Chapter 45: RESTORING CONFIRMATION

Victoria Wolfe was standing in the doorway, her sharp eyes glittering with something far more menacing than curiosity, her presence smothering.

"You didn’t *really* think this was over, did you?"

My heart struck my ribs hard.

My voice had to remain even as I tightened the robe about myself. "What do you want?"

Victoria's shoes clicked on the marble floor as she entered, exuding a sense of ownership.

"I come to remind you," she added with ease, "that love is a weakness, Lyra. One that, if you allow it, *will* ruin you.

I tensed up. "Is that a threat?"

She grinned. "A warning."

Even before I saw Damian, I sensed his presence.

His bodily heat. The air was becoming razor-sharp with shifting tension.

"Get out," he said in a low, deadly voice.

Victoria remained unflinching. She smirked slowly as she turned to face him. "You’re getting soft, Damian."

He balled his fists. "And you’re still as heartless as ever."

She gave a little laugh of amusement. "Oh, Damian. Don't you believe that you love her? Her eyes were piercing as she glanced at me. "Tell me, Lyra, do *you* love him?"

It was a stomach punch of a question.

My throat constricted.

I didn't respond.

Victoria grinned more broadly. "That’s what I thought."

Damian stepped forward. "Leave. Now."

With a dramatic sigh, she pivoted on her heel. She muttered, "This will all fall apart soon enough," and turned to leave. "And when it does… don’t say I didn’t warn you."

She vanished down the corridor.

I shakily exhaled the instant she was gone.

However, Damian—

He continued to gaze at me.

And I was aware.

He had heard the quiet.

The response I was unable to provide.

I sat on the edge of the bed with my fingers tangled in the sheets, and neither of us said anything.

Damian was standing close to the window, his body rigid, his face unreadable.

At last, he turned. "You don’t trust me."

There was no question.

I took a deep breath. "I don’t *know* how to trust you, Damian."

He clenched his jaw.

The words "You lied to me," I muttered. "You withheld information from me. You allowed me to into this mess without warning. And now—" My voice cracked. "I don’t know what’s real anymore."

He ran a hand through his dark hair and let out a deep exhale. "You *are* real, Lyra. *We* are real."

I gave a headshake. "Then why does it feel like I’m losing myself?"

The words weighed heavy and oppressive between us.

He took three steps across the room before kneeling in front of me and placing his hands on my thighs.

He said, "You're not losing yourself." "You're *discovering* who you are. And it frightens you to no end."

I gasped.

Now his eyes were gentler. No conceit. No walls.

Only Damian.

*Real.* Unadulterated. Raw

"I don’t want to be afraid," I said.

He lifted his hand and brushed a lock of hair away from my face. "Then don’t be."

I laughed resentfully. "It’s not that simple."

"It can be." He looked at me. "Let me show you, Lyra."

My heart struck my ribs hard.

I *wanted* to believe him because of this. To release.

To drop.

However, another component?

Still, it cried out for me to flee.

So I didn't respond.

Rather, I breathed him in by leaning forward and pushing my forehead against his.

Furthermore, for the first time in a long time—

I let myself simply *be*.

I was entangled in Damian's arms when I woke up the following morning.

Not out of passion. Not in a desperate situation.

Simply *together*.

His warmth encircled me, and his breathing was regular.

And the maelstrom inside of me felt... calm for the first time in weeks.

However, quiet did not imply absence.

Even though I wanted to think that things could be easy, I knew otherwise.

It didn't just *happen* to be trusted.

It needed to be rebuilt.

One brick at a time.

Second by second.

And that?

It would require time.

I tried to sit up as I moved in his arms.

But Damian's hold tightened before I could get away. "Where are you going?" Sleep had roughened his speech.

I paused. "I just need some air."

His dark, unfathomable eyes opened.

For a moment, he held on.

Then he relaxed his hold gradually.

"Okay," he quietly said.

It was a little matter.

However, it was crucial.

Because I wasn't being *controlled* by Daniel for the first time.

I had his *trust*.

And perhaps—just perhaps—I could learn to follow suit.

I ended up standing outside Damian's office later that afternoon.

I paused.

Then I pushed the door open before I could talk myself out of it.

His brows lifted in astonishment as he looked up from his desk. "Lyra."

I shut the door behind me and went inside.

When I said, "I want to see the files,"

He didn't act as though he didn't comprehend.

He studied me, leaning back in his chair. "Are you sure?"

I gave a nod.

He pulled out a big binder from a drawer without saying anything.

Then—

He moved it over the desk.

I reached for it with trembling hands and swallowed deeply.

For this reason?

It was this.

An action that leads to trust.

The beginning of anything *real*.

Furthermore, I wasn't sure if I was prepared.

But I had to try.

That night, I sat in the library, reading through the files.

Each page was a dagger to the heart.

But at least now—I knew the truth.

At least now—I wasn’t in the dark.

I closed the folder, exhaling shakily.

And that’s when I saw it.

Beneath the files was a single folded piece of paper.

I opened it with a frown.

My blood became icy.

Damian wasn't the source.

Victoria wasn't the source.

It came from another person.

*Lyra, you're playing a risky game. Be mindful of your back.

My heart was racing.

Given that if there was one thing I was convinced of—

This was not the end of it.

Not even close.