Security Footage
1948 Words
*Chapter 8: Security Footage*
The first night in Damien’s apartment, I didn’t sleep.
Not because of the boxes. Not because his bed smelled like cedar and him.
Because my phone was off.
Because Rule #5 was _He doesn’t get to us._
Because for the first time in 2 years, I felt safe enough to be scared.
At 6am I was awake, making coffee in his kitchen. His kitchen. Terrible pasta kitchen.
He walked in barefoot. Gray sweatpants. No shirt. Hair messy.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
“Morning.” I handed him a mug. Black.
He took it, then pulled me into his chest. Kissed the top of my head.
“You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.”
We stood there. Quiet. Like the world outside didn’t exist.
His phone buzzed on the counter.
Security.
Damien frowned. Answered. “Yeah?”
His whole body went still.
“Send it to me. Now.”
He hung up. Looked at me.
“Ava. Tyler was at Cole Enterprises at 3am.”
My coffee went cold in my hand.
---
*7:15am. Security Room. 40th Floor.*
The room smelled like coffee and tension.
Two guards. Damien. Me.
And on the big screen: CCTV footage. Timestamp 3:04am.
Tyler.
Gray hoodie. Hat. Sunglasses at 3am.
He was at the front desk. Talking to the night guard.
Gesturing. Smiling. That smile.
Then he pulled out his phone. Showed something.
The guard shook his head.
Tyler leaned in. Said something.
The guard stepped back. Hit a button.
Two more guards appeared.
Tyler held his hands up. Walked out.
But before he left, he looked straight at the camera.
And mouthed something.
The guard froze it. Zoomed in.
_Tell Ava I’m not done._
My stomach dropped.
Damien’s jaw was so tight I thought it would c***k.
“Pull his access. All of it. Building, garage, guest list. Everything.”
“Already done, sir,” one guard said. “And we filed a report.”
“Good. Send me the footage. And get legal on this.”
He turned to me.
“You okay?”
“No,” I whispered. “But I will be.”
He nodded. Took my hand. Right there, in front of security.
“Let’s go to my office.”
---
*Flashback: 4 Years Ago. Tyler’s Birthday Party.*
I was 22. Dumb. In love.
Tyler’s friends were all there. Loud. Rich.
I went to the kitchen for water.
He followed me.
“Ava. My brother’s here.”
“So?”
“So don’t embarrass me.” He laughed. “He’s boring. CEO stuff. Don’t talk to him.”
I didn’t.
But Damien saw me anyway.
Later he found me on the balcony.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said.
“Do what?”
“Pretend you’re okay when you’re not.”
I stared at him. “How did you—”
“I pay attention.” He shrugged. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”
He drove me home that night.
I thought he was just being nice.
---
*Present: 8:30am. Damien’s Office. Door Locked.*
He pulled the footage up on his laptop. Watched it three times.
Each time his hands got tighter on the desk.
“He’s scared,” Damien said finally.
“Of what?”
“Of losing. Of you being happy and it not being with him.”
I sat on the couch. Pulled my knees up.
“Damien, what if he—”
“He won’t.” Damien cut me off. Came to sit next to me. Not touching. Close. “I won’t let him.”
“But what if—”
“Ava.” He turned me to face him. Both hands on my face. Thumb on my cheek. “Look at me. He is not getting to you. Not through me. Not through this company. Not ever again.”
His voice wasn’t loud. It was worse. It was certain.
I nodded. Tears I didn’t know I was holding fell.
“Okay.”
He wiped them with his thumb.
“Good. Now we’re going to work. And then we’re going to dinner. And then we’re going home. And he’s going to learn what happens when he touches what’s mine.”
Mine.
The word should’ve scared me.
It didn’t.
---
*10:00am. My Desk.*
My inbox was chaos.
_Are you okay?_
_HR needs you_
_Is this true?_
And one from Legal. _Restraining order draft. Review._
I was reading it when my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
_You think cameras scare me?_
I didn’t answer. Screenshot. Sent to Damien.
30 seconds later:
Damien: _Block it. Don’t engage. I’m handling it._
Me: _He was here._
Damien: _I know. And now he knows we know._
My hands were shaking.
A shadow fell over my desk.
Mrs. Cole.
“Ms. Monroe.”
“M-Mrs. Cole.” I stood.
She looked at me. Really looked.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” She sighed. “Come with me.”
---
*10:15am. Mrs. Cole’s Office.*
It was nothing like Damien’s. Warm. Plants. Photos.
One of them: Damien, 16, with an arm around 13-year-old Tyler. Both smiling.
She followed my gaze.
“He used to be a good kid,” she said quietly. “Before he decided the world owed him.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Sit.” She gestured. I did.
“I didn’t like you at first,” she said. Blunt. “Because you were Tyler’s. Because I thought you’d hurt him like he hurt you.”
“I did hurt him. By leaving.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You survived him. That’s different.”
She slid a folder across the desk.
“Security report. Police report. And this.”
It was a letter. Handwritten.
_Mrs. Cole,_
_I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I just wanted her back. -T_
My chest hurt.
“He sent this to me at 4am,” Mrs. Cole said. “Before the footage.”
“What does it mean?”
“It means he’s losing control. And losing men do stupid things.”
She reached across. Took my hand.
“I don’t approve of how fast this happened. But I approve of him choosing you. Because God knows he never chose himself.”
She stood.
“Be careful, Ms. Monroe. And tell my son to eat something other than coffee.”
---
*12:30pm. Parking Garage.*
Damien was waiting by my car. Again.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I know.” He opened the passenger door. “Lunch.”
We drove in silence.
At a red light he reached over. Laced his fingers with mine.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“Of him. Of this. Of messing it up.”
“You won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re still here.”
We ended up at a small buka. No cameras. No press.
Pepper soup. Cold Coke.
He told me about when he was 18 and had to bail Tyler out of jail.
I told him about the night I found the red lipstick on Tyler’s collar.
We didn’t touch. Not really. But our knees kept brushing under the table.
---
*3:00pm. Legal.*
The restraining order was filed.
Temporary. 14 days.
Tyler couldn’t come within 100 meters of me, Damien, or Cole Enterprises.
Damien signed first. Then me.
“Is this enough?” I asked the lawyer.
“It’s a start,” she said. “But keep your phone on. Keep security close.”
Outside, Damien’s assistant was waiting.
“Mr. Cole. The board wants—”
“Later.” He cut her off. “Drive us home.”
---
*Flashback: The Night I Signed The Contract.*
Unknown number again.
_Don’t do it if it’s going to break you. -D_
I asked my friend later: _Who has this number?_
She said: _Only the CEO._
I didn’t believe her.
---
*Present: 7:00pm. Damien’s Apartment.*
Boxes were mostly gone. My books on his shelves. My mug next to his.
He was cooking. Again. Still terrible.
I was on the couch. Laptop open. Working.
He came in. Sat on the floor by my feet. Head on my knee.
“You’re working too much,” he said into my jeans.
“You’re enabling me.”
“I am.”
He looked up.
“Ava.”
“Yeah?”
“I watched the footage again.”
“Damien—”
“I needed to. To know what we’re dealing with.” He sat up. “He’s not going to stop. Not until he’s forced to.”
“So what do we do?”
“We stay. We work. We live.” He reached up. Tucked hair behind my ear. “And we let security do their job.”
His phone buzzed. He ignored it.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Anything.”
“Do you regret this? Us. Now. With all of this?”
The question gutted me.
“No.” I set my laptop aside. “I regret that it took us 2 years. I regret that I was with him first. I regret that you had to see that video before you could touch me.”
“But?”
“But I don’t regret you.”
He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.
“Good.”
He kissed me. Slow. Like he had all the time in the world.
Like the footage, the texts, the board didn’t exist.
When we broke apart he rested his forehead on mine.
“Rule #7?”
“What’s Rule #7?”
“No more sleeping in separate rooms. Even when we fight.”
“We haven’t fought yet.”
“We will.” He smiled. “And we’ll still sleep in the same bed.”
“Deal.”
---
*11:47pm.*
I was half asleep when my phone lit up.
Unknown number.
I almost didn’t look.
Then I did.
It was a photo.
Me. Leaving the buka today.
Damien’s hand on my back.
Caption: _Cute. Won’t last._
I shot up.
Damien was awake instantly.
“What is it?”
I showed him.
His face went blank. The scary kind of blank.
He called security. Then the police. Then his lawyer.
All in 3 minutes.
“New cameras at the buka. New security detail. Starting tonight.” He hung up. Looked at me. “Ava. I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“For this. For him. For making you unsafe.”
I crawled into his lap.
“You didn’t make me unsafe. He did. And you’re the one keeping me safe.”
He held me. Tight.
“I’m not losing you,” he whispered into my hair. “To him. To this. To anything.”
“I know.”
We didn’t sleep much.
But when we did, it was in the same bed.
Rule #7.
---
*Next Morning. 6:00am.*
Text from Damien: _Security detail outside. Don’t go out alone._
Me: _I won’t._
Damien: _Good. Coffee’s on._
I walked into the kitchen.
He was there. Suit on. Coffee in hand.
And on the counter: a new phone.
“Yours was compromised,” he said. “This one’s clean. New number. Only me, your mom, and security have it.”
I took it.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me.” He kissed my temple. “Just stay.”
I nodded.
Outside, the city was waking up.
Inside, Rule #6 was still holding.
_We stay. No matter what._
Even when it was hard.
Especially then.
---
Coming next
*Chapter 9: The Hospital*
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