BY CONTRACT: His to own

Chapter12

The hospital corridor had fallen quiet, save for the soft hum of machines and the occasional footsteps of nurses in white. The cold white light spilled from the ceiling, stark and lifeless, casting shadows that stretched and moved with every passing second.

Ava sat beside Lily’s hospital bed, her hand gently clutching her sister’s small, frail fingers. The soft beeping of the monitors was the only sign of life, a cruel reminder of the fine line Lily was walking between recovery and fragility.

She had been there for hours now, her eyes red and her body aching. She hadn’t eaten. And now it’s 4pm. But she didn’t care. This, being next to her sister, was the only place in the world that felt real.

She didn’t hear Damien walk in.

She only noticed him when his shadow fell over her, pulling her from the daze. She turned her head slowly, exhaustion and sadness etched deep into her face.

“You’ll need to be ready by tomorrow evening,” Damien said, voice low but curt. “We’re going somewhere. I’ll have something sent up for you to wear.”

Ava blinked, her brows furrowing in disbelief. “What? Damien, my sister just had major surgery. I’m not leaving her side now.”

Damien’s jaw clenched. “She’s in good hands. The nurses are here to do their job. You don’t need to babysit.”

“She’s not just some patient to me!” Ava snapped, standing slowly. Her voice cracked from the strain. “She’s my sister. I have to be here if she wakes up. What if she’s scared or in pain or….”

Damien cut her off with a cold stare. “That’s not my concern right now.”

Ava stared at him, the weight of his words crushing her chest. She couldn’t understand how someone could be so emotionless. So distant. “What is wrong with you?” she whispered. “Why are you doing this to me?”

He stepped forward, lowering his voice but not softening his tone. “I don’t like repeating myself, Ava. You’ll be ready by evening. I don’t care if your sister’s eyelashes twitch, your time here ends in thirty minutes.”

Ava's lips parted as if to beg. As if to try one more time.

But she saw it in his face, he had already made up his mind.

And he wasn’t going to change it.

“You don’t get to control everything,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m not your puppet.”

Damien tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “I paid for the surgery. I gave you a roof. Clothes. Comfort. You owe me, Ava. And I don’t like my investments being ungrateful.”

Ava recoiled slightly, her mouth parting in disbelief.

Investment.

That was what she was to him?

A thing.

A deal.

Not a person.

Not a woman grieving the ruins of her life, clutching to the last piece of it lying on a hospital bed.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she bit them back. She didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not now. Not again.

“I hate you,” she whispered under her breath, more to herself than to him.

Damien turned to leave. But before stepping out the door, he paused back still to her.

“You have thirty minutes,” he said without turning. “I’ll be downstairs.”

And then he was gone.

Ava stood frozen, fists clenched at her sides, her entire body trembling. The walls felt like they were closing in. She turned to Lily again, her little sister still unmoving, breathing shallowly, unaware of the war raging just inches away.

She sank into the chair beside the bed, covered her mouth with her hand, and let the pain rise.

Why is this happening to me? Why do I always end up in chains?

Her tears slipped quietly this time. No sobs. No sound. Just a silent, unbearable grief.

She looked down at Lily and gently adjusted the edge of the blanket, tucking it under her sister’s chin.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I wanted to be strong for you. I wanted to stay. But I can’t… I can’t even protect you from him.”

Her hand reached up to stroke Lily’s hair, and she bent down, pressing a soft kiss to her sister’s forehead. Her breath hitched, and for a second, her body shook under the pressure of holding it all in.

Ava didn’t even hear the door open.

She was too far gone, drenched in the kind of grief that silenced everything else. Her chest felt hollow, her hands trembling in her lap as she stared at her sister’s face, waiting for any sign of movement. The thirty minutes he had given her passed like sand slipping between her fingers.

When Damien stepped in, the soft click of the door startled her. She jerked slightly and turned to face him.

Her eyes were red, swollen, almost bruised from how long she had been crying. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her lips pale and trembling, and her skin drained of color. She looked like a ghost of herself empty and raw.

Damien’s gaze swept over her, and his jaw ticked.

“You look drained,” he said coolly. “I don’t want my girlfriend looking like this.”

Ava’s chest rose slowly, her breath tight. Her eyes met his with a cold fire blazing in them. It was hatred. The kind of fury that came from being broken down and still being told to smile.

Damien stepped closer.

“Remember,” he said, voice smooth as silk but laced with steel, “you’re Damien Valen’s girlfriend. Don’t forget that. You’re not an ordinary girl anymore.”

She stared at him, her fists clenching tightly at her sides. Her expression didn’t break, but her silence said everything. Her eyes screamed.

I hate you.

She hated the way he spoke to her.

The way he looked at her.

The way he pretended like she was some trophy he could polish and parade around while her world was crumbling beneath her.

Damien tilted his head slightly as if amused by her defiance. Then he turned and gestured toward the door.

“Fix your face,” he said sharply. “Come out.”

“There’s no way I can fix my face,” Ava said, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t pretend like I’m okay when I’m not.”

She turned away from him slightly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. Her voice cracked as she continued, “I can’t fake smiles when everything inside me is falling apart.”

He took a single step forward.

Then another.

Until he was standing right in front of her.

Ava didn’t move, but her body tensed when his hand lifted, two fingers brushing her jawline, then slowly trailing upward to her cheek, forcing her to meet his eyes. His touch was deliberate, possessive.

His voice dropped lower. “I don’t care how you do it, baby,” he said softly, mockingly. “Put on the mask.”

Ava's breath hitched.

His fingers gripped her chin with enough pressure to make her jaw ache as he pulled her face closer to his. “Take care of this face,” he said with a smirk, “and come out in five minutes.”

And then, he let go.

He turned toward the door. But just before stepping out, he glanced back at her, his eyes dark, a crooked smile playing on his lips as he caught the fire still blazing in hers.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” he said. “I don’t like wasting my time.”

Then he walked out, leaving the door to close behind him with a soft click.

Ava stood still, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears, but none fell. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Not again. Not tonight.

Still, she felt like screaming.

Like tearing down the sterile hospital walls with her bare hands and letting them collapse over her.

How had she ended up like this?

She glanced at Lily one last time, the lump in her throat thick and cruel. “Please wake up soon,” she whispered. “Please... I don’t know how much more I can take.”

She leaned forward, kissed her sister’s forehead once more, and pulled the blanket gently over her shoulder.

Then she walked out.

The night air was cold against her skin when she stepped outside. The hospital lights buzzed behind her, casting a glow she didn’t look back on.

Damien stood beside the car again, his back resting against the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Ava didn’t hesitate.

She walked straight past him and slid into the passenger seat, her posture stiff, eyes staring blankly ahead. Her face was still wet from old tears and had not been fixed. She hadn’t put on makeup. She hadn’t combed her hair. She hadn’t done a damn thing he asked.

Damien said nothing as he entered the driver’s side. The door shut with a thud, and the engine purred to life.

The ride back was suffocatingly silent.

Ava didn’t speak. Her eyes remained fixed on the road ahead, but she wasn’t seeing any of it. Her thoughts were spinning, dragging her deeper into the hollowness inside her chest. And Damien didn’t glance at her this time, and it will not once.

Only the sound of the tires on the pavement filled the space between them, and somewhere in that silence, Ava made a decision.

She wasn’t going to survive this by being the girl he thought she was.

She had to be smarter.

Stronger.