Chapter 16: The lie between us
1195 Words
Damien’s POV
I’ve heard a lot of things in my life.
Whispers in boardrooms. Lies spoken through champagne smiles. Threats delivered behind closed doors in perfect, practiced calm. I’ve watched reputations burn in real time, scandals sweep through families like wildfires, entire legacies collapse under the weight of one ugly truth.
But nothing—and I mean nothing—hits quite like this.
Murderer.
That word hangs in the air like smoke. Heavy. Thick. Poisonous.
I can still hear Theo’s voice echoing. Cold. Precise. Like a blade honed to hurt.
“Does Damien know you’re a murderer?”
She drops the mug, and I barely register the sound. It’s not the crash that matters. It’s her silence. The way her eyes widen just a fraction. The way her chest stops moving for a beat too long.
She doesn’t deny it.
Not out loud.
Not even in the way she moves.
She just… stands there. Still. Hollowed out.
I don’t ask if it’s true. I don’t rush in to defend her or call Theo out for being dramatic. I just look at her.
And that’s when I know.
It’s not that she did it—at least not exactly.
It’s that there’s something real beneath the words.
A truth she’s been carrying like an anchor.
And she never told me.
I don’t speak. I can’t yet. My thoughts are spiraling too fast, too loud. Her name circles in my mind like a curse. Elara. Elara. Elara.
I thought I was starting to understand her. I thought I was peeling back the layers. Getting close. I thought the walls she built were just scars from a rough life, not a goddamn crime scene.
Theo doesn’t stop.
Of course he doesn’t.
He’s been waiting for this moment. Building toward it like a performance. There’s a sick kind of satisfaction in his voice when he starts recounting the details—headlines, rumors, that infamous fiancé.
“The Runaway Bride of Death,” he says like he’s quoting a movie.
And Elara?
She still says nothing.
Her silence is the loudest thing in the room.
I study her face. Pale. Distant. Not surprised—prepared. Like she’s been bracing for this moment for years. Like she always knew this was coming.
That’s the part that gets me.
The knowing.
She let me sleep beside her. Let me trust her. Let me feel something for her—something real. And all the while, she carried this around like a secret grenade.
Waiting for it to go off.
My hands curl into fists at my sides. Not from rage—yet—but from the pressure building in my chest. Betrayal is a slow burn. But this? This feels immediate. Like heat licking at the edge of my sanity.
“Now, Damien,” Theo says, smiling like the devil himself, “still think you know who you’re sleeping next to?”
I don’t answer.
My jaw tightens, but I don’t take my eyes off her. Not once.
Because I need her to look at me.
I need to see something. A crack. A plea. A sliver of the woman I thought I knew.
But all I get is a stone-faced shadow.
It’s like the Elara I’ve been falling for—reluctantly, stupidly—is gone. Swallowed by this version of her. This ghost of a girl who’s been living in fear of a past I never saw coming.
She doesn’t ask for forgiveness.
She doesn’t even offer a lie.
She just… waits.
And I realize, in that moment, she thinks she’s lost me already.
Maybe she has.
But I’m not walking away. Not yet. Because I need to know the truth.
All of it.
Even if it wrecks us both.
I step forward, ignoring Theo’s smug expression. He’s said his piece. Now I want hers.
“Elara,” I say—calm, quiet. Like I’m trying not to spook her. “Say something.”
Her lips part, but nothing comes out.
I wait.
The silence stretches.
And that’s when I feel it.
The shift.
Not between us—but in me.
Because I’m not just angry. I’m afraid.
Afraid of what this means. Afraid of what I’ll do if she tells me something I can’t live with. Afraid of the fact that I want to believe her even though everything in me is screaming not to.
She finally speaks.
Barely.
“It wasn’t like they said,” she whispers.
Her voice is so low I have to strain to hear it.
“Then tell me how it was,” I say, sharper than I intend. “Because right now, the only version I’ve got is Theo’s. And that one’s a goddamn horror story.”
She flinches.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
I catch it.
But she still doesn’t tell me everything.
“He died,” she says, and her voice breaks on the word. “My fiancé. There was an accident. But it wasn’t murder. I didn’t—” Her throat tightens. “I didn’t kill him.”
Her eyes finally meet mine.
And they’re full of something I can’t name.
Not guilt. Not quite.
Something messier.
Something like grief.
Maybe it’s the truth.
Maybe it’s performance.
I don’t know anymore.
All I know is I feel like I’m standing at the edge of something I can’t unsee.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
She breathes in, slow and shaky.
“Because no one ever believes me,” she says. “Because every time I try, it makes it worse. Because I didn’t want you to look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
I glance away. Because she’s right.
There’s a distance now. A crack that wasn’t there before.
And it’s not just about the past.
It’s about the choice she made not to tell me.
About the version of herself she sold me—safe, sharp, sarcastic—but never vulnerable.
I run a hand through my hair, frustration boiling just under the surface.
“Do you know what this means, Elara?” I ask, not accusing—just tired. “Do you know what kind of damage this could do if it got out?”
She nods.
Of course she does.
She’s lived it.
I look over at Theo. He’s still standing there, arms crossed, pleased with himself.
“Get out,” I tell him flatly.
His eyebrows shoot up. “What, no thank-you for the revelation?”
“Out.”
He smirks, but for once, he doesn’t argue. He gives Elara one last look—some mix of warning and pity—and walks out.
Leaving me and Elara in the aftermath.
Alone.
Or maybe more alone than we’ve ever been.
I look at her one more time.
And I don’t know if I should hold her or walk away.
But I do know this:
The version of her I knew?
She’s gone.
And the woman in front of me?
She’s someone I have to choose to trust.
Or not.
And I don’t know what scares me more—her secret… or the fact that I still want to.
- Writer
