Chapter 15
1185 Words
The silence that followed the leaked photos was not relief—it was the kind of quiet that came before a hurricane.
Calla sat stiffly on the edge of Damian’s bed, clutching the edge of the silk sheets with trembling hands. Every screen in the penthouse had gone black, turned off in haste. News reports had picked up the story: “Billionaire Damian Vale’s Secret Wife Revealed”—along with a grainy image of her kissing Damian at the charity gala and another from the courthouse steps.
“What are you going to do?” she asked finally, unable to keep her voice from shaking.
Damian leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window with his hands in his pockets, the skyline glowing like fire behind him. “Contain the damage. Destroy whoever leaked it.”
“And if it was Celeste?”
His jaw tightened. “Then she’s already made the biggest mistake of her life.”
Calla watched him, her heart aching at how exhausted he looked. This wasn’t the man who had once smirked through every business deal, who controlled rooms with silence. He looked… undone.
“I told you,” she said quietly, “this marriage wasn’t built to survive a war.”
“No,” he said, finally turning to face her. “But you were.”
That stunned her.
He crossed the room slowly, stopping in front of her, his voice dropping to something dangerous and intimate. “Don’t ever underestimate what you’ve become to me, Calla. I don’t care what the headlines say.”
“But I do,” she whispered. “Because the world doesn’t know this is fake.”
His expression shifted. “Is it still fake to you?”
The question sliced into her. She rose from the bed, needing space. “You can’t ask me that, not after everything.”
He reached for her, but she backed away. “You kissed me last night like you meant it. You touched me like you wanted me. Don’t tell me that was pretend.”
“Then tell me the truth,” she demanded, trembling. “If I was just another move in your game against Celeste—if this whole marriage was a way to spite her—then say it. Say it to my face.”
His silence said everything.
“I thought so,” she choked.
Damian moved fast. Too fast. In a heartbeat, she was pinned between him and the wall, his hand resting just above her head, his breath warm on her skin.
“It started that way,” he admitted. “But it’s not that anymore. You changed everything, Calla.”
She wanted to believe him.
But her heart was still bleeding from every time he’d kept her in the dark, every time he’d let Celeste twist the truth in front of cameras and boardrooms.
“And what about her?” Calla asked, her voice small. “She still wears your ring like she owns a piece of you.”
“Celeste doesn’t own anything but her own delusions.”
“Then prove it.”
A challenge. A dare.
He kissed her like an answer.
It wasn’t slow or sweet—it was desperate, wild, bruising. His hands tangled in her hair, hers clutched his shirt, and the dam they’d both built finally crumbled. Heat, passion, pain—every emotion they’d buried erupted.
He lifted her without breaking the kiss, laying her down on the bed like she was something precious and dangerous all at once.
Her nails scratched down his back. His lips traced the curve of her collarbone.
“I hate that I need you like this,” he whispered.
“Then we’re both in trouble,” she breathed.
Hours later, long after the fire of their bodies had dimmed to smoldering embers, Calla lay beside him, wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
“Why do you let her win?” she asked softly. “Celeste.”
Damian was quiet for a moment. “Because I owed her. Once.”
“What happened?”
He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It does to me.”
He turned to her, his eyes shadowed. “I chose my career over her love. She was mine once, and I threw it away for power. She never forgave me.”
“So she decided to ruin every relationship you ever had after.”
His jaw clenched. “Exactly.”
“But now you have me.”
That made him pause.
“I don’t mean as your wife,” she continued. “I mean as someone who could be more—if you stop punishing yourself.”
“I’m not the kind of man you want, Calla.”
“Then stop being that man.”
He looked at her like she was offering him salvation—and he didn’t believe he deserved it.
The next morning
The tabloids were in flames.
But Calla didn’t flinch. She walked into Vale Tower in a tailored navy suit, chin high, fingers laced with Damian’s in full view of every camera.
Celeste was waiting in the lobby, dressed like a viper in silk.
“Darling,” she purred. “How brave of you to show your face.”
Calla smiled sweetly. “I was going to say the same to you.”
Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “Enjoy playing the role, dear. Because the curtain’s about to fall.”
“Let it fall,” Calla replied coolly. “We’ll see who’s left standing.”
As they entered the elevator, Damian didn’t speak until the doors shut.
“What are you planning?” he asked her.
Calla’s eyes sparkled. “To end this.”
“How?”
She turned to him with a small, dangerous smile. “By giving her exactly what she wants—then pulling it away.”
That night
Calla sat alone in Celeste’s private lounge, invited by the woman herself. It was a trap, of course. She knew that. But she wasn’t afraid anymore.
Celeste entered, all venomous beauty and smugness. “How generous of you to come.”
“I thought it was time we stopped pretending.”
Celeste poured them both a drink. “Then let’s drop the act. You’re nothing more than a placeholder, Calla. He’ll come back to me. He always does.”
“Then why are you so scared of me?”
That made Celeste falter.
“You knew it the moment he married me,” Calla continued. “You knew something changed. That’s why you leaked the story.”
Celeste’s smirk faded.
Calla stood slowly. “You want the truth? He never kissed you like he kisses me.”
Celeste threw the drink.
Calla didn’t flinch.
“Next time,” she said coldly, brushing vodka from her jacket, “aim better.”
Then she walked out, head high.
Outside, Damian was waiting for her in the car, eyes burning with questions.
“What happened in there?”
She buckled her seatbelt. “I lit the match. Now we wait for the fire.”
- Writer
