Chapter 230

CHAPTER 230

BRIELLE

The next day came too quickly.

I stood outside the secure visitation room at the detention center, heart hammering against my ribs. My hand rested protectively on my belly, feeling Aurora’s steady kicks as if she could sense the tension rolling off me. Damien stood beside me, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, his body still stiff from the injuries. The bruises on his jaw had darkened overnight, and I could see the faint outline of bandages beneath his shirt. He looked like he had walked through hell and back — which he had — but his eyes were sharp and protective as they scanned the hallway.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly, voice low and strained. His hand tightened on my hip. “You don’t have to do this. I can go in alone. Or we can turn around right now. You don’t owe her anything.”

I looked up at him, swallowing hard. His face was a mix of worry and barely contained rage. I knew he didn’t want me anywhere near her. But I needed this. I needed to face the woman who had taken him from me, who had twisted my words into a weapon.

“I’ve got this,” I said softly, squeezing his hand. “Don’t worry. I need to do this. For me. For us. For Aurora. Just… stay close, okay? But let me talk first.”

He searched my eyes for a long moment, jaw tight, then nodded reluctantly. “You say the word and I’m right there. One wrong move from her and we’re done.”

I nodded, then stepped forward as the guard opened the door.

The room was small and sterile — gray walls, a metal table bolted to the floor, two chairs. The woman — Elena Voss, according to the file Jack had sent us — was already seated on the other side of the table, hands cuffed to the metal bar in front of her. She was in her late thirties, with pale, almost translucent skin, dark circles under her wide, unblinking eyes, and matted dark hair falling around her shoulders. She wore an orange jumpsuit that hung loosely on her slight frame. But the moment her eyes landed on me, her entire face lit up with a feverish, almost childlike excitement.

“Oh… Brielle,” she breathed, leaning forward as far as the cuffs would allow. Her voice was the same high-pitched, sing-song tone from the phone calls. “You came. You actually came to see me. I knew you would. I knew you’d understand.”

Damien stiffened beside me, his hand tightening on my waist. I felt his body shift forward instinctively, but I gently pressed my hand to his chest, stopping him.

“Don’t worry,” I whispered to him. “I’ve got this.”

He hesitated, eyes dark with warning, but he stayed back, standing just behind me like a shadow.

I stepped closer to the table, keeping a safe distance but close enough to look her in the eyes. Elena’s gaze flicked to Damien for a split second, and her expression twisted — excitement turning into pure, venomous hatred.

“You,” she spat at him, voice dripping with disgust. “The Shadow King. You shouldn’t be here. You don’t deserve to stand next to her. You’re the reason she’s trapped. You’re the darkness.”

Damien’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak. I could feel the tension radiating off him, but he stayed silent, letting me lead.

I took a slow breath and focused on her. “Elena… that’s your name, right? I came here because I need you to understand something. My book… The Veiled Heart… it wasn’t a real story. It was fiction. It was my way of processing my own pain, my own fears. The Shadow King wasn’t based on Damien. He was a character — a complicated one, yes — but not my husband. Damien is not the villain in my life. He’s the man who loves me. He’s the father of my child. He protects me because he almost lost me. He’s not controlling me. He’s my partner. My home.”

Elena’s eyes widened, then narrowed. She shook her head violently, the cuffs rattling against the table. “No. No, you’re wrong. You’re still under his spell. I read every word. I felt it. The way the Shadow King said he loved her but kept her locked away. The way he made her doubt herself. That’s exactly what he does to you. I saw it. I watched you in the park. The way he hovered. The way he didn’t want you talking to your fans. He’s keeping you trapped, just like in the book. I’m the one who understands you. I’m the one who can set you free.”

Her voice rose, feverish and insistent. “I did this for you, Brielle. I took him so you could be free. So you could write more beautiful stories without him suffocating you. Why can’t you see that? Why are you still defending him?”

I felt a fresh wave of anger and sadness crash over me. I stepped closer, voice steady but firm. “Because he’s not the villain, Elena. He never was. Damien is the best man I’ve ever known. He fought for me when no one else would. He loved me when I felt unlovable. He holds me when I cry and makes me laugh even on the hardest days. He kisses my belly every morning and talks to our daughter like she’s already the center of his world. He is not controlling me. He is loving me. Fiercely. Completely. And I love him back. With everything I have.”

Elena’s face twisted with rage. “You’re lying to yourself! Just like the heroine did at first! She thought she loved the Shadow King too — until she realized the truth. Until she drove the blade through his heart. That’s what needs to happen. That’s the only way you’ll be free.”

I shook my head, voice hardening. “No. That’s not how my story ends. And it’s not how my real life ends. Damien is my happy ending. He is my light. Not my darkness. And if you ever come near him again — if you ever try to hurt him, or me, or our daughter — I will make sure you rot in jail for the rest of your life. I will use every resource, every connection, every word I have to make sure you never see the outside world again. Do you understand me?”

Elena stared at me, eyes wide, breathing fast. For a moment, something flickered in her gaze — doubt? Fear? — but then the manic smile returned.

“You’ll see,” she whispered. “One day… you’ll see I was right.”

I stepped back, done. “No. I won’t. Because I already have everything I need. And it’s not freedom from him. It’s a life with him.”

Damien’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. I turned to him, nodding. “We’re done here.”

As we walked out, his arm wrapped protectively around me, I felt a strange sense of closure. Not forgiveness. Not understanding. Just… finality.

The Shadow King was not falling today.

He was going home with me.