Chapter 63 MY LIFE.
\~~~SERENA.
The cafeteria buzzed with the usual midday chatter of students grabbing trays, laughing over notes, and the clink of forks on plates. I sat across from Maya at our favorite corner table, picking at my salad while she devoured a burger like it was her last meal. The scandalous article about Ryan and me had been the talk of campus for days, but today felt different and lighter.
"So, spill it," Maya said, wiping ketchup from her chin. "What's the latest on that trashy piece? I saw the updates online and people are flipping sides now."
I nodded, pushing a cherry tomato around my plate. "Yeah, it's crazy. Damien's team made it seem forged and boom public opinion shifted overnight. Comments are calling it a smear campaign, and everyone's backing off. Even the tabloids retracted it."
Maya's eyes widened, her fry pausing halfway to her mouth. "See? Told you your hubby had it handled. Damien's like this alpha male straight out of a novel. He shut that mess down in less than five hours. Poof and gone. The guy is a force."
I smiled, a warm flutter in my chest at the thought of him. "He is pretty amazing," I admitted. "I didn't expect it to blow over this fast."
Maya leaned in, grinning mischievously. "Okay, enough about the drama. How was the honeymoon? You vanished for two weeks, give me the dirt. Did you two... You know?"
My cheeks heated up instantly. I glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping. The cafeteria was packed, but our spot felt semi-private. "Maya! Keep it down."
She waved it off, eyes sparkling. "Come on, bestie. Details!"
I took a deep breath, the memories flooding back to the yacht, the stars, and the mindblowing sex. "Fine. It was... intense. We had sex. A lot. On the deck, under the night sky. It was like something out of a dream."
Maya let out a high-pitched scream, clapping her hands. Heads turned our way, and I buried my face in my hands, blushing furiously. "Shh! Oh my God, Maya, people are staring!"
She burst out laughing, not even trying to quiet down. "Sorry, sorry! But that is huge! Your fake marriage turning steamy? Iconic."
I peeked through my fingers, still red-faced. "I know it shouldn’t happen. I really tried resisting it. This was supposed to be just an arrangement, remember? But..."
Maya laughed even harder, nearly knocking over her soda. "Resisting? Girl, please. Did you enjoy it? Be honest."
I bit my lip, the truth bubbling up. "Yes. God, yes. It was mind-blowing. And now... I don't know. I yearn for him more every day. Like, this marriage might become real. More than we planned. He's not just the contract guy anymore."
Her laughter softened into a teasing smile. "Aw, Serena's falling for the billionaire. Nothing bad in that. Embrace it! He is hot, protective, and clearly into you. Why fight the sparks?"
I rolled my eyes, but her words hit home. Maybe she was right. The walls I'd built were crumbling, and part of me didn't mind. "You are impossible."
We finished our food amid more giggles, the conversation shifting to classes and weekend plans. As the lunch rush thinned, we gathered our bags and headed out. The sun warmed the campus paths, leaves crunching under our shoes.
"Text me later?" Maya said at the fork in the road, pulling me into a quick hug.
"Definitely. Thank you."
She winked. "Anytime. Go conquer that wedge between you and hubby."
I watched her go, shaking my head with a smile, then made my way to the parking lot.
My driver, Mark, waited by the sleek black sedan, the door already open. "Afternoon, Mrs. Hale," he said politely.
"Hi, Mark."
The drive home was smooth, the city blurring past in a haze of traffic and skyscrapers. I scrolled through my phone, liking a few supportive messages from friends. The article fallout still stung, but the tide had turned. Damien had made sure of it.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, it was past four. The villa stood quiet and grand, its white facade glowing in the afternoon light.
I thanked Mark and headed inside, kicking off my shoes in the foyer. The house felt empty without him, but in a comforting way. I freshened up first, changed into comfy jeans and a soft sweater. Hunger tugged at me, but instead of heading to the kitchen to microwave a meal, curiosity pulled me elsewhere.
His study.
I'd always respected his space, but today, something nagged at me.
I slipped down the hall, the door slightly ajar as always when he was out.
The room smelled like him, leather, faint cologne, and polished wood. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, packed with thick volumes. I trailed my fingers over the spines. Business strategies, legal tomes, and histories of empires. I shook my head, chuckling softly. "What a man," I murmured. Nothing fun here, no romances, no thrillers.
Just serious stuff that screamed Damien.
Bored, I wandered, hand gliding along the edge of a shelf. The wall behind it felt... off. Smoother, almost hollow. I paused, pressing my palm flat. It didn't give like the others. Curiosity, that law student's curse, kicked in.
I knocked once on the left, and there was a solid thud. Another one on the right, and there was a faint echo.
My heart picked up. A hidden space?
I glanced at the door, half-expecting Damien to walk in.
Biting my lip, I pushed gently on the panel. It swung inward with a soft click, revealing a narrow compartment. I gasped, hand flying to my mouth.
I shouldn't invade his privacy. This was his domain, his space.
‘Turn away, Serena,’ my conscience bugged me.
But my eyes snagged on something inside, a photo pinned to a board.
I, smiling at a coffee shop, unaware of the camera.
Frozen, I stepped in fully. The hidden nook was like a mini archive of files, notes, and more pictures.
My breath caught as I scanned them. One dated three years ago, me outside my old apartment, hair in a ponytail, backpack slung over my shoulder. Another from two years back, laughing with friends at a park.
"What is..." I mumbled, stomach twisting.
Then, worse.
Photos of Ryan and me. Our first anniversary, candles on a cake, his arm around me. Second, beach vacation, sandy toes, and sunset kisses. Third—dinner at a restaurant, toasting with wine.
Damien had captured it all, like a shadow watching from afar.
But the real gut punch was pictures of Ryan. With Lisa. One showed them in a car, her hand on his thigh. Another, months later, Lisa's belly was swollen, pregnant, and Ryan's face as he glanced away.
Stamped dates confirmed it and it was right from the start of our relationship.
"What the hell?" My face drained of color, and my knees weakened.
I gripped the shelf to steady myself. Damien had been tracking me for four whole years? Piecing together my life, my mistakes, and Ryan's betrayal even before I knew?
He'd known about the infidelity from the beginning. All those times Ryan lied, snuck around... Damien had the proof, hidden away.
Why?
My mind raced, pieces clicking. This arranged marriage wasn't random, he'd been watching, and waiting.
The protectiveness, the quick shutdown of the article... it all stemmed from this obsession. I wasn't just a solution to his problem. I was his fixation.
Does that even make sense?
Tears pricked my eyes, a mix of betrayal and confusion. Part of me wanted to confront him, and demand answers. Another part, the one that yearned for him, wondered what this truly meant.
Possessiveness, or, obsession?
I backed out slowly, closing the panel with trembling hands. The study felt colder now, and the books were mocking me.
I should have just gone to eat, fuck.