Chapter 66

Chapter 66

Ava’s POV

I barely slept.

Every time I drifted close to sleep, Vanessa’s words replayed behind my eyelids like a cruel lullaby.

I kept staring at the ceiling in the dark, my heart pounding painfully. Even the soft glow of the night lamp felt sharp, too bright, too exposing, as though the walls themselves were watching me unravel.

I curled up tighter in the bed Damien had told me to use, and for the first time since I entered the mansion, it didn’t feel like a privilege or a kindness.

It felt like a trap.

A cage I hadn’t noticed I walked into.

By the time morning sunlight trickled into the room, I felt hollow.

I forced herself up, wrapped my arms around my trembling body, and told myself to breathe. Today, I needed to stay calm. Today, I needed to pretend Vanessa’s words didn’t dig deep into my skin like claws.

But the truth was simple.

They did.

I could feel the bruises in my confidence.



When I stepped out into the hallway, I heard voices—Vanessa’s soft, practiced laugh and Damien’s low reply. I froze. I didn’t want to, but my feet refused to move. My body reacted on instinct to the sound of Vanessa speaking to him with ease, like she’d been doing for years.

Because she had.

I hovered in the hallway until they moved toward the sitting room. I quickly turned the opposite direction, walking fast, trying not to look over my shoulder. But my chest was tight, my stomach uneasy.

I hated this feeling—this shrinking, this uncertainty. Vanessa had planted something poisonous inside me, and it was growing fast.

I found myself in the kitchen. Sandra, the chef, noticed me immediately.

“Good morning,” Sandra greeted warmly. “You want breakfast?”

I forced a smile. “No, I’m fine. Just… water.”

Sandra’s brows creased. “Are you sure? You look pale.”

“I’m okay,” I whispered—mostly to myself.

Sandra handed me a glass, but before I could take a sip, Vanessa’s laughter drifted in again from the hall.

I stiffened.

Sandra noticed. “She’s a handful, isn’t she?”

My eyes widened. “You know her?”

Sandra nodded. “She used to come here often. Before…” She glanced around. “Before Damien’s accident.”

I swallowed hard. That detail hurt more than she expected.

Sandra continued, lowering her voice. “She always had something to say. Always in control. Always making decisions for Damien.”

I finally drank the water, trying to push away the ache. “She still seems… in control.”

Sandra gave her a sympathetic look. “She’s intimidating. Don’t let her get to you.”

But I was already gone inside myself.



I avoided the main rooms for hours. I moved like a ghost, drifting from one quiet corner to another. Every time Damien’s wheelchair hummed down the hallway, I ducked into another room. Every time I heard Vanessa’s voice, I found an exit.

It felt pathetic, but my pride had already taken too many hits to keep up its front.

At noon, Damien found me anyway.

I was sitting alone in the garden, fingers tracing aimless shapes on the table when I heard his voice behind me.

“Ava?”

I jumped slightly. Damien watched me, his eyes narrowed in concern.

“You didn’t come down for breakfast,” he said. “Or lunch.” He rolled closer. “Are you feeling sick?”

I shook my head quickly. “No. Just… tired.”

Damien didn’t look convinced. He placed his hands on his wheels. “Look at me.”

I hesitated, then slowly lifted my gaze. Damien studied me carefully.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

My lips parted. “I haven’t—”

“Yes, you have,” he said, voice soft but steady. “Something’s wrong.”

A lump formed in my throat. Tell him, a part of me urged. Tell him what she said. Tell him how she threatened you. Tell him you’re scared.

But the other part of me—the insecure part—the part Vanessa had poisoned—whispered something cruel.

What if Vanessa is right? What if Damien believes her over you? What if you say something, and it proves you’re emotional, unstable, dramatic? What if you give Vanessa exactly what she wants?

I looked down. “It’s nothing.”

Damien let out a slow breath. “Ava, I’m not stupid. Talk to me.”

I shook my head. “It’s really nothing.”

“How?” he pressed gently. “You look like someone ripped the ground from underneath you.”

I swallowed the sting of tears. “I’m fine. I just need some space.”

Damien stared at me, his expression tightening—not in anger, but frustration mixed with helplessness.

He reached out and touched my hand.

“You don’t have to deal with things alone,” he said quietly.

I felt the warmth of his touch, and my heart cracked.

I wanted to lean into it. I wanted to believe him.

But the doubt Vanessa planted took hold again.

I gently pulled my hand back.

Damien blinked. “Ava…?”

I shook my head. “I just… I need a minute. Please.”

Damien’s jaw clenched. “Is this about Vanessa?”

I froze.

He noticed.

Damien exhaled slowly. “I knew it. She said something to you.”

I stiffened. “She didn’t.”

Damien’s voice dropped. “Ava.”

I hugged my arms around myself. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“But it shouldn’t!” I burst out before I could stop myself. I caught myself, lowering my voice. “Sorry. I just… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Damien stared at me for a long moment, and for the first time since I had known him, he looked lost.

“Ava… don’t shut me out.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them. “I’m not trying to. I’m just confused right now.”

Damien moved closer. “Let me help.”

I shook my head. “You can’t.”

“But I want to.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Damien… I’m trying not to be a problem.”

“You’re not a problem,” he said firmly.

But the word Vanessa used echoed louder in my mind.

I stood abruptly. “I need to be alone.”

Damien let out a sharp exhale, hurt flickering across his face, but he didn’t stop me. He only watched as I walked away—my shoulders shaking, my steps uneven.



I went to my room and closed the door quietly, pressing my back against it as my body finally gave in. Tears streamed down my face silently. I didn’t sob. I didn’t wail. My heart was too heavy for that.

I just cried quietly, painfully.

Vanessa’s words had done something worse than insult.

They made me question everything—my worth, my place in Damien’s life, and whether I had ever meant anything to him at all.

I wrapped my arms around myself, sinking to the floor.

“I can’t lose myself here,” I whispered brokenly.

But the truth was undeniable.

I already was.

The seeds of insecurity had been planted.

And now…

They were growing.