Chapter Six
725 Words
Chapter Six: Behind the Glass Smile
The boutique downtown was quiet except for the soft swish of fabric and the occasional clink of champagne glasses.
Lily stood in front of a floor-length mirror, barely recognizing the woman staring back.
The dress was deep emerald, satin and sculpted, with a slit that ran dangerously high on her leg. The stylist circled her like a hawk, adjusting the neckline and murmuring approval.
“You’ll be the perfect Mrs. Blackwood tonight,” the woman said, almost reverently.
Lily tried to smile. “Great.”
She didn’t feel like anyone’s perfect anything. Least of all Damian’s.
---
By the time the charity auction began, the ballroom buzzed with the city’s elite. All eyes turned when Damian and Lily arrived.
He looked like a man carved from shadow and silk—black suit, crisp white shirt, no tie, collar open just enough to be rebellious. His hand rested on the small of her back like it belonged there.
“Smile,” he whispered again.
She did.
But every flash of a camera, every hush of gossip, chipped away at her nerves.
As they made their rounds, Lily couldn’t help but notice the way people treated Damian—with fear masked as respect. He was cold. Untouchable. Some bowed their heads slightly when he passed.
He rules this world, she thought. And now I’m part of it.
Halfway through the night, they were seated together at the front table as the auction began. Expensive watches, paintings, and vacations flashed across the stage—items worth more than her life savings.
Damian sipped his drink, watching the crowd with bored detachment. Lily, meanwhile, felt like she was trapped in a glass case.
Then the host took the stage.
“And now,” he said, grinning, “the most anticipated auction item of the night—an exclusive dinner with the mysterious Mrs. Blackwood herself!”
Lily froze.
The room burst into applause. Cameras flashed. All eyes turned toward her.
“What the hell is this?” she hissed under her breath.
“Publicity,” Damian replied coolly. “It makes us look real. Valuable. Desired.”
“You volunteered me for this?”
He didn’t flinch. “You wanted to convince them, didn’t you?”
Bidding began.
Twenty thousand.
Thirty-five.
Fifty.
Lily sat stiffly as strangers bid thousands for a night with her—Damian Blackwood’s wife. As if she were a commodity.
The final bid landed at seventy thousand dollars.
Sold to a silver-haired tech mogul who winked at her with too many teeth.
Lily turned to Damian, fury burning in her chest.
“You had no right—”
“Calm down.”
“I’m not your pawn.”
His gaze met hers. “No. You’re my partner. And sometimes partners make sacrifices.”
She stood up. “Then maybe you should try making one for once.”
He looked like he might say something—but didn’t.
---
Later that night, the car ride home was silent. The city lights bled through the windows, but neither of them spoke.
When they stepped into the penthouse, Lily turned to him.
“What’s behind that locked door?”
Damian blinked. “Is this about earlier?”
“No. It’s about everything,” she said. “You want me to play the perfect wife? Then treat me like a human being. Tell me something real.”
He was quiet for a long time.
Then he walked to the liquor cabinet and poured a drink. He didn’t offer her one.
“That room,” he said at last, “belonged to my younger sister.”
Lily’s breath caught.
“She died three years ago.”
She stepped back. “I—I didn’t know.”
“No one does. That’s the point,” he said bitterly. “That’s why the door stays locked.”
Lily watched him. In that moment, the arrogance and control slipped—and she saw him. Not the CEO. Not the puppetmaster.
But a man haunted by something he refused to name.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
He didn’t respond.
He just stared out the window, jaw clenched.
And Lily wondered—for the first time—what kind of grief a man like Damian Blackwood tried so hard to bury behind silk suits and steel walls.
- Writer
