The Billionaire's Reluctant Bride

The Conversation In The Dark

SERENA

The manor was quiet at night, a stark contrast to the tension that filled its halls during the day. The soft ticking of an antique clock echoed in the vast living room, its hands creeping past midnight. A fire burned low in the massive stone fireplace, casting flickering shadows against the walls.

I sat curled up in the corner of the plush leather couch, my arms wrapped around myself as I stared into the flames. The warmth barely touched the coldness that had settled deep inside me since Eleanor’s passing.

Damien was there too, sitting in the armchair across from me, a crystal glass of whiskey dangling between his fingers. He hadn’t spoken for a while, only the occasional sound of ice shifting in his glass breaking the silence.

But then, finally, he spoke.

“You shouldn’t let them pressure you.” His voice was quiet but firm, carrying that same controlled intensity he always had.

I turned my gaze to him, studying the way the firelight played against his sharp features. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, his tie loosened as if even he was exhausted by tonight’s conversation.

“You think they’ll stop?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Damien exhaled sharply, rubbing his fingers over his temple. “No,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you have to give in to them.”

I let out a humorless laugh, sinking deeper into the couch. “And what about you? You’re acting like this is only my problem when they’re just as determined to force you into this marriage too.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching me with those unreadable dark eyes. “I’m used to them trying to control my life.”

His words shouldn’t have surprised me, but they did.

Of course, he was used to it.

Damien had spent his entire life under the weight of his family’s expectations, molded into the perfect businessman, the perfect heir, the perfect everything.

Unlike me.

I had been the younger, overlooked daughter—the one who didn’t have to carry the world on her shoulders. That role had always belonged to Eleanor.

Eleanor.

I looked away, staring back into the fire. “Do you ever think about what she would have wanted?” I asked quietly.

Damien was silent for a long time, and when I finally glanced back at him, his jaw was tight, his expression unreadable.

“Every damn day,” he murmured.

Something in my chest twisted painfully.

I swallowed hard. “She would have hated this,” I whispered. “The way everyone is trying to decide what’s best for the twins like they’re a burden to be passed around. Like we’re some—some convenient solution.”

Damien’s grip on his glass tightened. “I know.”

The fire crackled between us, the heat almost suffocating.

After a long moment, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed his gaze on me. “And what about you?” he asked.

I frowned. “What about me?”

“What do you think about all this?” His voice was calm, but his eyes were searching. “About them trying to force us into a marriage neither of us wants?”

I felt my throat tighten.

I wanted to say that I hated it. That it was absurd. That I would never agree to something like this.

But the words stuck in my throat.

Because, deep down, a small part of me feared what would happen if I left.

The twins barely let anyone else hold them. Lucas cried if I left the room for too long, and Lucy clung to my dress whenever I tried to put her down.

If I walked away… what would happen to them?

What would happen to Damien?

I looked at him then, really looked at him.

For weeks, I had been so focused on the twins that I hadn’t stopped to think about how much Damien had lost too.

Eleanor had been his wife. His partner.

And now, she was gone.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. “I think…” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “I think they’re doing what they always do—deciding what’s best for everyone without actually considering how we feel.”

Damien’s lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, but something close. “That’s a nice way of saying they’re being manipulative.”

I smirked despite myself. “Maybe.”

The moment stretched between us, quiet but heavy.

Damien leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “I won’t force you into anything,” he said finally. “No matter what they say.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest ache.

Because as much as he was saying it for me, I knew he was also saying it for himself.

He didn’t want this either.

And yet, somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end of the conversation.

That no matter how much we resisted…

Fate—or our families—would eventually have their way.

Chapter Seven: A Conversation in the Dark

Serena’s POV

The manor was quiet at night, a stark contrast to the tension that filled its halls during the day. The soft ticking of an antique clock echoed in the vast living room, its hands creeping past midnight. A fire burned low in the massive stone fireplace, casting flickering shadows against the walls.

I sat curled up in the corner of the plush leather couch, my arms wrapped around myself as I stared into the flames. The warmth barely touched the coldness that had settled deep inside me since Eleanor’s passing.

Damien was there too, sitting in the armchair across from me, a crystal glass of whiskey dangling between his fingers. He hadn’t spoken for a while, only the occasional sound of ice shifting in his glass breaking the silence.

But then, finally, he spoke.

“You shouldn’t let them pressure you.” His voice was quiet but firm, carrying that same controlled intensity he always had.

I turned my gaze to him, studying the way the firelight played against his sharp features. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, his tie loosened as if even he was exhausted by tonight’s conversation.

“You think they’ll stop?” I asked, my voice softer than I intended.

Damien exhaled sharply, rubbing his fingers over his temple. “No,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you have to give in to them.”

I let out a humorless laugh, sinking deeper into the couch. “And what about you? You’re acting like this is only my problem when they’re just as determined to force you into this marriage too.”

He tilted his head slightly, watching me with those unreadable dark eyes. “I’m used to them trying to control my life.”

His words shouldn’t have surprised me, but they did.

Of course, he was used to it.

Damien had spent his entire life under the weight of his family’s expectations, molded into the perfect businessman, the perfect heir, the perfect everything.

Unlike me.

I had been the younger, overlooked daughter—the one who didn’t have to carry the world on her shoulders. That role had always belonged to Eleanor.

Eleanor.

I looked away, staring back into the fire. “Do you ever think about what she would have wanted?” I asked quietly.

Damien was silent for a long time, and when I finally glanced back at him, his jaw was tight, his expression unreadable.

“Every damn day,” he murmured.

Something in my chest twisted painfully.

I swallowed hard. “She would have hated this,” I whispered. “The way everyone is trying to decide what’s best for the twins like they’re a burden to be passed around. Like we’re some—some convenient solution.”

Damien’s grip on his glass tightened. “I know.”

The fire crackled between us, the heat almost suffocating.

After a long moment, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixed his gaze on me. “And what about you?” he asked.

I frowned. “What about me?”

“What do you think about all this?” His voice was calm, but his eyes were searching. “About them trying to force us into a marriage neither of us wants?”

I felt my throat tighten.

I wanted to say that I hated it. That it was absurd. That I would never agree to something like this.

But the words stuck in my throat.

Because, deep down, a small part of me feared what would happen if I left.

The twins barely let anyone else hold them. Lucas cried if I left the room for too long, and Lucy clung to my dress whenever I tried to put her down.

If I walked away… what would happen to them?

What would happen to Damien?

I looked at him then, really looked at him.

For weeks, I had been so focused on the twins that I hadn’t stopped to think about how much Damien had lost too.

Eleanor had been his wife. His partner.

And now, she was gone.

I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. “I think…” I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “I think they’re doing what they always do—deciding what’s best for everyone without actually considering how we feel.”

Damien’s lips curved slightly, not quite a smile, but something close. “That’s a nice way of saying they’re being manipulative.”

I smirked despite myself. “Maybe.”

The moment stretched between us, quiet but heavy.

Damien leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “I won’t force you into anything,” he said finally. “No matter what they say.”

Something about the way he said it made my chest ache.

Because as much as he was saying it for me, I knew he was also saying it for himself.

He didn’t want this either.

And yet, somehow, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end of the conversation.

That no matter how much we resisted…

Fate—or our families—would eventually have their way.