Chapter One: Velvet Lies
1079 Words
Chapter One: Velvet Lies
The Mediterranean sun dipped low, casting a molten trail across the sea. The yacht, Wolfe’s Pride, was anchored in a secluded cove off the coast of Capri. Golden light filtered through fluttering linen sails, wrapping the world in a honeyed haze.
It was a dream—one Aurora Sinclair never dared dream for herself. Not until Damien Wolfe.
He leaned against the railing, bare-chested, a glass of scotch in hand, looking every bit like the powerful enigma the tabloids described. But tonight, he wasn’t Damien Wolfe, the billionaire or the cold executive who built empires with a single signature. He was hers—eyes soft, lips curled into a rare, unguarded smile.
Aurora sat cross-legged on the padded deck lounge, sketchbook on her lap. Her fingers were stained with charcoal, and the ocean breeze tugged at the silk scarf in her hair. She looked up at him, heart clenching.
“Don’t move,” she said, smirking. “I want to remember this exact moment.”
“You’re sketching me?” Damien raised a brow, amused.
She gave a playful shrug. “You inspire things.”
He stepped closer, crouching beside her. “Funny. You inspire things, too, Aurora Sinclair. Things I’ve tried to forget.”
Her smile faltered just slightly. “Like what?”
“Hope,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “Peace. Desire that isn’t... strategic.”
She stared at him, caught in the warm gravity of his words. There were moments—brief, dazzling moments—when she forgot who he was. When she allowed herself to believe this man wasn’t too dangerous, too distant. That maybe she could be more than a passing fascination to him.
She talked about her past relationships where she was always the one igniting the sparks to see that the flames don’t go down.
But here she is in a world of luxury and affluence. Cruising in a multi-million-dollar yacht, drinking the best champagne, and eating the best Italian cuisine.
“Come with me,” he whispered, rising and offering his hand.
She took it.
He led her below deck, into the master suite—a space of polished mahogany, velvet sheets, and shadows. The yacht swayed gently as he pressed his lips to hers, slow and searching. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His hands roamed her back, his mouth whispered promises on her skin. They made love like the sea: fierce and calm all at once.
And in the soft silence after, curled against his chest, she heard him say, “I want to be better, because of you.”
That was the night she fell completely.
Three weeks later, Aurora stood in the rain outside the ruins of her studio. The building had been locked. Her name was ripped from the glass door. Her staff members were laid off. Her accounts are frozen.
Her designs leaked online and were discredited as stolen. A court notice was pinned to the door.
Fraud. Embezzlement. Intellectual theft.
Her name was splashed across headlines within hours. Designer Darling Turns Devil.
Everything—everything she’d worked for—was gone.
She tried to call Damien. No answer.
She went to his penthouse. The doorman looked at her like a stranger. “Mr Wolfe doesn’t know anyone by that name.”
Never mind.
She called Zara, her friend and PR Manager. No answer
She called her former mentor, Celeste Wynn, but her number was busy.
She called the second time, but could not be reached.
She called her colleagues in the industry.
But no one was ready to pick up her calls.
In desperation, she waited outside his building until his car finally pulled up. He stepped out, suited, flawless, indifferent. As if she were a stranger on the street.
“Damien?” Her voice cracked.
His gaze flicked over her like she was gum on his shoe. “You shouldn’t be here, Miss Sinclair.”
“What—what is going on? My company—my brand-is gone. I don’t understand. You said—”
He cut her off with a sharp look. “Whatever you think happened between us, I suggest you forget it. Your little fashion endeavor was always fragile. Don’t look to me for salvation.”
She blinked through the downpour, heart pounding. “You helped me launch that expansion deal. You introduced me to investors—”
He leaned in close, his voice low and razor-sharp. “You should’ve read the fine print, darling. I didn’t help you. I acquired you. And now I’ve divested.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
A ghost with a smile touched his lips. “Revenge." You just don’t know what for yet.”
Then he walked away, leaving her trembling, soaked, and broken on the steps of a world that had once welcomed her.
That night, in the cold shell of a spare apartment, Aurora found the betrayal carved in black-and-white.
Right on top of a table, A leaked article. A staged financial scandal. A forged lawsuit was filed against her for “intellectual theft” and “contract breach.” All false—but all signed with names tied to Damien Wolfe’s empire.
A week ago, she kissed him under starlight. Now she is rejected across Europe.
As she stared at her shattered reputation on the glowing screen, one question screamed louder than the rest: What had she done to deserve this?
But deeper still, beneath the panic, the shame, the fury, was another feeling she couldn’t drown.
Love.
Love, twisted and bloody and wrong.
She wiped her eyes, jaw clenching.
Damien Wolfe wanted war?
Then he had underestimated what it meant to destroy a woman who’d built her dreams from nothing.
And she would make him regret it.
Then she suddenly realized that she didn’t even know where she was.
The last thing she could remember was that she was talking to Damien, and he drove off.
Only to find herself in a bed, covered with white blankets and a change of clothes.
With a cup of coffee by her side.
The atmosphere in the room was quiet and calm.
She then thought it was a k********g. On second thought, why were those documents kept for me to see? Why didn’t they hide it from me? She asked herself.
As she was still in a world of her own.
Just then, the room door opened…
- Writer
