chapter 24
803 Words
John returned to the dining room a few moments later, carrying a tray with Damon’s dinner but the moment he stepped inside, he stopped.
The chair at the head of the table was empty and Damon was gone. He could already guess what had occurred in there and his gaze immediately shifted to Lana.
She was still sitting exactly where Damon had left her, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her shoulders trembling ever so slightly, and she stared blankly at the untouched food before her.
John quietly set the tray down.
"Miss Lana?"
She blinked, as though only just realizing someone had spoken to her.
He walked closer, his brows knitted with concern.
"Are you alright?"
Lana forced herself to nod.
"I'm... fine."
The words sounded hollow, even to her own ears.
John knew she wasn't, he had witnessed enough of their exchange to understand what had happened.
He sighed inwardly.
"I'll have the kitchen prepare something else if you've lost your appetite."
She shook her head.
"No, thank you."
Slowly, she pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.
"I think... I'd like to go to my room."
"Of course."
She managed only two steps before her knees suddenly weakened. the room spun and she stumbled.
"Miss Lana!"
John reached her just in time, steadying her before she could fall.
She quickly pulled herself upright, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry..."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I'm alright."
John studied her carefully.
"You don't look alright."
She offered him a tired smile.
"I'll be okay."
Although her legs still felt unsteady, she gently stepped away from him.
"I just... need some rest."
John hesitated, part of him wanting to insist that the doctor examine her.
Another part knew it wasn't her body that had been hurt, itwas her heart. He could do nothing for that.
"I'll walk you upstairs."
She didn't argue, the two of them climbed the staircase in silence.
Outside her bedroom door, John unlocked it before stepping aside.
"If you need anything..."
Lana nodded weakly.
"Thank you... for everything."
She slipped inside, the door closing softly behind her.
She leaned against the door, closing her eyes, a shaky breath escaping her lips.
"How long...?"
Her voice was barely audible.
"How long is he going to keep me here?"
She slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor.
her arms wrapped around her knees and tears blurred her vision.
"I've already spent years paying for Dad's mistakes."
A bitter laugh escaped her.
"Is that still not enough?"
She rested her forehead against her knees.
"What more do I have to lose before people stop punishing me for someone else's sins?"
Silence answered her.
Elsewhere in the mansion, Damon emptied his third glass of whiskey in a single swallow.
The amber liquid burned down his throat, but it did nothing to cool the fire raging inside him.
He slammed the empty glass onto the desk, his breathing growing more uneven.
His mind replayed the scene from the dining room.
Lana's pale face and the confusion in her eyes the way she'd flinched when his fist struck the table.
His jaw tightened.
Good, that was exactly what he wanted. He wanted her to feel cornered and helpless.
He wanted her to taste even a fraction of the despair he had lived with for years.
He wanted her to understand what it felt like to have your world ripped away.
So why... why did the memory leave such an unpleasant weight in his chest?
He closed his eyes briefly and a sharp pang of guilt surfaced once again. it irritated him.
"No."
He shook his head firmly.
"She deserves this."
Didn't she? His fingers curled into fists.
Without another thought, he opened the top drawer of his desk.
Carefully, he pulled out a silver picture frame, his expression softening almost immediately.
Inside the frame was an old photograph, a younger Damon stood between his parents.
His father rested a proud hand on his shoulder and his mother smiled brightly beside them, her eyes full of warmth.
They looked... happy, whole and untouched by betrayal.
Damon's thumb brushed lightly across the glass.
"They trusted him," he whispered.
His voice cracked with restrained emotion.
"They treated him like family."
His father's closest friend, the man who had repaid that trust by destroying everything.
His eyes slowly darkened again.
Now, that man's daughter was living under his roof, sleeping in his house and walking through the halls his parents had once filled with laughter.
His grip tightened around the frame until his knuckles turned white.
"I'll make her understand."
His voice was cold once more.
"I'll make her feel the same pain."
Even if every passing day made the guilt inside him grow heavier...
Even if one day...he ended up hating himself for it.
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