CHAPTER THREE
1265 Words
The night did not end gently.
Kira lay awake long after Damien left. The sheets were cold. Her body ached. Her throat was raw from sounds she hadn't meant to make — not all of them pain, and that was the worst part.
That some small, broken piece of her had wanted him to touch her, even like this, even angry, even cruel.
She stared at the ceiling and hated herself.
He thinks you betrayed him.
He thinks Sofia is proof of your affair.
And you let him touch you anyway.
A soft knock. Not Damien. He never knocked.
Kira wrapped herself in a robe and opened the door.
The female guard stood there. "The girl is asking for you. Nightmares."
Kira's heart cracked. "Can I see her?"
"Five minutes."
The guard led her to Sofia's room. The lock clicked open.
Sofia was curled on the narrow bed, tears streaming down her face. She wasn't crying aloud. She had learned not to make noise.
Four years old and she already knows how to survive.
Kira gathered her daughter in her arms. Sofia felt too light, the heart condition stealing weight she couldn't afford to lose.
"Mama," Sofia whimpered. "I dreamed the scary man took you away."
"I'm here, baby."
"He hates me."
"He doesn't hate you."
"Yes, he does. He looks at me like I'm a bug."
Kira rocked her. Back and forth. The same motion that had soothed Sofia through fevers and hospital stays.
"His heart is broken," Kira whispered. "That's all. Broken hearts make people act cruel."
"Is his heart sick like mine?"
Kira closed her eyes. "No, baby. His heart is sick in a different way."
"Who broke it?"
Kira didn't answer.
The door opened. "Time's up."
Kira kissed Sofia's forehead. "I'll come back tomorrow."
The door locked behind her.
Morning came too fast.
Kira slept in fragments. Every sound made her jolt awake.
A tray of food appeared outside her door. Cold eggs. Stale bread. Water.
She ate standing up. Sitting felt too vulnerable.
A knock. Two sharp raps, then a pause, then two more.
Damien stood in the hallway. Fresh suit. Clean shaven. His hair was still damp from a shower. He looked like a man who had slept well.
She hated him for that.
"You look terrible," he said.
"You look like a monster wearing a human suit."
Something flickered across his face. Almost amusement.
"Get dressed. Breakfast. Five minutes."
"I'm not hungry."
"It wasn't a question."
He stepped closer. His hand caught her chin. "You are my prisoner. Prisoners do what they're told."
He turned and walked away.
She wore the only clean dress the guard had left — simple gray cotton, no belt, nothing she could use as a weapon. Her eyes were hollow. She didn't bother to hide it.
Damien was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He looked her up and down, slow and deliberate. His face gave nothing.
"This way."
He led her through the mansion. Past the grand foyer. Past the kitchen, where servants looked away. Past a door she didn't recognize — reinforced steel with a keypad lock.
"What's in there?" she asked.
"Nothing you need to see."
They stopped in the dining room. Double doors. Dark wood. She remembered this room from before, from the brief, bright time when she had been part of this family.
Now she was a prisoner.
Damien opened the doors.
The dining room was enormous. A table that seated twenty. Crystal chandeliers. Damien sat at the head — a king on his throne.
Kira was placed at the opposite end. Far from him.
Sofia sat between them.
Kira's blood ran cold. She had begged the guard to let Sofia eat in her room. The guard had failed.
Sofia sat in a chair too big for her, dark curls falling around her face. She wasn't crying. She was watching Damien the way he watched her.
Four years old and already as stubborn as her father.
"Sit," Damien said.
Kira sat.
Servants appeared. Eggs. Bacon. Fresh bread. More food than Kira had seen in weeks.
Sofia stared at her plate. She hadn't touched anything.
"Eat," Damien said.
Sofia didn't move.
"She needs her medicine first," Kira said.
Damien's eyes flicked to her. Impatient. "Then give it to her."
Kira pulled the pink bottle from her pocket — she never went anywhere without it. Two spoonfuls. Sofia swallowed without complaint.
"Now eat," Kira said softly.
Sofia took a small bite. Chewed. Swallowed.
Damien watched her. "She's too thin."
"She's sick."
"How sick?"
Kira hesitated.
"Answer me."
"She has a heart condition."
The words fell into the silence like stones into deep water.
Damien didn't blink. "Since birth?"
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me."
"Would you have cared?"
Damien set down his fork. The clink was loud.
"I don't care about her. She's not mine. She's proof of your betrayal. But I won't have a child die in my house. It's bad for business."
"She needs surgery."
"Then schedule it."
"I can't afford it."
Damien leaned back. Studied her like an enemy.
"You want my money."
"I want my daughter to live."
"The same daughter you made with another man."
Kira's throat closed. Tell him. Marco will kill her. Tell him anyway.
"Please," she whispered. "She's done nothing wrong."
Damien was quiet for a long moment.
"I'll pay for the surgery. But not because I believe you. Not because I forgive you."
He stood. Walked around the table. Stopped inches from her.
"I'm paying because I want you to watch her grow up in my house. I want you to see, every day, what you threw away."
"That's not fair."
"Fair?" He laughed. Hollow. Ugly. "You slept with my best friend. You destroyed my marriage. You disappeared with his child. And you want fair?"
"I didn't —"
"And when she's old enough, I'll tell her the truth. Who her mother is. What her mother did. Who her father is. What he took from me."
Kira shot to her feet. "If you hurt her...."
"I won't hurt her." He grabbed her chin. Iron fingers. "I'll give her the truth. That's worse. She'll grow up knowing her mother is a liar and a cheat. She'll know her father is a traitor. And she'll know that I — the man who raised her — am the only one who ever told her the truth."
"You're a monster."
"No." His thumb brushed her lower lip. Gentle. Cruel. "I'm what you made me. You and Marco. You broke me. Now I'm returning the favor."
He released her.
"Finish your breakfast. I won't have her fainting in my house and causing a scene."
He walked out. The doors slammed behind him.
Kira stood frozen. Her whole body was shaking.
Sofia tugged her sleeve.
"Mama. Why does he hate you?"
Kira sat down slowly. She looked at her daughter — Damien's eyes, Damien's chin, Damien's stubbornness.
Because he doesn't know you're his. Because he thinks you belong to another man. Because if I tell him the truth, Marco will kill you.
"Sometimes," Kira said carefully, "people hate because it's easier than understanding."
Sofia tilted her head. "That doesn't make sense."
"No," Kira agreed. "It doesn't."
She picked up her fork. Pushed food around her plate. She wasn't hungry.
But she ate. For Sofia. For the strength to survive whatever comes next.
And she waited.
For Damien's next cruelty.
For Marco's next move.
For the surgery that might save her daughter's life.
Please, she prayed to no one. Please let her live.
No one answered.
- Writer
