The billionaire’s secret heir

WALLS ARE THIN

*LILA POV*

I decided to start In the guest room

The guest room was too big.

And too quiet.

I lay on top of the duvet in the clothes I’d worn all day, staring at a ceiling I didn’t know. The penthouse hummed. The city outside didn’t sleep, but in here it felt like the world had stopped.

_Come home._

Damian’s voice was still in my head from yesterday. Two words. And now I was here. In his house. In his space.

I rolled onto my side. The sheets smelled like him. Clean. Expensive. Like cedar and something I couldn’t name.

Stupid.

A floorboard creaked down the hall.

I held my breath.

Nothing.

Then another sound. Water running. A cabinet closing.

He was awake too.

Of course he was. Men like Damian don’t sleep when their territory is invaded.

I hated that I was listening for him. Hated that my chest tightened every time the hallway went silent again.

3:17am. My phone glowed in the dark.

Sleep wasn’t coming.

So I got up. Bare feet on cold marble. I told myself I was just getting water.

That was a lie.

*DAMIAN POV*

I don’t do insomnia.

I do control. Schedules. 5am workouts.

But tonight my bed felt like a board and my thoughts felt like knives.

Guest room light was still on at midnight. Off at 1. On again at 2.

She wasn’t sleeping.

I told myself I didn’t care.

That was a lie.

I got up. Poured water I wouldn’t drink. Stood at the kitchen island in sweats and nothing else, listening to the house.

And then I heard it.

Soft footsteps. Bare feet.

She appeared in the doorway like a ghost. Hair messy. One of my company t-shirts that was definitely not hers. Eyes puffy but alert.

We both froze.

Caught.

"Water," she said quietly. Like she needed to explain.

"Same," I said. Also a lie.

The silence between us was loud. Thick.

Lila wrapped her arms around herself. "Didn’t mean to wake you."

"You didn’t."

Another lie.

She moved to the fridge. I moved to the counter. Our arms almost brushed reaching for the same glass.

We both pulled back.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"Don’t be," I said, too fast.

The clock ticked. 3:24am.

She looked exhausted. And beautiful in that wrecked, real way people never let anyone see.

I should’ve told her to go to bed. I should’ve gone to mine.

Instead I said, "You cold?"

She nodded once.

Before I could think, I was grabbing the throw from the couch and handing it to her. Our fingers touched.

Neither of us moved for a second.

Then she took it. "Thanks."

"Yeah."

She walked back to her room. I walked back to mine.

Doors closed.

But the walls were thin.

And we both knew the other was still awake.

*