The Devils Game

Chapter 2: The devils game

Twenty-three hours and forty-seven minutes.

That was how long I'd been running on adrenaline and rage.

The hotel room was a disaster. Clothes covered the bed, papers littered the desk, and my laptop displayed a dozen tabs I'd stopped reading hours ago.

I hadn't slept since the church.

I couldn't.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.

Evangeline.

My daughter.

The photograph was still clutched in my hand. I'd stared at it for hours, memorizing her face. The dark hair. The little dimple in her chin. The smile I'd never seen in person.

Six years of believing I had lost everything.

And now I knew I'd been missing something I hadn't even known existed.

I forced myself to focus on the file I'd taken from Damon's penthouse. Medical records. Financial documents. Surveillance photographs.

Everything led to an estate outside the city.

My daughter's home.

I needed access.

I needed a plan.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I answered.

"Aria."

Damon.

His voice was smooth, controlled, infuriatingly familiar.

"What do you want?"

"To remind you that the clock is ticking."

"Trust me. I haven't forgotten."

"Good. Then you've thought about my offer."

"I've thought about nothing else."

Silence.

Then his voice softened.

"She asks about you."

My heart stopped.

"Evangeline," he continued. "Every night she asks when she'll meet her mama. I show her your pictures. I tell her stories about you. She knows who you are."

I closed my eyes.

"You're a monster."

"I'm her father."

"You kept her from me."

"I kept her safe."

"You don't get to play the victim, Damon. You killed my father. You destroyed my company."

"Your father was a threat."

"So you murdered him."

"I protected my family."

I laughed bitterly.

"You don't have a family. You have victims."

His voice cracked.

"She's not a thing, Aria. She's my daughter. Our daughter."

Silence.

Then he said, "Meet me at the estate. Tonight."

My heart raced.

"Why?"

"You can have dinner with Evangeline. Spend time with her. See for yourself that she's happy."

I hated the idea of accepting anything from him.

But my daughter was there.

"Eight o'clock."

"I'll send a car."

"I'll drive myself."

A faint smile entered his voice.

"Of course you will."

The line went dead.

I looked at Evangeline's photograph.

I'm coming, baby.

---

Eight o'clock.

The estate looked like a castle surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens.

Damon opened the door before I could knock.

Black shirt. Dark trousers. Grey eyes fixed on mine.

"You came."

"Don't sound surprised."

"I'm not."

I walked inside.

And stopped.

Photographs covered the foyer.

Evangeline as a baby. Evangeline taking her first steps. Evangeline at the beach.

And in almost every picture, there was another face.

Mine.

Old photographs. Magazine clippings. Surveillance images.

I stared at Damon.

"What is this?"

"I wanted her to know who you were."

"You could have let me know she existed."

His expression hardened.

"I know."

"You kept my daughter from me."

"I know."

He looked away.

"She was all I had left of you."

I felt sick.

"You're insane."

"Maybe."

He looked toward the kitchen.

"But I'm also the only person who can give you what you want."

"Evangeline?"

He nodded.

"You can see her. Spend time with her. Then decide."

"Decide what?"

"Whether you'll destroy me and lose her forever, or stay."

"Stay?"

"Here. With me. With Evangeline."

I almost laughed.

"You killed my father, destroyed everything I built, and kept my daughter from me for three years. And you expect me to play happy family?"

"I expect you to see what I've built for her."

He stepped aside.

"She's waiting."

I walked into the kitchen.

And there she was.

Evangeline sat at the table, coloring with purple crayons. Dark hair in pigtails. Pink dress covered in tiny hearts.

She looked up.

"Are you my mama?"

The tears came instantly.

"Yes, baby."

She ran into my arms.

I caught her and held her tightly.

"I knew you were real," she whispered. "Daddy showed me pictures."

"I'm real."

"Where have you been?"

"I've been looking for you."

"Did you get lost?"

I laughed through my tears.

"Yeah. But I found you now."

She pulled back.

"Are you going to stay?"

I looked at Damon.

"I don't know yet, baby."

She grabbed my hand.

"Can I show you my room?"

"Of course."

For the first time in six years, I held my daughter's hand.

Nothing else mattered.

---

Her room was everything a little girl could dream of.

Pink walls. A canopy bed. Shelves filled with books and stuffed animals.

On the nightstand sat a photograph of me.

"I keep you there," Evangeline said. "So I can see you before I sleep."

My heart broke.

"Sometimes I talk to it. I tell you about my day."

I dropped to my knees.

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't know."

"But you're here now."

She hugged me.

And I finally let myself cry.

We spent hours together.

She showed me her favorite books, toys, and the garden where she played. She told me about Barnaby, her golden retriever, Margaret the nanny, and Damon.

"He reads me stories," she said. "He taught me to ride my bike."

Every word complicated the monster I'd created in my head.

Then came dinner.

Damon had arranged an elaborate meal, but I barely touched it.

I watched Evangeline instead.

Afterward, Damon put her to bed.

I watched from the doorway as he read to her and kissed her forehead.

When he returned, I confronted him.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because I love her."

"And?"

His eyes met mine.

"I love you."

I froze.

"You killed my father."

"I did."

"You destroyed everything I loved."

"I did."

"You kept my daughter from me."

"I did."

"Then why?"

"Because I was terrified of losing you."

"You're insane."

"Maybe."

He stepped closer.

"But I've always loved you."

For one terrible moment, I saw the man I'd once loved beneath everything he'd become.

Then I stepped away.

"I don't forgive you."

"I know."

"I don't trust you."

"I know."

"I don't know what I'm going to do."

"You love her more than you hate me."

I hated that he was right.

I left.

---

I drove for hours, thinking about Evangeline.

Her smile.

Her voice.

Her little hand in mine.

I thought about Damon too.

His confession.

His cruelty.

His love.

And the horrifying truth that my hatred for him had never been as simple as I'd wanted it to be.

Eventually, I stopped outside the hotel.

I looked at Evangeline's photograph.

Then called Damon.

"You're going to stay," he said.

"I'm going to stay."

A pause.

"But I'm setting rules."

"I'm listening."

"I'm going to be Evangeline's mother. You're not going to stop me."

"I won't."

"This doesn't mean I forgive you."

"I know."

"It doesn't mean I trust you."

"I know."

"And I'm still planning to destroy you."

Silence.

"Then why stay?"

"Because she deserves her mother. And I deserve to know my daughter."

"Fair enough."

I hung up.

Then drove back to the estate.

---

It was nearly midnight when I arrived.

Damon was waiting in the foyer.

"I wasn't sure you'd come back."

"Neither was I."

"Evangeline will be happy."

"Don't pretend this is a happy ending."

His expression changed.

"I know better than that."

"I am not here because I forgive you."

"I know."

"You don't own me."

"No."

"You don't own Evangeline."

"I never said I did."

"You acted like it."

He looked toward the staircase.

"You're right."

The admission surprised me.

Then he said, "There's something you should know."

"What?"

"The police called."

My stomach tightened.

"They found new evidence from the night your father died."

I stared at him.

"What kind of evidence?"

"I don't know."

"Then why tell me?"

"Because it could change everything."

Before I could ask more, a creak came from upstairs.

We both looked toward the staircase.

Evangeline's bedroom door was slightly open.

Damon rushed upstairs.

The window was open.

The lock had been tampered with.

"Someone was here," he said.

A noise came from downstairs.

Then the lights went out.

Damon disappeared into the darkness.

I stayed with Evangeline.

Minutes later, he returned with a small cut near his eyebrow.

"He's gone."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

He walked to Evangeline's nightstand and picked up the photograph of me.

His face went pale.

He turned it over.

Three words were written on the back.

SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING.

I stared at him.

"Who wrote that?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Then why do you look terrified?"

He looked at the message.

"Because I know who 'she' might be."

"Who?"

He hesitated.

"Your mother."

My blood went cold.

"My mother is dead."

"That's what everyone believed."

I stared at him.

"Then what are you saying?"

"I never saw her body."

The room seemed to tilt.

"Your mother disappeared the night your father died."

I couldn't breathe.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I spent six years looking for her."

"And?"

"I found nothing."

I looked at Evangeline.

Then Damon.

Then the photograph.

For six years, I'd believed Damon was the beginning and end of my nightmare.

Now I wasn't sure.

Maybe he'd been hiding the truth.

Or maybe he'd been protecting me from something far worse.

Damon's voice was quiet.

"Whatever happens next, don't trust anyone."

I looked at him.

"Not even you?"

His eyes hardened.

"Especially not me."

And somewhere beyond the estate walls, someone was watching.

Waiting.

Because the game had never really been about Damon and me.

We had only just discovered the board.