Chapter 4
1067 Words
Lyra’s POV
If you ever want to know how much power a man has, watch how people act when he walks into a room.
When Damien Virelli walks in, people shut up.
They straighten their suits. They clear their throats. They stand a little taller—like they’re scared he might decide today’s the day he gets bored and destroys them.
And I’m starting to understand why.
Because the longer I stay in this house, the more I realize something terrifying.
He’s not trying to impress anyone.
He already knows he doesn’t have to.
---
It’s my third official day working under Damien, and by “working,” I mean organizing files I can’t open, drafting fake meeting notes, and drinking coffee I didn’t make but somehow always ends up on my desk at exactly 8:45 a.m.
Creepy.
And slightly addicting.
The man runs his empire like a shadow — always present, never fully visible. He gives orders without speaking, makes people move without lifting a finger.
And worst of all, he watches everything.
Which is probably why I shouldn't be doing what I’m doing right now.
I'm not in the office.
I'm not sipping coffee.
I’m in his private study.
And I’m definitely not supposed to be here.
---
I tell myself I’m just looking for paperclips.
But I know that’s a lie.
What I’m really looking for… is her.
My sister.
Jade.
The ghost that brought me to this house. The reason I signed a devil’s contract. The face I still dream about—smiling one minute, vanishing the next.
And just when I’m about to give up and run back to my desk like a good little fake secretary…
I find it.
A thin, flat black envelope with JS-713 written in tiny silver ink on the corner.
Jade Santiaga.
I sit down.
And I open it.
Inside is a photo.
Grainy. Old.
But it’s her.
Standing in front of a black car.
Wearing the same red dress she had on the day she disappeared.
But what makes my stomach drop isn’t just the photo.
It’s what’s written on the back.
> “You don’t know what she did.”
The handwriting is sharp. Male.
And I’ve seen it before.
On Damien’s desk.
On his notes.
On the contract I signed.
---
I don’t hear him walk in.
Of course I don’t.
He’s not the type to knock.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” he says quietly.
I freeze.
Then slowly, I turn in the chair—still holding the photo.
He looks calm. Too calm. Which means he's furious.
“I was just—”
“Looking,” he finishes. “Without permission.”
I stand. “You want me to trust you. But you don’t trust me.”
His jaw flexes.
“That’s not trust,” he says. “That’s recklessness.”
“What is this?” I hold up the photo. “Why do you have it?”
He walks forward—slow and controlled like a predator. Not threatening. Just… heavy.
He stops just close enough that I can feel the tension ripple off his skin.
“You wouldn’t understand,” he says.
“Try me.”
Silence.
Then:
“She made a choice. One she couldn’t take back.”
My voice cracks. “What kind of choice?”
“She chose power. Over everything else. Even you.”
I laugh. Bitter. Broken.
“No. She wouldn’t do that. She loved me.”
His expression flickers. A crack in the armor.
“She did. Once.”
Something dark passes between us. Heavy. Unspeakable.
I should walk away.
But I don’t.
---
He steps closer.
I don’t move.
His eyes drop to my lips for half a second—so quick I almost miss it.
Then he says, voice low:
“You think you’re here for answers. But the truth will destroy you.”
“And you think keeping it from me won’t?”
A breath.
Then, without warning, his hand comes up.
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
Soft. Gentle.
Too intimate for two people standing on opposite sides of a war.
I don't breathe.
Neither does he.
Then his voice, almost a whisper:
“I don't know what you're more afraid of… the truth about your sister, or what you'll become once you know it.”
I swallow hard.
And for the first time since coming here…
I wonder if he's right.
---
Damien’s POV
She was never supposed to find that file.
It was planted. On purpose. A test.
But she wasn’t supposed to open it so soon.
She wasn’t supposed to feel anything.
And yet… she does.
I saw it in her hands—shaking just enough to betray the storm inside her.
She doesn’t want to believe Jade chose this life. That her sister wasn’t taken—but ran.
That she stayed.
Willingly.
And now Lyra’s staring at me like I’m the villain for telling her the truth she begged for.
Typical.
But also…
Predictable.
I didn’t expect the hair thing. That was… unplanned.
She looked so close to shattering, and I—
I wanted to touch something that wasn’t made of lies for once.
Even if it was only her hair.
Even if she’s the biggest threat in the room.
Even if touching her felt like pressing my fingers to a loaded trigger.
---
Later that night, I return to the study.
The photo she found is still on the desk.
I pick it up.
Flip it over.
> “You don’t know what she did.”
I smile grimly.
Neither does Lyra.
Not yet.
But she will.
And when she does… she'll either walk away forever.
Or burn this house down with me in it.
---
Lyra’s POV
I’m pacing in my room when it happens again.
The laptop chimes.
Another message.
Anonymous. Like last time.
But this one’s shorter.
> “Don’t trust the one who offers truth with clean hands.”
I type back.
> Who are you?
No reply.
Again.
This time, I throw the laptop shut.
Hard.
I’m done being fed crumbs.
If Damien won’t tell me what Jade did… I’ll find out myself.
Even if it means going back to the third floor.
Even if it means becoming the kind of woman I swore I’d never be.
Even if it means turning into her.
---
- Writer
