CHAPTER 9: THE SMILE THAT CUTS DEEPER
1122 Words
The morning after the dinner arrived without mercy.
My body woke before my mind did, muscles tense, heart already heavy. For a brief moment, I lay still, staring at the pale light filtering through the curtains, pretending I was somewhere else—anywhere that didn’t carry Damien Blackwood’s name.
But reality had a way of dragging me back.
I dressed slowly, choosing another muted outfit. It had become my armor. If I looked plain enough, invisible enough, maybe the world would stop demanding pieces of me.
Downstairs, the mansion buzzed with unusual activity.
Voices echoed. Footsteps moved faster than normal. I paused at the staircase, gripping the railing lightly.
Something was happening.
“Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood.”
I turned to see Damien’s assistant, Marcus, standing nearby with a tablet in hand. He gave me a polite nod, his expression neutral but curious.
“Good morning,” I replied. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes,” he said. “There’s a press meeting scheduled for noon. Mr. Blackwood asked that you be present.”
My stomach dropped.
“A press meeting?” I repeated.
He nodded. “Just a brief appearance. Nothing extensive.”
Nothing extensive.
That was never true.
Before I could ask anything else, Damien’s voice cut in from behind me. “Marcus.”
He walked toward us, already dressed immaculately, every inch the confident CEO. His eyes flicked to me briefly, assessing.
“You’re coming,” he said, not as a request.
“I didn’t know,” I said carefully.
“You don’t need to know everything,” he replied coolly. “Just do what you’re told.”
Marcus excused himself quickly, sensing the tension.
I followed Damien into his study, the room thick with authority and control. He picked up his phone, scrolling, then tossed it onto the desk.
“The rumors are getting worse,” he said. “People think you’re unstable. Weak.”
I clenched my hands. “Because I don’t appear everywhere you want me to?”
“Because you look like you don’t belong,” he corrected sharply.
The words landed hard.
“This marriage is already under scrutiny,” he continued. “I won’t let it damage my reputation.”
“So this press meeting is about controlling the narrative,” I said quietly.
He looked at me then, eyes cold. “It’s about survival.”
I laughed softly, the sound surprising even me. “You talk like I’m the enemy.”
“You’re a liability,” he said without hesitation.
Silence swallowed the room.
I nodded slowly. “Then why keep me?”
His gaze flickered—just for a second.
“Because getting rid of you would raise more questions than keeping you,” he replied.
Honesty. Brutal and unforgiving.
At noon, we stood side by side before flashing cameras and practiced smiles. Damien spoke smoothly, confidently, dismissing rumors with ease. When it was my turn to speak, microphones were thrust toward me.
“How do you feel about the rumors surrounding your marriage?” a reporter asked.
I looked at Damien.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
I smiled.
“I feel blessed,” I said softly. “Every marriage has challenges. Ours is no different.”
The lie tasted bitter.
Another reporter leaned forward. “Are you intimidated by Vivian Hale’s presence in Mr. Blackwood’s life?”
The room went quiet.
I felt Damien’s hand tighten around mine, a silent warning.
“I’m not intimidated by anyone,” I said evenly. “I trust my husband.”
The words drew murmurs.
Damien smiled for the cameras.
But when we got into the car afterward, the smile vanished.
“You did well,” he said. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
I stared out the window. “You were afraid I’d embarrass you.”
“Yes,” he admitted.
“At least you’re honest.”
Back at the mansion, exhaustion weighed heavily on me. I went straight to my room, shutting the door gently behind me. I leaned against it, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm inside my chest.
A knock sounded.
I froze.
The door opened before I could respond.
Vivian.
She stepped inside as if she owned the place, dressed flawlessly, her smile sharp and knowing.
“I watched the press meeting,” she said. “You were impressive.”
I said nothing.
She walked closer, circling the room slowly. “You know, Damien hates weakness. That’s why he left me once.”
I turned to face her. “Left?”
She smiled. “Temporarily. He always comes back.”
My chest tightened. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I like you,” she said lightly. “And I’d hate for you to misunderstand your position.”
“My position?” I echoed.
“You’re a placeholder,” she said calmly. “A convenient solution. Nothing more.”
Anger surged—but I forced it down.
“If that’s true,” I said quietly, “then why do you feel threatened enough to warn me?”
Her smile faltered—just a fraction.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Because Damien doesn’t look at you the way he should.”
My heart skipped.
“And that,” she whispered, “is dangerous.”
Before I could respond, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Damien’s voice followed. “Vivian?”
She straightened instantly, turning toward him with ease. “I was just leaving.”
He glanced between us, suspicion flashing briefly in his eyes. “Good.”
She passed him, brushing his arm lightly. “Don’t work too hard,” she said softly.
When she was gone, Damien closed the door.
“What did she say to you?” he asked.
“Nothing important,” I replied.
He studied me for a long moment, as if trying to read something beneath the surface.
“Stay away from her,” he said finally. “She complicates things.”
I met his gaze. “So do you.”
His expression darkened. “Don’t push me, Lily.”
“I’m already being crushed,” I said quietly. “How much more can I push?”
For a moment, the mask slipped.
Just a little.
Then it was gone.
“You’ll survive,” he said coldly. “You always do.”
He left the room.
I sank onto the bed, my emotions tangled and raw. Vivian’s words echoed painfully.
A placeholder.
Maybe that was all I was.
But as I stared at my reflection in the mirror, something inside me shifted.
Placeholders could be replaced.
But they could also walk away.
And for the first time, the thought didn’t terrify me.
It felt like hope.
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