Chapter 77

Chapter 77
The storm we buried beneath.

The night was unnaturally quiet, save for the rhythmic rap of rain against the grand windows of Damian’s estate. The storm outside mirrored the storm within me. I stood in the hallway, my fingers trembling as they hovered over the mahogany leading to Damian’s office. 

I discovered something. Something that can’t wait. My heart pounded as my other hand clutched the file I wasn’t supposed to have found. 

Inside, Damian’s deep voice barked orders on the phone, his tone sharp and ruthless.

“Make sure Ricci doesn’t wake up tomorrow morning,” he snapped. “He’s crossed the line.”

My breath hitched. Every time I thought I’d know how deep the darkness in Damian ran, he sinks further. Yet I couldn’t stop loving him. That was the sickest part. Even now, as he orchestrated someone’s death. 

The call ended. 

I pushed open the door 

Damian looked up from behind his desk, his cold expression softening only slightly when his eyes meet mine. “You shouldn’t barge in like that.”

I stepped forward, tossing the file onto his desk. 

His eyes dropped to it. His jaw tightened.

“You were spying on me?” He asked, voice dangerously low. 

“No,” I said, my voice cracking. “I was looking for the truth.”

The file contained surveillance photos, offshore bank records, and a letter. The letter was what gutted me most.

It was from my father. And it was dated two days before his death.

“I found it in one of your secured drawers. Password protected. Hidden under lies.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation for what I protect, Claire,” Damian said, pushing the file aside. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

I stepped closer, tears clinging to my lashes. “Why were you tracking my father? You knew he was in danger.”

“I was protecting you,” he growled, standing now. “Your father he was about to sell you to Ivanov. He struck a deal to save his falling business.”

I blinked, disoriented. “No. No, my father would never..”

“He would,” Damian interrupted. “And he did. I intercepted the deal. That’s how this contract marriage came to be. I had to bind you to me, legally, before Ivanov claimed you.”

My knees buckled. “You’re lying.” 

“I wish I were.”

He walked around his desk, towering me over now. “He wasn’t innocent, Claire. But he loved you. That much is true. And I sphered him, even when I could have destroyed him.”

“Then why is he dead?” I whispered. 

Damian flicked. 

“You know something,” I said, stepping back. “Tell me.”

Damian’s silence roared louder than thunder. 

I staggered away, my heart splintering. “You promised me if I married you, I’d get answers. Instead I got secrets and manipulation.”

“I kept you alive,” he said, following me out of the office. “That’s more than anyone else was willing to do for you.”

I turned to him on the staircase. “I would’ve chosen death over being owned.”

A shadow crossed his face. “Then maybe you should’ve let me die that night.”

Silence. 

My breath caught. “What?” 

Damian’s voice was low. “Three years ago. That alley. You remember the man you saved from the hitman?” 

My knees nearly gave away. 

“You always wondered why I chose you. Why I married you, of all women.” He looked straight into me. “Because I owed you my life.”

Tears poured freely now. “You…you were that man?” 

“Yes,” he said. “And I’ve been watching you ever since.”

My world tilted. The puzzle piece rearranged themselves into a new, grotesque picture. The contract marriage, the obsession, the control wasn’t just mafia politics. It was debt. It was guilt. It was love. Twisted and born in blood. 

“You could’ve told me,” I choked. 

“You weren’t ready,” he whispered. 

“And now?” I asked, voice hollow. 

Damian closed the distance between us and cupped my face. “Now I’m begging you not to walk away.” 

I stared at his eyes, those ice-blue oceans of agony and desire. “You said you saved me. But you broke me.”

“I’d break the world for you,” he whispered. “And then rebuild it with my bare hands.”

I closed my eyes. “I don’t know if it’s love…or madness.”

“Maybe it’s both,” he admitted. 

Later that night, I stood in the guest wing, looking out over the storm ridden garden. The weight of truths unraveled inside me. Damian crafted my work out of lies. But even those lies had protected me. Can I hate the man who destroyed everything in order to keep me?

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock. 

Lucia.

I blinked, confused. “What are you doing here?”

Lucia stepped inside, her posture stiff. “I need to talk to you. Alone.”

We sat across each other in tense of silence before Lucia said. “You deserve to know everything about your father’s death.”

My pulse raced. 

“He was planning to leave the country,” Lucia continued. “But someone tipped off Ivanov. That someone…was me.”

The confession crashed through like a tidal wave.

“I didn’t know Ivanov would kill him,” Lucia said. “I just wanted him out of the way. I wanted Damian for myself.”

I could barely breathe. 

“I regret it every single day,” Lucia whispered. “But Damian doesn’t know it was me. He thinks Ivonav acted alone.”

I stood. “Why are you telling me now?”

Lucia’s eyes shimmered. “Because you deserve to hate the right person.”

My world burned anew. The betrayal didn’t stop with Damian. It spread like a virus through blood, through lust, and through secrets.

Lucia turned to leave but turned at the door. “You think you’re the only one who’s ever been used, Claire? We all paid a price to survive in his world. Mine just happens to be guilt.”

The next morning, I sat across from Damian at the breakfast table, the silence between us was thunderous. 

“I’m leaving tonight,” I said calmly. 

He froze. “Where?”

“Somewhere you can’t control.”

Damian stood, rage cracking beneath his palm surface. “Don’t test me, Claire.”

“You already did,” I snapped. “And I failed.”

I turned to go, but he reached for my wrist. “I can’t let you walk away, not like this.”

I met his gaze. “Then let me go. And I’ll decide if I’ll come back.”

His jaw clenched. “You won’t.”

“Maybe not,” I said, pulling free. “But if you love me, you’ll let me choose,”

And for the first time in years, Damian didn’t issue a threat. Didn’t chase. He stood in silence, watching the woman he would burn empires for…walk away from him.

Hours later, I stood on the tumarc the private jet Damian assigned to me was waiting. Beside me, a single suitcase held everything was willing to take from his world. 

My phone buzzed. 

Damian: don’t look back. If you do, I’ll be coming for you.”

I didn’t reply. 

Instead, I boarded the plane. 

As the engine roared to life, I looked out the window at the fading Silhouette of the mansion of a love I couldn’t define, of a man I couldn’t forgive, and of a truth that had reshaped me forever.