Under His Rule

Andrea's POV

My heels clicked like gunshots all the way down the hallway.

I didn’t stop walking, didn’t slow, didn’t breathe, not until the elevator doors slid shut and I was alone, wrapped in a silence so thick it felt like drowning.

Then I exploded.

“Unbelievable,” I hissed, gripping the railing inside the elevator so tightly my knuckles whitened. “He’s unbelievable.”

Damien Cole. The human iceberg. The man whose face looked carved by angels and sharpened by misery. The man who’d dissected my failures like a surgeon with a grudge.

My heart punched against my ribs.

A liability. He called me a liability.

Dad had no right to spring this on me, and Damien… God, Damien… Had no right to look at me like I was some… frivolous girl cluttering his pristine kingdom.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew my reputation. I knew what people whispered.

Spoiled. Privileged. A pretty distraction. A decorative Mikaelson.

And yes, I had screwed up. More than once. More than I wanted to admit. The internships bored me.

The app failed. The semester abroad… I didn’t finish because I panicked, because I wasn’t good enough, because everyone else seemed to know what they were doing and I didn’t, and because anxiety was easier to hide behind a smile and a flight back home than to explain to my parents.

But I worked hard on the things I loved. I cared. I tried.

No one ever noticed that part. Especially not men like Damien Cole.

The elevator dinged open on the lobby floor. I stepped out, posture perfect, head high, even though inside, I felt like a cracked glass ready to split down the middle.

Ella was waiting by the entrance, five foot five of caramel-skinned cynicism and the kind of loyalty money couldn’t buy.

Her curls were pulled back into a high ponytail, and she was holding a cup holder with two iced matcha lattes.

The look on her face said, I know something happened.

The look on mine said, Don’t. That’s an order.

She offered me one of the drinks anyway.

I took it. Two sips. Cold, sweet, green sanity sliding down my throat.

Then I said, “I hate him.”

Ella tucked a curl behind her ear. “Good morning to you too.”

“Hate,” I repeated. “You know the way some people hate traffic or humidity? No. I hate Damien Cole on a molecular level.”

“That’s specific,” she said. “What did he do? Look at you too hard? Breathe in your direction?”

“He called me a liability.”

Ella froze. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Mm-hmm.”

She blinked slowly. “Okay, back up. Start from the beginning. What happened upstairs? You were supposed to just sit pretty, smile, and sign things. Not wage war.”

I pressed the cool cup to my forehead. “Turns out my father forgot to mention the tiny detail that I’m not sitting in boardrooms for the next twelve months. I’m… working.”

Ella choked. “Like… actually working?”

“Under Damien.”

She stared. “As in Damien Damien?”

“Yes.”

She whistled, low and impressed. “Your dad really said ‘character development.’”

“I swear I’m going to throw up.”

We stepped out into the crisp morning air, sunlight bouncing off the glass facade of Cole Industries. People rushed by, suits, dresses, briefcases, humans with purpose. Focus. Stability.

I envied them.

Ella nudged me as we crossed the street toward where my driver waited. “Be honest: was he as gorgeous as the rumors say?”

I groaned into my matcha. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Dark hair? Tall? Disgustingly symmetrical face?”

“And worse,” I said, staring at the memory of him across that obsidian table. “He smells good.”

Ella gasped. “No. A man can’t be rude and smell good. That’s just evil.”

“Pure villainy.”

We climbed into the backseat of the car, and I slumped against the leather, staring out the window as the city blurred by.

“He looked at me like he already had me figured out,” I murmured. “Like he knew exactly who I was before I even opened my mouth.”

Ella’s voice softened. “And what did you do?”

“I opened my mouth.”

She snorted. “Of course you did.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “I told him the meeting was supposed to be fun.”

Ella’s eyes widened. “Andrea.”

“I panicked!”

“You flirt when you panic.”

“I wasn’t flirting!”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe a little,” I muttered.

There was a silence, gentle, aware. Ella knew me too well.

She knew the truth I didn’t say out loud: Being misunderstood hurt. Being underestimated hurt more. Being expected to fail was humiliating.

And Damien… he had looked at me like I was born to disappoint him.

I swallowed hard.

“What if he’s right?” I whispered before I could stop myself.

Ella’s head snapped toward me. “Stop. Right now. Stop that.”

I stared into my lap.

“What if I fail again?” I asked softly. “What if I can’t do this? What if everyone finally sees that I’m… exactly what they think I am?”

She reached over and squeezed my hand. “Andrea Mikaelson, listen to me. You are smart. You are capable. You are better than you think, and you’re definitely better than Damien freaking Cole.”

I tried to smile. It wobbled.

Ella continued, “He saw one version of you. The version the world likes to box you into, but you get to decide whether that’s the version you give him.”

I breathed in. Slowly. Carefully.

She was right. I didn’t want Damien’s validation, but I refused to let him define me.

I straightened my spine. “Okay,” I said. “Okay, fine. One year. I can do a year.”

Ella grinned. “There she is.”

“But,” I added, more to myself than her, “I’m not going to survive this by pretending to be something I’m not.”

“Good, because pretending gives you wrinkles.”

“And I’m going to prove him wrong.”

She squeezed my arm. “Atta girl.”

“I’m going to work,” I said. “Really work.”

“You’re going to shock the world.”

“I’m going to shock him,” I corrected. “And not in the way he expects.”

Ella laughed. “Just don’t fall for him.”

I scoffed. “Please. The man is made of stone.”

“Yes, but it’s pretty stone.”

“Still stone.”

“Sexy stone.”

“Shut up.”

We pulled into the Mikaelson estate, and I climbed out, thanking the driver before heading straight for the front entrance.

Walking up those steps, I felt something shifting inside me, not confidence exactly. Something quieter. Sharper. Determined.

Damien Cole didn’t scare me, but the way he made me feel… that was dangerous.

I paused at the door, gripping the handle, and right then, something crystallized inside me, a decision. A promise.

If Damien thought I was a liability, I would make him regret underestimating me. If he thought I was weak, I would show him strength.

If he thought I was a pretty distraction, I would become the one distraction he couldn’t control, and if he wanted war?

Perfect. I could do war in heels.