Chapter Seven: Shattered Trust
1701 Words
The morning after Ariana walked out, Damien sat alone in his penthouse office, surrounded by silence. The suite, usually a symbol of power and control, now felt hollow—like a house with no heartbeat.
Her absence echoed louder than the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
He hadn’t slept. Hadn’t eaten. His assistant had canceled all meetings, and even the board had gone quiet, sensing the storm brewing behind the billionaire’s steely composure.
Damien stared at a framed photo on his desk—Ariana laughing, her head thrown back during a press dinner. She hadn’t even known he’d snapped the photo. It was the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep, untouched by the world’s cruelty.
The kind of laugh he feared he’d never see again.
---
Across the city, Ariana sat curled up on her best friend Ivy’s couch, wrapped in a borrowed hoodie and holding a cup of now-cold tea. Ivy watched her in silence, giving her space, but finally broke the stillness.
“Are you going to tell me what happened, or should I guess? Secret baby? Secret wife? Mafia ties?”
Ariana let out a breathless chuckle. “Secret clause in his father’s will. He had to get married by a deadline to keep control of the company.”
Ivy blinked. “Wait. What? You’re telling me the man flew you to Paris, kissed you like you were the only woman on Earth, and proposed because of a contractual clause?”
Ariana nodded, her voice flat. “It was all part of the plan. I was just... the safest option. The least threatening. Easy to control.”
“You? Easy to control?” Ivy scoffed. “He clearly doesn’t know you at all.”
Ariana managed a small smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. “He says I was more than that. That it became real. But how do I trust that, Ivy? How do I know where the lie ends and the truth begins?”
Ivy leaned forward, gripping her friend’s hands. “Because you feel it. In your gut. In your bones. You’ve always known how to read people, Ari. If he’s lying, you’ll know. But don’t throw this away just because you're scared.”
“I’m not scared of him,” Ariana said softly. “I’m scared of me. Of falling for someone who might not catch me.”
---
Meanwhile, at Blackwood Corp, cracks began to show in Damien’s carefully maintained image.
The press caught wind of rumors swirling around the whirlwind marriage, with headlines questioning the legitimacy of their relationship:
> “Marriage of Convenience? Inside the Blackwood Wedding”
“Billionaire Bride or Boardroom Bargain?”
Stock prices wavered. Investors whispered.
And in the middle of it all, Elena returned.
She strode into the boardroom with a smirk, placing a file on the polished mahogany table.
“Thought you might like to know,” she said to the directors, “that Mr. Blackwood’s marriage may be in violation of board ethics, and possibly, a conflict of interest. I suggest a vote—one that could determine whether he remains CEO.”
Damien, standing at the far end of the room, stared her down.
“You’re still bitter because I chose someone else.”
“No,” Elena replied coolly. “I’m angry because you didn’t choose me to play your game. Now I’ll make sure you lose.”
---
Back in Ivy’s apartment, Ariana received the news in a text from Damien.
> They’re trying to remove me. Elena went to the board. I don’t care about the company. I care about you. I need to see you. Please.
Ariana stared at the screen.
Her heart ached.
Her world tilted.
And for the first time in days, she whispered the truth out loud:
“I still love him.”
But loving him and trusting him weren’t the same. And to move forward, she needed both.
She stood, grabbed her coat, and turned to Ivy. “I need to go.”
“Where?”
“To see if what we had was ever real... or just another lie.”
Ariana arrived at the Blackwood Tower just as the skies opened up with a summer rain. She didn’t bother with an umbrella. The cold droplets soaked her hair and clung to her lashes, but she barely felt them. Her heart was louder than the thunder rumbling above.
She walked past the guards—who, surprisingly, let her through without protest—and stepped into the private elevator. Her reflection in the mirrored walls startled her. She looked tired. Worn. But underneath the surface, a quiet strength burned.
The elevator doors opened into the executive floor, and Damien was waiting.
His breath caught when he saw her.
“Ariana...” he said as if her name were the only prayer he remembered.
She stepped out slowly, meeting his eyes. “We need to talk.”
He nodded, stepping aside, motioning her toward his office. It was eerily quiet, the glass walls shielding them from the storm brewing both outside and within the building.
Inside, she stood by the window, arms crossed. “Why didn’t you tell me from the beginning?”
Damien walked toward her but stopped a few feet away. “Because I was afraid. Afraid if you knew the truth, you’d walk away before I had the chance to show you who I really am. I’ve spent my entire life doing what people expected—being who they needed me to be. But you... you made me want to be someone real.”
Ariana looked down, her voice trembling. “Do you even know how much it hurt? Finding out that I was part of a deal?”
“You weren’t. Not to me. Maybe in the beginning, the marriage was a solution. But you—us—that was never part of the plan. It was better.”
She studied him, trying to see past the sharp suit, the cool façade. And for the first time, she saw the vulnerability in his eyes.
“I want to believe you,” she whispered. “But belief needs more than words.”
“Then let me show you,” Damien said, stepping closer. “Let me prove it, Ariana. Not with promises, but with action.”
Before she could answer, his office door burst open.
It was Lucien Blackwood—Damien’s uncle and acting chairman of the board.
“We need to talk,” Lucien said, throwing a thick folder onto Damien’s desk. “The board has scheduled a vote. You have forty-eight hours to clear your name—or step down.”
Ariana’s breath hitched.
Lucien glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “And she—she better be more than a trophy wife, Damien. Otherwise, this empire you’re clinging to will crumble. Fast.”
He left without another word.
A tense silence settled.
Damien looked at Ariana. “This is bigger than me now. Elena wants control, and she’ll use every weapon she can find.”
Ariana stepped closer. “Then let me be your shield. But I’m not standing beside a man who lies. If we fight, we fight as equals. No secrets. No schemes.”
Damien nodded slowly, a flicker of hope returning to his eyes. “Then we fight.”
She took his hand.
This time, it wasn’t just about love.
It was about trust.
About truth.
And about two broken people choosing to face the storm—together.
That night, Ariana stayed in the guest suite of Damien’s penthouse—not because she had forgiven him completely, but because walking away now would mean surrendering her power. She needed clarity, not distance. Answers, not avoidance.
Damien, for once, didn’t push. He gave her space. Cooked her dinner himself—burned pasta and all. They didn’t talk about the board meeting or the scandal. Just sat quietly on the couch watching a movie neither of them paid attention to.
It was awkward. Tender. Raw.
And maybe that was exactly what healing looked like.
Later, as the rain finally stopped and the city lights flickered against the glass windows, Damien brought her a blanket. She looked up at him, her expression softening.
“I don’t need a perfect man, Damien,” she said quietly. “I just need a man who chooses honesty—even when it’s hard.”
His throat tightened. “Then I choose that. From now on.”
She nodded, slowly curling into the blanket. “We’ll see.”
---
The next morning, the tabloids exploded.
Photos of Damien and Ariana at their wedding, their hands intertwined in a quiet moment, appeared on every site—with headlines that ranged from scandalous to romantic.
But one stood out.
> “The Hidden Bride Speaks: Ariana Grant Steps Into the Spotlight”
Ariana had given a statement to a journalist Ivy knew—carefully worded, but firm.
She acknowledged the unconventional circumstances of their marriage.
She spoke of love, independence, and partnership—not submission.
And most importantly, she made it clear: she was no pawn.
The world suddenly saw her not as a gold digger, but as a woman of strength, intelligence, and heart.
Investors started to calm. The board postponed the vote. Elena fumed in silence.
Damien read the article three times over and then rushed to find Ariana in the rooftop garden.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said.
“I know,” she replied, sipping her coffee. “But I did it because I believe in truth—and in fighting for something worth saving.”
He took her hand. “Are we worth saving?”
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.
“Yes,” she whispered. “But it won’t be easy.”
Damien smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m not asking for easy. I’m asking for you.”
She leaned in, forehead touching his.
“You have me, Damien. But if you ever lie to me again… I’ll walk. And this time, I won’t look back.”
A promise.
A warning.
And a beginning.
- Writer
