CHAPTER 8
1370 Words
Ariella couldn’t sleep that night.
Every time she closed her eyes, her brain replayed everything the dinner, the fake engagement, Sophia’s smirk, and Damian’s voice echoing in her head:
> “You make me forget the noise. That’s why you scare me.”
She hated that her heart still reacted to his words.
She hated that she didn’t know whether to trust him or run.
And most of all, she hated the message she couldn’t stop staring at:
> Unknown number: “If you want to know what Damian’s hiding, meet me tomorrow. Alone.”
She read it over and over, her chest tightening.
What could he possibly be hiding?
Was Sophia behind it? Or someone else trying to use her to hurt him?
She didn’t know. But one thing was clear she needed answers.
The next morning…
Ariella stood in front of the café mentioned in the text.
A quiet, old-fashioned place tucked into a corner of downtown New York.
Her stomach twisted in knots.
This is a bad idea, her brain warned.
But her heart or maybe her curiosity pushed her forward.
She walked in. The scent of coffee filled the air. A few customers typed on laptops, lost in their own worlds.
Then, from a booth in the back, a voice said,
“Miss Monteverde.”
She turned and froze.
It wasn’t Sophia.
It was Ethan Vale Damian’s half-brother.
The same man who’d been cut off from the family empire years ago after a scandal that nearly destroyed their company.
Ariella’s guard shot up. “Why are you contacting me?”
Ethan smiled charming, confident, but his eyes held mischief. “Because, darling, you’re in way over your head.”
“I’m not interested in your games,” she said sharply. “Whatever you think you’re doing”
He slid a file across the table. “You deserve to know who you’re really working for.”
She didn’t touch it. “Damian’s your brother.”
“And that’s exactly why you should listen.”
Ariella hesitated. Every instinct screamed run, but her hands moved anyway.
She opened the folder photos, documents, newspaper clippings.
Her breath caught.
Damian.
Younger. Smiling beside a woman and a little boy.
Ethan leaned back. “He doesn’t tell anyone about them. His fiancée and their son. Both dead. Car crash, six years ago.”
The world tilted. “That’s… impossible.”
“Oh, it’s very possible,” Ethan said softly. “He blames himself. That’s why he doesn’t believe in love anymore. Why he keeps people at a distance. Why you’ll never get close — not really.”
Ariella’s throat went dry.
“No. You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Then ask him. But don’t be surprised if he lies again.”
She stood, shaken, anger bubbling beneath her fear.
“You don’t care about me. You just want revenge.”
He smirked. “Maybe. But tell me, sweetheart… isn’t part of you dying to know if it’s true?”
Back in her apartment, Ariella couldn’t think straight.
She threw the folder on her couch, but her eyes kept drifting back to it.
The woman’s smile. The boy’s dimples. Damian’s arm around them both.
No. She shouldn’t believe Ethan.
He was bitter, jealous, desperate for attention.
But something in Damian’s eyes the loneliness she’d seen, the way he flinched when people got too close it all made sense now.
Her phone buzzed.
> Damian: “You didn’t show up today. Everything okay?”
She typed, deleted, retyped. Then finally sent:
Ariella: “We need to talk.”
That evening…
Damian’s penthouse felt colder than usual.
He stood by the window, watching the city lights below, his reflection sharp against the glass.
“You look like hell,” he said when she walked in.
“I feel worse,” she shot back. “And I want the truth.”
He turned, frowning. “About what?”
“Your past.”
His jaw tightened. “Be specific.”
“About her,” Ariella said, pulling out the photo.
The woman. The child. Damian smiling.
For a moment, his entire body went still.
“Where did you get that?” His voice dropped low, dangerous.
“So it’s true,” she whispered.
He closed his eyes, pain flickering across his face. “Ethan. He found you.”
“Don’t change the subject,” she snapped. “You lied to me!”
“I didn’t lie,” he said quietly. “I just never told you.”
“Same thing!”
He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You don’t understand. Talking about them doesn’t change what happened.”
“Then make me understand!” she yelled, voice cracking. “Because right now, I don’t know who I’m even working for!”
Silence.
Then Damian spoke, voice barely above a whisper.
“Her name was Elena. We were engaged. The boy Nate was my son.”
Ariella’s heart stopped.
“It was raining that night,” he continued. “They were supposed to meet me for dinner. But I had a meeting. I told them to drive ahead. A truck ran the light. They didn’t make it.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glassy but refusing to break. “I was supposed to be there. I was supposed to protect them. But I didn’t.”
Tears burned at the back of Ariella’s eyes. “Damian…”
“That’s why I don’t do relationships. Why I don’t let anyone in. Because every time I care, I lose someone.”
She stepped closer, wanting to touch him, to comfort him but he flinched away.
“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Don’t pity me.”
“I don’t pity you,” she said softly. “I see you.”
He looked at her then raw, unguarded and for a moment, she saw the man beneath the armor. The one who still carried the weight of love and loss.
They stood in silence, the city humming below them.
Ariella finally whispered, “You can’t keep living like this, Damian. Hiding behind money and walls. It’s killing you.”
He laughed bitterly. “And what do you suggest, Ariella? That I just fall in love again? Pretend the world won’t destroy it all?”
“Maybe not pretend,” she said. “Maybe just… try.”
Their eyes met electricity crackling in the space between them.
For the first time, he didn’t look away.
His hand reached up, hesitated, then brushed a strand of hair from her face.
The touch was soft, fragile like he was scared she’d disappear too.
“Ariella…” he whispered.
She felt her heart pounding, her breath catching. “Yeah?”
But before he could speak CRASH!
The sound of shattering glass exploded behind them.
A rock had been thrown through the window landing at their feet.
Wrapped around it was a note.
“You can’t bury the past forever, Vale.”
Damian’s face went pale.
He grabbed the note, eyes dark with fury.
Ariella stepped back. “What does that mean?”
He didn’t answer. He just clenched the paper in his fist.
“Stay at your apartment tonight,” he ordered.
“Damian”
“Do it, Ariella. Please.”
His voice wasn’t commanding now it was pleading.
Something was wrong. Something bigger than she’d realized.
That night, she couldn’t shake the image of him standing there broken glass around his feet, staring out into the darkness like a man haunted by ghosts.
And as she lay awake, her phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
> “He didn’t tell you everything. Next time, he won’t be able to protect you.”
Her heart pounded.
She stared at the message, fear curling in her stomach.
This wasn’t just about love anymore.
It was about secrets and someone out there was determined to tear them both apart.
Ariella’s phone rang again. Damian’s voice came through, low and tense.
“Don’t go anywhere tomorrow. No work. No interviews. Someone’s watching you.”
Her breath caught. “Watching me? Damian, what’s going on?”
Silence. Then his final words, cold and protective:
“I think Ethan just declared war.”
- Writer
