Chapter17
1389 Words
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
The sharp sound of the door slamming shut behind her echoed in the silence like a warning shot. Ava didn’t wait for Damien. She didn’t even glance back. She made her way upstairs, her heels clicking against the marble steps like a countdown to collapse.
Her fingers shook as she reached for her door. She twisted the lock behind her with finality, sealing herself in… or maybe trying to keep the world out.
The lights were off, but the moonlight spilled through the tall glass windows, casting a silver glow across the pristine room Damien had given her. A room that felt more like a cage the longer she stayed in it.
She didn’t bother turning the lights on.
She just walked, numb, to the bed and fell face-down onto the soft covers.
At first, there was only stillness.
Her eyes stared blankly at the white of the pillowcase. Her chest rose and fell, shallow and silent. It was as if her body refused to let it out, refused to shatter.
But the silence was only the eye of the storm.
The trembling began in her fingertips… then her shoulders. Her throat tightened. Her breath hitched.
And then the dam broke.
Hot, wrenching sobs ripped from her chest as she buried her face deeper into the pillow. The sound of it muffled but violent filled the room like a siren.
“Why?” she cried into the cotton. “Why are you doing this to me?”
She screamed again, louder, shaking as her tears soaked into the fabric.
“It’s your fault, Ethan,” she choked. “You ruined me.”
Her voice cracked, raw with grief.
“I gave you everything… my time, my love… my f*****g career and you still threw me away.”
Her fists slammed into the bed as more tears flooded her cheeks. She pulled the pillow over her head, trying to block it all out.
“I lost my job because of you,” she cried. “I kept leaving work just because you called… just because you wanted food, or s*x, or whatever you felt entitled to.”
A harsh, broken laugh escaped her lips like a sob twisted in pain.
“You said if I didn’t come, you’d find someone else… so I came. I always come.”
Her nails dug into the sheets.
“I was your puppet. And I let you pull the strings. I ruined everything for you. I let you make me small.”
Her voice dropped into a whisper.
“No… it’s not just your fault.”
She clutched her chest as if trying to hold her own heart together.
“It’s mine. It’s my fault.”
“If I had just focused on my job… on myself… If I hadn’t loved you so damn much, maybe I’d still have my life. Maybe I wouldn’t be stuck in this house, in this contract… with this….this devil.”
Her sobs grew harsher again.
“I could’ve found a way,” she wept. “Maybe my salary wasn’t enough, but I would’ve figured something out. Anything. I wouldn’t have gone to that bar.”
Her lips quivered as she gasped in frustration.
“Oh God. Fuck.”
She collapsed back onto the bed, breathing raggedly, her mascara smeared across her cheeks and onto the white pillow.
Her body shook.
Her voice faded into whimpers.
Then.
There was a knock on the door.
A soft, low tap echoed from the door.
Ava’s breath caught.
She froze.
Her red-rimmed eyes turned toward the sound. Her heart beat faster. Her voice was gone, her body trembling from the weight of everything she’d just let out.
Another knock.
Slower this time. More deliberate.
She didn't move.
But her tears kept falling.
Her fingers curled around the sheets.
She knew it was him.
Damien.
The knock faded into silence.
Then came his voice.
Low. Calm. Unyielding.
“Ava,” Damien called through the door. “Come downstairs to eat.”
She didn’t respond.
Her face was still damp with tears, her breathing uneven. She used the back of her hand to swipe under her eyes. It barely helped. The mascara stains had already made their mark.
“I know you’re not sleeping,” his voice came again, sharper this time. “So open the damn door.”
She still said nothing.
Her fingers tightened on the edge of the bed. She was tired. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to obey him.
But then,
“I have the keys,” he warned. “Don’t make me open it myself.”
Ava’s eyes widened.
She stared at the door like it had personally offended her. “This motherfucker…” she muttered under her breath.
Her stomach gave a loud growl. The betrayal made her wince.
“Fine,” she whispered. “I’m hungry anyway. I should go.”
She rose from the bed with a deep sigh, dragging herself to the door. She unlocked it and pulled it open and immediately stopped short.
Damien was standing there.
In an apron.
A black apron was tied around his waist, over his usual dress shirt and slacks. He looked completely out of place. And Ava… nearly burst out laughing.
The corners of her lips twitched despite herself.
But she swallowed it back down and walked past him wordlessly, chin raised in defiance.
As she descended the staircase, the rich aroma of tomato, garlic, and herbs hit her senses. It made her pause. Her body responded instantly, hungry, aching, and a little confused.
By the time she reached the dining room, the sight in front of her stole what little breath she had left.
A beautifully plated dish of spaghetti sat on the table. Not just any spaghetti kind. Twirled and dressed the Italian way. Garnished with fresh herbs. Warm bread on the side. A full glass of red wine.
It looked like a five-star meal.
Her stomach growled again, louder this time.
She hesitated, then slowly walked over and sat at the table. Her eyes remained on the food, then flicked to Damien as he took the seat across from her.
He looked calm. Collected. The apron was still on.
“Eat,” he said simply.
Ava narrowed her eyes. “What if you added something to it?” she asked suspiciously. “Something bad?”
Damien’s brow arched. “I wouldn’t pay for your sister’s surgery just to poison you.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“So eat,” he added, “before it gets cold. And stop being a child.”
She huffed but picked up her fork.
She stabbed into the pasta, twirled a bite, and brought it to her lips. The moment it hit her tongue, her brows shot up. Flavor burst across her mouth, rich, balanced, unexpectedly delicious.
She chewed slowly, unable to hide the surprise from her expression.
Damien leaned back, smug. “Good, huh?”
Ava rolled her eyes, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. But she had to be real. “It’s… it’s nice,” she muttered reluctantly.
He smirked. “I know.”
She hissed softly, biting back a groan. “Too full of yourself,” she muttered under her breath.
The rest of the dinner passed in silence.
But not peaceful silence.
Damien kept stealing glances at her.
She could feel it, his eyes drifting to her face every few moments. But she didn’t meet his gaze. She didn’t give him that. Not tonight.
When she finished, she set her fork down carefully, pushing the plate away. Before she could rise, Damien stood up, picked up his plate and hers, and walked into the kitchen.
She heard the running water.
The clinking of dishes.
Still, she sat there, unsure of how to feel.
Then,
He returned.
No apron this time. Just Damien, standing at the edge of the table. Tall. Still. Dangerous.
He looked at her.
His voice was quiet. Barely a murmur.
“I’m sorry I made you cry. Good night.”
Then he turned and walked away without another word.
Ava blinked.
The words echoed in her head, like a slap and a whisper at the same time.
Did Damien Valen just apologize?
She almost choked on the air.
- Writer
