Chapter 45 Three Months
Damien sat alone in his home office, the room lit only by the warm glow of a desk lamp and the faint moonlight slipping through the tall glass windows behind him.
The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass—alive, restless, unaware of the war raging inside his chest.
In his hand was a thin folder.
Inside it lay the contract.
His contract.
Their contract.
Damien leaned back in his chair and opened it slowly, as though the pages might bite him. His long fingers skimmed over the typed words he already knew by heart.
Six months.
Six months of marriage.
Six months of ownership disguised as protection.
His eyes narrowed as they landed on the date.
Three months had already passed.
Only three remained.
His jaw tightened.
Three months.
That was all the time he had left with her before the law decided she no longer belonged to him.
For three months, he had played a careful game—circling Jasmine like a predator pretending to be harmless.
He had kept his distance, had restrained himself, had convinced himself patience would be enough. He had not wanted to frighten her. Not wanted to cage her too tightly too soon.
But time had slipped through his fingers like water.
Now he knew better.
Now he understood what it meant to wake up in a house that no longer felt empty.
Jasmine had filled his cold halls with warmth. With laughter.
With life.
With color.
Her footsteps echoed through his mansion like music. Her scent lingered on the furniture. Her presence softened the edges of a world he had ruled alone for far too long.
And now that he had tasted what it felt like to have her inside his home, inside his space, inside his life—
He could never go back.
Damien closed the folder slowly and pressed it against the desk.
“She won’t leave me,” he murmured to the silence.
But even as he said the words, doubt whispered in the back of his mind.
There was something about Jasmine that remained untouched. Something hidden behind her smiles and her gentleness. A shadow that followed her wherever she went.
She was running from something.
Someone.
Damien knew it.
He had seen it the night her face appeared on the news—the way her body had frozen, the way panic had clawed its way out of her chest, the way she had collapsed into fear like a frightened child.
Who was she so afraid of?
What kind of past could still haunt her that deeply?
He had ordered investigations. Private searches. Quiet inquiries. But for now, he had abandoned them. Not because he had lost interest—but because he feared what he might find.
And because… perhaps he did not want to know.
He had used her fear to bind her to him. He had offered protection in exchange for a signature. A cage made of silk and gold.
But was that truly all this was now?
A contract?
Or had something far more dangerous grown between them?
Damien lifted the contract again and stared at the words like they were mocking him.
Six months
.
His lips curled into something sharp.
“No,” he said softly. “Forever.”
A heavy knock suddenly thundered against the office door.
Damien’s head snapped up.
“Come in,” he commanded.
The door opened slowly, and Raymond stepped inside.
His face was expressionless, but his posture was rigid. Tense. Controlled.
Damien frowned immediately.
Raymond was never expressionless unless something was wrong.
He closed the door behind him and walked forward without a word, stopping a few feet from the desk before sitting down in the chair opposite Damien.
Silence stretched between them.
Damien leaned back slightly. “Why do you look like you’re attending a funeral?”
Raymond did not smile.
“I want to talk about Jasmine.”
The name struck Damien’s chest like a bullet.
His eyes sharpened. “And why would you do that?”
Raymond folded his hands together. “Because I see the way you look at her.”
Damien’s brow arched in amusement. “You observe too much.”
“I observe enough,” Raymond replied coolly. “The glances. The way you stand too close. The way your eyes follow her like she belongs to you.”
Damien smirked.
“She does belong to me.”
Raymond inhaled slowly, as if steadying himself. “I found her first.”
The words landed heavier than expected.
Damien tilted his head. “Explain.”
“She was employed because of me,” Raymond said. “I wanted her close. I wanted to protect her. I wanted her for myself.”
Damien’s smirk vanished.
His jaw tightened.
“And yet,” Damien said coldly, “she is my wife now.”
Raymond’s eyes darkened. “For six months.”
Damien stood abruptly from his chair.
The room seemed to shift with his movement.
“She is mine,” Damien said. “Now and after the contract expires.”
Raymond shook his head. “You used her fear to trap her. The media. Her past. You cornered her into signing.”
Damien’s eyes turned dangerous.
“The method does not matter,” he said quietly. “The result does.”
Raymond rose to his feet as well. “She did not choose you freely.”
“She chose survival,” Damien snapped. “And survival chose me.”
Raymond stared at him. “She does not share whatever twisted feeling you have for her.”
Damien laughed once—low and amused.
“If that is true,” he said, “then why have we shared more than a few kisses?”
Raymond’s jaw tightened visibly.
“That was manipulation,” Raymond said. “You are the safest option she sees. But I will tell her the truth. I will let her know she has a choice. I will be there for her.”
Something dark flickered in Damien’s eyes.
“You will stay away from her.”
Raymond shook his head. “May the best man win.”
Damien stepped closer.
His voice dropped into something lethal.
“She is infatuated with me,” Damien said. “And I am enamored by her. I will make her mine. I will keep her with me.”
Raymond met his gaze unflinching. “We shall see.”
He turned and walked out.
The door slammed shut.
Silence returned.
Damien stood frozen for a long moment before slowly sitting back down.
His fingers curled into fists.
No one touched what was his.
No one challenged what he had claimed.
And no one—absolutely no one—would take Jasmine away from him.
He opened the contract again.
Three months.
He would make them count.