CHAPTER 33
1134 Words
The dining hall of the Valerius estate looked like something out of a royal portrait—towering ceilings, crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors that reflected soft gold light. It was meant to impress. Overwhelm. Intimidate.
And tonight… it succeeded.
Sienna stood at the entrance, fingers twisting together at her side as she watched the long table fill with people who didn’t want her there.
Damien’s mother, Camilla, sat at the head like some cold, flawless statue. His sisters whispered behind crystal glasses. His uncles and cousins barely acknowledged her presence.
And on the other side of the table, her own family had arrived—her father looking stiff and irritated, her mother picking at her nails, her older sister lifting her chin as if everything around her was beneath her.
Two families.
One table.
One girl they collectively judged.
And Damien…
He hadn’t said a word to her since they stepped into the mansion.
He walked ahead.
He sat ahead.
He didn’t look back at her.
Sienna swallowed hard and forced herself forward.
“Sienna.”
Camilla’s voice sliced through the air like a blade. Sienna stopped.
“It’s good of you to finally join us,” Damien’s mother said, her smile razor-thin. “We were beginning to wonder if you were… lost.”
Laughter rippled down the table—not loud, but sharp enough to stab.
Sienna felt her cheeks heat, but she kept her chin lifted. “I’m on time.”
“Barely,” Camilla replied, taking a delicate sip of wine. “But punctuality was never your strongest trait, was it?”
Her mother—HER mother—gave a soft, approving chuckle.
Sienna’s stomach twisted.
She glanced toward Damien, hoping—hoping—for something. A frown, a look, a word. But he was sitting tall in his chair, posture perfect, eyes fixed on the table as if none of this was happening.
As if she was invisible.
As if he didn’t hear a damn thing.
Her heart tightened.
She took her seat beside him.
Because she had to. Because she was his wife. Because there was nowhere else to sit.
Damien shifted a little, giving her room, but he didn’t touch her. Didn’t greet her. Didn’t even glance at her.
His jaw was tight. His expression unreadable.
The distance between them felt colder than the winter wind.
Dinner was served in immaculate courses—roasted duck glazed with citrus, truffle mashed potatoes, tiny portions placed on plates that cost more than most people’s rent.
And yet Sienna couldn’t taste a thing.
The conversation flowed around her, but never to her.
Damien’s sister leaned in, eyes bright with cruelty. “Mother, did you hear? Sienna still hasn’t adjusted to the house rules. The staff says she spends most of her time alone.”
Another snicker.
Another hit.
Her mother rolled her eyes. “She’s always been like that. Never quite… fitting in. It’s been a lifelong struggle.”
Sienna’s throat tightened.
They weren’t even subtle.
They weren’t even trying to hide it.
Camilla’s lips curled. “Well. Some women simply aren’t bred for the life of the elite. It’s nothing personal. Some are born to rise—” her eyes flicked to Sienna “—and some… are born to cling.”
The table laughed softly.
Sienna’s fork trembled.
Damien’s jaw ticked—just barely—but he didn’t speak.
Didn’t defend her.
Didn’t correct them.
Didn’t stop them.
He stared at his plate as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world.
And that…
hurt more than anything.
“Sienna, dear,” her sister chimed in, voice dripping sweet venom, “why don’t you tell everyone what you’ve been doing lately? Or… have you been doing nothing?”
Sienna swallowed hard. “I’ve been settling into the house. Learning the staff. Helping with—”
“Oh, please,” her father cut in, waving a dismissive hand. “Stop embarrassing yourself. You sound like a maid, not a Valerius.”
Damien’s family smiled at that.
Her heart cracked.
She looked at Damien. Not for help. Just for… acknowledgment.
He didn’t look back.
The humiliation built until it became something unbearable.
She felt small.
She felt stupid.
She felt painfully, painfully alone.
And the worst part?
Her husband sat beside her like a stone.
His silence was permission.
His silence was agreement.
His silence was betrayal.
She pressed her fingers against the table, trying to anchor herself. The edges of her vision shimmered, but she blinked hard, refusing to let a single tear fall here. Not in front of them. Not now.
Camilla set down her glass, eyes settling on Sienna like she was something rotten at the bottom of her shoe.
“Perhaps, in time, you will learn to present yourself better, dear. All we ask is that you try.”
Try.
Try to be enough.
Try to be someone she wasn’t.
Try to survive a room full of people who wanted her to fail.
Sienna’s hands curled into fists beneath the table.
She wasn’t going to break.
Not for them.
Not like this.
She was about to speak—finally—when Damien’s mother added:
“But maybe we should discuss something more pleasant.”
She smiled at the table.
“At least we know Damien didn’t choose her.”
The words were soft.
But they shattered Sienna’s chest like glass.
Her breath caught.
Her vision blurred.
Her heart cracked open in front of everyone.
A silence followed—a cruel, delighted silence from the people who wanted to see her crumble.
Sienna waited for Damien to say something.
Anything.
But he didn’t.
He kept his eyes on his plate, fingers gripping the silverware so tightly the veins in his hand stood out. His expression was a mask.
Cold.
Unreachable.
Silent.
Sienna’s heart slipped a little further.
“Excuse me.”
Her voice was quiet. Steady.
Too steady.
She pushed her chair back. Slowly. Gracefully.
Because she refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fall apart.
She stood.
Smoothed the front of her dress.
And walked out of the dining room.
Not one person stopped her.
Not one person called after her.
Not even Damien.
But as she turned down the hallway, her chest finally gave out.
A single tear fell.
Then another.
Then her breath hitched in a broken, silent gasp.
The cold war she could handle.
His distance she could endure.
But this?
Sitting beside him while their families insulted her—
and Damien said nothing—
was a different kind of pain.
One she didn’t know how to survive.
She pressed a hand to her mouth to stop the sob rising in her throat.
Behind her, the dining room door remained closed.
Damien didn’t come after her.
And that…
destroyed her.
- Writer
