Clean Slates & Fresh Scars
401 Words
Chapter 18: Clean Slates & Fresh Scars
The media had a field day.
“Damian Cole’s Fiancée Stuns at Gala — The Kiss Seen Round the World!”
“From Fake to Forever?”
“Leila Hassan: The Woman Who Tamed New York’s Coldest CEO”
But Leila didn’t care about the headlines anymore.
She cared about how Damian looked at her now — like she wasn’t just the girl who saved his reputation, but the woman who saved him.
After the gala, they returned to his estate — now their estate — and for the first time, the silence in the house didn’t feel cold.
It felt like peace.
“You’re really staying?” Damian asked, leaning against the doorway of her new bedroom — one she chose with him.
Leila glanced up from the open suitcase. “I came back, didn’t I?”
He grinned. “You left half of Manhattan breathless.”
“I came for you. Let them breathe.”
He crossed the room, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and kissed her shoulder.
“No more secrets,” she murmured.
He nodded. “No more contracts.”
They stood there in quiet understanding — the past behind them, the future unwritten.
But peace never lasted long in their world.
Three days later, a package arrived.
No return address. No note. Just a slim envelope inside.
Leila opened it while Damian was on a call — and froze.
Inside was a photo.
Old. Blurry. But unmistakable.
It was her.
At seventeen.
Kissing a boy in a hoodie on the hood of a stolen car.
Her breath hitched.
She hadn’t seen that picture in years. Hadn’t thought about him in even longer.
But the damage was done.
She flipped over the photo — and found a single sentence scribbled in thick black marker:
“Tell him who you used to be. Or I will.”
Her hands shook.
That night, she tucked the photo deep in her drawer and didn’t mention it. Not yet.
Because how could she?
Damian had bared so much of himself. Risked everything. Fought for her. And she — well, she still hadn’t told him everything.
Not about her old life.
Not about the boy in the picture.
Not about what they’d done — or how it all ended.
But the past had found her.
And this time, it wasn’t going away quietly.
- Writer
