Chapter 4-House Rules
683 Words
Sophia stepped into the penthouse carrying one small suitcase, feeling like an intruder in someone else’s life. Maria, the housekeeper, greeted her warmly. “Welcome home, Mrs. Harrington.”
The title made Sophia flinch. Damien noticed from across the room but said nothing.
Maria gave her a tour of the sprawling space—marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and expensive art that felt more like museum pieces than decorations. Everything was flawless and cold. When Sophia quietly asked if Damien actually lived here, Maria offered a small smile. “Mr. Harrington works here. He sleeps here. Those are two different things.”
The words lingered as Maria showed her to the bedroom. On the nightstand sat a vase of fresh white lilies. Sophia touched one petal, confused, just as Damien appeared in the doorway, loosening his tie.
“They’re for you,” he said.
“Why?”
“Alex bought them for you every birthday.”
The quiet admission unsettled her. She had never told him that.
Dinner was stiff and awkward. They sat across from each other at the long table while Maria served. The silence felt suffocating until Maria accidentally burned the garlic bread. Sophia let out a surprised laugh, and for a fleeting moment, Damien laughed too—low and genuine. Their eyes met, and the moment felt strangely natural.
Then reality settled back in. The laughter faded.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Sophia said softly.
Damien’s expression cooled. “No.”
After the meal, Sophia laid out her rules in the living room. Separate bedrooms. Knock before entering. No pretending when they were alone. No unnecessary talk about Alex. And he was to stay out of her business.
Damien agreed to most of them, but not the last. “I can’t promise that anymore,” he said, meeting her eyes. “You’re my responsibility now.”
The words left her both irritated and strangely unsettled.
Later, while unpacking in her room, Sophia opened the walk-in wardrobe. One of Alex’s gray hoodies hung inside. The sight hit her like a wave. She pulled it down, pressed it to her face, and broke. Tears came fast and silent as she sank to the floor, clutching the fabric that still carried his scent.
She didn’t hear Damien enter.
He stopped in the doorway for a long moment, watching her. Then he walked over, crouched down, and gently took the hoodie from her hands. Without a word, he folded it with careful precision and placed it back on the shelf. He closed the wardrobe door and left the room as quietly as he had come.
Sophia remained on the floor, stunned. For the first time, she understood that Damien was grieving too—in his own silent, locked-down way.
Later that evening, Damien’s phone rang. He stepped onto the balcony to answer it. Sophia wasn’t trying to listen, but the glass door hadn’t closed fully.
Charles Whitmore’s voice drifted in faintly. “The board is already asking questions.”
Damien’s reply was low. “If she finds out—”
He cut himself off. “She won’t.”
Sophia stepped back quickly, heart racing. *If she finds out what?*
Damien left soon after for an emergency board meeting. Alone again, Sophia wandered the penthouse. Most doors opened without resistance. One did not.
At the end of a quiet hallway stood a heavy door with a sleek fingerprint scanner. She tried the handle anyway. Locked.
She was still staring at it when a low voice spoke behind her.
“Looking for something?”
Sophia spun around.
Damien stood only a few feet away. He must have returned without her noticing.
“I was just curious,” she said quickly.
His eyes flicked to the locked door, then back to her.
“Curiosity has a price.”
He walked past her, pressed his thumb to the scanner, and slipped inside just far enough that she couldn’t see anything beyond his shoulders. The door clicked shut again before she could catch a glimpse.
He turned to face her, expression unreadable.
Sophia’s heart hammered in her chest.
- Writer
