The Billionare's Redemption

CHAPTER FIVE: SMALL BEGINNING

The next morning, I woke up with a decision already set in my mind.

No more sitting quietly. No more letting Selene walk all over me.

If I wanted Damien to notice me—to see that I wasn’t just some burden thrown into his life—I had to try. Not because I loved him already, but because I refused to live as if I didn’t exist.

I finished brushing my hair and tying it into a simple ponytail, I padded down to the kitchen. The house was still quiet, the sun spilling soft golden light through the tall glass windows.

I grabbed my phone, searching for a recipe, and remembered Isabel telling me what Damien’s favorite food was: caldereta. I read the recipe, I couldn’t help but smile faintly. Caldereta was one of my own favorites too. Maybe… just maybe, this was a good start.

I tied an apron around my waist, placed my phone on the counter to play soft music, and started chopping vegetables. The rhythm of the knife against the cutting board calmed me. For the first time since I moved into this house, I didn’t feel like a stranger.

The scent of garlic sizzling in oil soon filled the air, mixing with the rich smell of beef simmering in tomato sauce. I hummed along with the music, letting myself imagine—just for a moment—that this was a normal marriage. That Damien would come down the stairs, smile at me, and sit for breakfast like any other husband would.

I set the table carefully, placing the caldereta in a serving dish, and arranged the plates. My heart gave a nervous flutter when I heard footsteps from upstairs.

I smoothed down my apron quickly and forced myself to stay calm.

But when I looked up, my smile faltered.

It wasn’t just Damien.

Selene was right beside him, her arm brushing against his as they walked down the stairs together.

Her eyes darted to the table, then to me, her lips curling into a knowing smirk.

“Well,” she said sweetly, “someone looks… busy.”

Damien glanced at the spread. “What’s all this?”

I swallowed, forcing myself to stay calm. “I thought I’d make you breakfast. Caldereta. I heard it’s your favorite.”

Selene let out a soft, sarcastic laugh. “How adorable. Playing house, are we?”

My cheeks heated, but I straightened my shoulders. “I’m just doing my job as his wife.”

Damien looked at me, his expression unreadable. He said nothing, only pulled out a chair and sat down. Selene, of course, sat right beside him as though she owned the spot.

As I served Damien his plate, Selene leaned closer to him, her voice just loud enough for me to hear. “You’ve never needed anyone to take care of you. Especially not like this.”

I forced a smile and replied softly, “Maybe not. But it doesn’t change the fact that he has a wife now.”

Her smirk faltered for a second before she quickly masked it.

Damien tasted the food silently. For a moment, his jaw tightened like he wanted to say something—but he didn’t. He simply continued eating, while Selene picked at her plate and rolled her eyes.

The music continued to play in the background, but the air around the table felt tense, every second dragging like an hour.

And as I sat there, pretending to focus on my own meal, I realized something.

If Isabel was right… this was only the beginning of the battle.

Damien finished his plate in silence, then stood. He grabbed his suit jacket and stood, glancing briefly at Selene.

“I’ll just get something from upstairs before we leave.”

Selene’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “I’ll wait here, darling.”

I froze at the word darling. My chest ached, but I forced myself to keep my expression calm.

Without another glance at either of us, he walked away, his footsteps fading up the stairs.

The moment he was gone, the tension in the kitchen sharpened. Selene leaned back in her chair, swirling the juice in her glass like she owned the room. Her eyes swept over me, cold and calculating.

“You really went all out today,” she said, gesturing toward the table. “Music, food… almost like you’re trying to play house.”

I placed my fork down gently, refusing to let her see me shaken. “I wasn’t playing. I’m his wife. Taking care of him is my responsibility.”

Selene chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Wife in name only, sweetheart. You really think cooking one little meal is going to change anything? You’re only here because of that little debt your family couldn’t pay.”

I set down my fork carefully, keeping my voice steady. “It wasn’t just one meal. It was for my husband. That’s what wives do.”

Her lips curved into a mocking smile. “Husband? Oh, sweetheart. Damien married you because he had no choice. Don’t fool yourself into thinking he’ll ever see you the way he sees me.”

My chest tightened, but I met her gaze firmly. “Then maybe you should ask yourself why you’re so threatened by me. If you’re so sure of his love, you wouldn’t need to be here, reminding me of it. If Damien really wanted you, why does he come home to me every night?”

Her smirk faltered, just for a second, before she leaned closer, her voice sharp. “Because you’re the cage he can’t escape. And I’m the freedom he craves.”

I met her gaze steadily, my voice firm. “Funny. For someone who claims to be his freedom, you sure spend a lot of time competing with me.”

The smile on her face slipped, just a little, before she quickly replaced it with a smirk. “You’re bolder than I thought.”

I leaned forward slightly. “And stronger than you give me credit for. You might want to remember that.”

Her eyes narrowed, irritation flickering across her face. She pushed her chair back and stood, heels clicking against the marble floor.

“This isn’t over,” she whispered sharply before tossing her hair and heading for the door.

I stayed seated, my pulse racing, but a small spark of pride lit inside me.

For once, I hadn’t just sat there and taken it.

And as Selene’s perfume lingered in the air, I whispered to myself,

This is my marriage. My fight. I won’t back down.

Damien came back downstairs, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. Before he could reach for his coat, I stepped forward, gently taking it from him.

“Here,” I said softly, slipping it over his shoulders. He looked surprised but didn’t move away.

I reached up to fix his tie, my fingers brushing lightly against the fabric. “There,” I murmured with a faint smile. “Now you’re ready. Take care at work, Damien.”

For a moment, his eyes flickered to mine, unreadable. Then he gave a short nod.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Selene’s stiff smile faltering.

Turning slightly, I flashed her a small, sweet smile. “Starting today,” I said firmly, though my tone was gentle, “I’ll be the one taking care of my husband.”

Her lips tightened, though she quickly masked it with a smirk.

Damien glanced between us but said nothing, walking toward the door. Selene followed, though the click of her heels was sharper this time—like every step was a reminder of her frustration.

After the door closed behind Damien and Selene, I finally let myself breathe.

The silence wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, and I went back to the table, stacking the plates with slow, careful movements.

The sudden sound of the doorbell made me flinch. My brows furrowed. It couldn’t be Isabel this early.

I wiped my hands and opened the door.

“Mom?” My voice cracked in surprise.

She smiled softly. “Elena.”

I quickly stepped aside. “Come in.”

She walked in, her eyes sweeping over the house. “It’s so big… and so quiet.”

I managed a faint smile. “That’s one way to put it.”

We sat in the living room. I poured her a glass of water, the silence between us heavier than I expected.

She studied me closely, her eyes full of both worry and love.

“So,” she began softly, “how’s life as a married woman?”

I hesitated, pressing my lips together before answering. “As expected, I guess. We both know I only married him because of the debt. So… it’s not like I expected love to come with it.”

Her expression tightened, but she reached over and gently squeezed my hand. “Sweet heart … don’t say that. Don’t let yourself believe this marriage is nothing.”

I looked at her, confused. “But isn’t that the truth?”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, it looked like she wanted to say more. But instead, she gave me a small smile. “Sometimes, Elena… things aren’t always what they seem. This marriage—” She paused, her voice lowering. “It’s not just about the debt.”

My heart skipped, her words leaving a thousand questions in my chest.

“What do you mean?” I whispered.

She only gave me a knowing look and said softly, “Just remember… you’re here for more reasons than you realize. So don’t give up. Fight.”

Her words echoed in my mind, heavy and unsettling, leaving me staring at her in silence as the weight of her meaning sank deeper.

Not just about the debt…