Chapter 26 Behind watchful mask

Chapter 26 Behind watchful mask
Chapter 26 – Damien’s POV
The footage ends with her whispering my name. A whisper that sounds like an accusation.
I lean back in the chair, watching the blank monitor reflect my face. The control room is dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of a dozen security feeds. Each screen captures a different corner of the mansion I built to keep danger out and, ironically, to trap myself inside.
She’s asleep now, or pretending to be. Her body is still, but her hand rests over her chest like she’s trying to keep her heart from breaking out of her ribs. I exhale slowly, the sound too loud in the quiet room.
She found the flash drive. Of course she did.
Adrian warned me days ago that keeping anything related to her father's project here was reckless. But I needed it close. Too much has already been buried under corporate lies, encrypted servers, and my father’s ghost. I couldn’t risk losing that final proof of what really happened.
The feed flickers again, the red light blinking once, and then stabilizes. I opened a private channel.
“Adrian,” I say, my voice low.
Seconds later, his voice crackles through the line. “Sir?”
“She found the drive.”
A pause. Then a quiet sigh. “I thought you said you locked that drawer.”
“I did.”
“Then she picked it.”
I rub a hand over my face. “She’s smarter than I expected.”
“Or more desperate,” he replies. “You want me to restrict her access?”
“No.” My tone is sharper than I intend. “I’ll handle it.”
“Handle it how? By watching her spiral deeper into a truth that could kill her?”
I don’t answer. Because I know he’s right.
Elena isn’t supposed to be part of this war. She stumbled into it by chasing a story that was already poisoned. Her father wasn’t the victim she thinks he was. And if she keeps digging, if she exposes the wrong name the same people who destroyed him will come for her.
I can’t let that happen.
“She can’t leave the house tomorrow,” I say finally.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“And if she insists?”
“Then I’ll tail her,” Adrian says without hesitation. “You think she suspects?”
“She knows something’s off,” I admit. “But she doesn’t know enough to run. Not yet.”
A silence stretches between us, heavy with what we both understand but never say aloud. Protecting Elena means lying to her, watching her and controlling her every move. It’s the only way to keep her alive.
When I end the call, the clock reads 2:47 a.m. I turn back to the monitors. She’s restless now, tossing beneath the sheets. The flicker of the bedside lamp catches her face which looks peaceful, unaware of how close she came tonight to the truth that could destroy her.
I reach for the whiskey bottle on the table beside me and pour a measure into the glass. The amber liquid burns as it hits my throat, but I welcome the pain because it's familiar and predictable.
Unlike her.
The first time I met Elena Martin, she was standing in a crowd of reporters, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. She asked the kind of question that told me she wasn’t just chasing headlines. She was chasing blood, my blood and family’s.
And now, somehow, she’s in my house, on my bed. In my world and my life.
Not by accident.
I glance at the feed again. She’s still. The camera zooms slightly, adjusting focus. I see the faint outline of the notebook on her nightstand. I know what’s written inside. Her investigation logs, the fragments she’s pieced together.
I’ve read them all.
That’s why I can’t sleep.
Because every word she writes brings her closer to a truth I’ve spent years burying under boardroom walls and silence.
The next morning, Adrian meets me in the east hall. He’s holding his tablet, eyes scanning the latest security summary. “She hasn’t left her room,” he reports. “But she’s awake.”
“Good.”
He hesitates. “You really think it’s necessary? This much surveillance? She’s not a threat anymore.”
“She’s not the threat,” I correct him. “The people watching her are.”
He frowns. “You think your father’s old partners are still—”
“They never stopped,” I cut in. “The night she published that first article, I started getting calls. Anonymous. Familiar voices hiding behind static. They want what’s left of that project, and they think she has it.”
Adrian’s jaw tightens. “And does she?”
“No.” I glance toward the staircase. “But she has the instincts to find it.”
He studies me for a long moment. “You care about her.”
I turn to him, my expression flat. “I protect what’s mine.”
He gives a faint, knowing smile. “That’s not what I asked.”
I don’t respond.
“Fine,” he says, shaking his head. “You want me to follow her if she leaves?”
“Yes. Stay close but unseen. Don’t let her out of your sight. If anyone tries to approach her, handle it quietly.”
Adrian nods. “Understood.”
“Good. And Adrian?”
He pauses. “Yes, sir?”
“Don’t underestimate her.”
He smirks faintly. “I wouldn't dream of it.”
Hours later, I find myself in the study, the same one where I cornered her last night. The faint scent of her perfume lingers in the air, light but inescapable. It clings to the edges of my mind like a ghost.
The flash drive is still on the desk, exactly where she dropped it. I pick it up and turn it over in my fingers. A simple piece of plastic and metal, yet capable of detonating everything I’ve built.
I plug it into the laptop, scrolling through the files she saw. She was right to be confused. The phrasing is deliberate, cooperation, transfer, secured. Words my father used to sanitize corruption.
The truth buried here isn’t about her father’s betrayal. It’s about what happened after.
My father used him, manipulated his designs and then discarded him when he refused to continue. The official story was suicide under pressure. Just another lie to protect the Cade legacy and she knows it. 
So while I’ve spent the last five years cleaning the blood he left behind, she was trying to dig it up. 
I close the file, jaw tight. She doesn’t need to carry this. Not yet. If she sees the full picture too soon, she’ll run straight into the fire. And this time, I won’t be able to pull her out.
A soft sound breaks my thoughts; the faint creak of a floorboard outside the door. I glance toward the hallway just in time to see her shadow pass.
Elena.
I wait silently, listening to her footsteps fade down the corridor.
She’s heading toward the front door.
I open my phone and dial. “Adrian. She’s moving.”
“I see her,” he answers. “She’s dressed to go out.”
“Follow her. Don’t let her notice you.”
“You think she’s testing you?”
“I think she’s bait.”
A pause crackles through the line. “Copy that.”
I hang up and stare at the empty hallway beyond the study.
She thinks I’m controlling her out of ego, and out of power. But the truth is simpler, and uglier. Every person I’ve ever cared for has been used against me. My father taught me that love is a liability, that compassion invites betrayal.
He was right, until her.
Now I’m breaking my own rules to keep her safe, and it terrifies me.
I pour another glass of whiskey and set it aside untouched. The monitors hum softly as Adrian’s body camera feed appears on the screen. Elena walks through the market district, her hair catching the light, her expression distant. Normal. Innocent.
But there, just behind her, a man in a gray coat lingers too long at a stall, his gaze fixed on her.
“Adrian,” I say, tightening my grip on the desk. “Do you see him?”
“Yes.”
“Stay between them.”
Adrian moves closer in the feed. The man notices, slips away into the crowd. Elena never looks back.
My pulse steadies, but the dread doesn’t fade. Someone’s watching her besides me. Someone who knows exactly what she’s worth.
The line buzzes again. “She’s heading home,” Adrian says. “Safe so far.”
“Good,” I reply, but the word tastes hollow.
Because I know this isn’t over. It’s only the beginning.