pulse thinned.

Vanessa glanced around, making sure we were alone, then whispered,

“What if she only sees you as a way out?”

My stomach twisted in disgust—at her words, at the insinuation, at how easily she could say something so cruel.

“Ava isn’t like that,” I said sharply.

“I hope you’re right,” Vanessa replied with a sympathetic smile. “But I know things you don’t.”

I turned fully toward her now, eyes darkening. “What things?”

Vanessa hesitated, lowering her gaze just long enough to look vulnerable. “I promised myself I wouldn’t interfere in your life anymore. But I can’t just watch you get hurt.”

My patience was thinning. “Vanessa—”

“She lied to you.”

The words sliced cleanly through the air.

I blinked. “What?”

Vanessa nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to bring this up… but I overheard something. One of the staff mentioned it to me.” She leaned back, pretending conflict. “Apparently Ava’s been taking calls in private. Calls she doesn’t want you to know about.”

I stiffened. “That’s not true.”

“Is it?” Vanessa asked softly. “Do you even know who she talks to? Where she goes when she leaves the mansion? Who she meets?”

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

Of course I knew Ava left—to see her mother. But Vanessa didn’t know that. Elizabeth didn’t know. The staff didn’t know. Ava never told anyone but me.

But that didn’t stop Vanessa from twisting the narrative.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked, voice low with disappointment.

Vanessa turned to me, eyes glistening with emotion. “Because I know you. I know how easily you trust. And I know how fragile you are right now—even if you pretend otherwise.”

I hated how her words hit a nerve.

Vanessa moved closer, lowering her voice. “Damien… I care about you. I always have. I’m not your enemy.”

I scoffed. “You’re doing a good job pretending.”

Vanessa winced slightly. “I’m telling you this because I love you. Because I know what it’s like when you let the wrong people in.”

My jaw tightened. “Ava is not the wrong person.”

“And how do you know?” Vanessa whispered. “Because she smiles sweetly? Because she cooks? Because she pretends to understand your pain?”

I slammed the document on the table. “Enough.”

Vanessa flinched but didn’t back down. Instead, she lowered her voice even further.

“You said she was overwhelmed. Damien… women become overwhelmed when they’re hiding something.”

I pushed my wheelchair slightly back, trying to create distance between us.

Vanessa watched me, her expression softening. “Fine. I won’t push anymore. Just…” She reached for his hand. “Just be careful. Please.”

By the time Vanessa left the room, I felt drained. Her words echoed in my mind, unwanted and poisonous.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to believe Vanessa. I refused to. But doubt had already slipped into the cracks—uninvited and unwelcome.

I rolled toward Ava’s room, stopping in front of her door. I raised my hand to knock.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I leaned my forehead against the wooden frame and whispered,

“Ava… what’s happening to us?”