Chapter 45 Her Sobs

Chapter 45 Her Sobs
Damian stood behind Elena’s door, his hand pressed lightly against the smooth oak surface.

From inside came a sound he hated, her soft sobs.

He didn’t need to open the door to see her. He could picture her perfectly, sitting at the edge of her bed, her hands over her face, her shoulders trembling as she tried to hold in the sound.

Every choked breath and every broken sigh twisted something deep inside him that he didn’t know existed anymore.

It was infuriating.

Not because of her.

Because of him.

Victor Lancaster.

The man who had stolen everything from his family was now the reason Elena’s eyes were red and swollen. He was the reason her voice trembled at dinner. The reason she was forced to smile when her heart wanted to scream.

And the thought that Victor had used his own daughter’s marriage as a tool for his endless power games, that he could sell her happiness like a business deal, made Damian’s blood burn.

He clenched his fists tightly.

He remembered how it had felt when Victor had shaken his hand earlier that evening, that smug, victorious look in his eyes as though he owned not just the mansion, but everyone in it. Including her, his daughter.

He doesn’t deserve her tears, Damian thought bitterly. He doesn’t deserve to call her his daughter.

And yet, what right did he have to care?
He was here for one reason... revenge.
Everything else was a distraction.
Especially Elena Lancaster.

But no matter how many times he told himself that, the sound of her crying cracked through the armor he had spent years building.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to step away from the door. “Don’t,” he whispered to himself. “Don’t get involved.”

But he couldn’t sleep.

Even when he finally reached his own room, his mind refused to rest. He sat on the edge of his bed, his elbows on his knees, staring at the dim glow of the lamp.

Her face kept flashing before him, the way she smiled earlier at dinner even though her eyes looked hollow, the tremor in her voice when she said goodnight to Caspian.

And that fake smile. God, that fake smile.

He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling.

He hated himself for this weakness, for feeling something... Something human. Something he had promised himself he’d never allow again.

Just then, there was a soft knock on the door.

He didn’t move.

He didn’t need to.

He already knew who it was.

Another knock, this time gentler, hesitant.

He stood up and opened the door.

And there she was... Elena, barefoot. Her silk nightgown brushes the floor. Her eyes were red from crying, and her cheeks still damp.

Her lips parted slightly as she whispered, “Can I… please come in?”

Damian froze. For the past few nights, she had walked into his room without asking, bold and unafraid, teasing, testing him, stealing kisses, and watching him fight himself to stay away. But tonight was different. She wasn’t teasing. There was no mischief in her eyes. Only pain. And she even requested to come inside.

He stepped aside silently.

She walked in slowly, like she was afraid to break something fragile. The room was dimly lit by the lamp on the bedside table, but she could see everything clearly enough.

Damian closed the door behind her, and before he could even say a word, she turned and hugged him.

Her arms wrapped around his waist tightly. Her head was buried against his chest. And then came the sound again, the sound that made his heart twist.

Sobs.

Raw, unfiltered, and painful.

He stood stiff at first, unsure what to do, his hands hovering midair. For someone who had spent his life dealing with betrayal, death, and vengeance, this, this fragile, trembling woman in his arms, felt like something he wasn’t built for.

But when she whispered, “I can’t take it anymore,” his resolve broke.

Slowly, he placed his hands on her back and pulled her closer.
“Shh,” he murmured, his voice low. “It’s okay.”

Elena shook her head, still crying. “No, it’s not. He... he wants to sell me, Damian. To marry me off to someone for his stupid business.” Her voice broke even further. “He doesn’t care what I want. He never has. I’m just his puppet.”

Her fingers clutched his shirt tightly, as though afraid he’d vanish if she let go.

Damian didn’t speak. He just couldn’t. Words would mean nothing right now. All he could do was hold her, one hand on her back, the other gently brushing through her hair.

Elena cried harder. Each sob cut through him like a blade.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Time stopped mattering.

When her body finally started trembling less, he realized how small she felt in his arms. How vulnerable. How… human.

At that moment, Damian felt something other than anger. Something terrifyingly real... Attraction.