MARRIED TO THE DEVIL CEO

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Richard shows up for breakfast three days later like nothing happened at all.

I hear him before I see him, that same warm laugh drifting from the kitchen, easy and unbothered, the exact sound that used to loosen something in my chest the first morning I met him. It doesn’t loosen anything now. It sends a cold, crawling feeling up my spine instead, the kind you get when you realize a room you thought was safe never actually was.

“There she is.” He smiles when I walk in, the same wide, practiced warmth from that very first morning. “You look tired, Ava. Everything alright?”

He says my real name so easily, so casually, like it costs him nothing at all, and I understand in that single moment exactly how long he’s known the truth. Not guessed. Known. He’s probably known since the wedding.

“I’m fine,” I say carefully, taking the seat across from him instead of beside him, needing the distance of a table between us even though every instinct in me wants to leave the room entirely.

Damien comes in a moment later, and I watch him do something I’ve never seen him do before. He performs. His whole posture shifts, easy and relaxed, the coldness I’ve grown used to replaced by something warmer, more familiar, exactly the nephew Richard has always known.

“Uncle Richard,” Damien says, dropping into his usual seat like this is any other Tuesday. “Didn’t expect you this early.”

“I was in the area.” Richard pours himself coffee from the pot on the table, unbothered, at home in a house that isn’t his. “Wanted to check in. Things have felt tense around here lately. The breach the other night. Security’s been jumpy ever since.”

“Just a precaution,” Damien says smoothly. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Of course.” Richard’s eyes flick briefly toward me, something assessing behind the warmth. “And you, Ava? How are you settling in? It’s been, what, five months now?”

“Five months,” I confirm, keeping my voice as level as I can manage.

“Time flies.” He smiles again, and this time I catch it, really catch it, the way the warmth doesn’t quite reach his eyes the way it used to seem to. “You’ve done wonderfully, by the way. Playing the part. Most people wouldn’t have managed it half as convincingly.”

The table goes very still.

Damien’s jaw tightens, barely perceptible, but I catch it. “What did you say.”

“I said she’s done wonderfully,” Richard repeats, entirely unbothered, sipping his coffee like he hasn’t just said the quiet part out loud in the middle of breakfast. “Settling into Amelia’s life. It can’t be easy, being someone else’s understudy for this long.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Damien says, too fast, too careful.

“Don’t you.” Richard sets his cup down slowly, and for the first time since I’ve known him, the warmth drops away completely, leaving something colder and far more calculating underneath. “Damien. I’ve known since the wedding. I’ve known longer than that, actually. I make it my business to know everything that happens in this family. It’s rather the whole point of me.”

Nobody says anything. The silence stretches long enough that I can hear my own heartbeat.

“I’m not here to expose anything,” Richard continues, calm and measured, like he’s discussing quarterly earnings rather than blowing apart a secret we’ve spent five months protecting. “I’ve kept your little arrangement quiet this whole time, haven’t I? I could have said something the very first week. I didn’t.”

“Why not,” Damien asks, voice tight.

“Because it wasn’t useful to me then.” Richard’s smile returns, thin now, sharper. “Things change.”

“What do you want, Richard.”

“I want you to stop listening to Thomas Reyes.” The name lands in the room like a dropped glass, sharp and shattering. Damien goes rigid beside me. “Yes, I know about that too. I make it my business to know things, Damien, I told you that already. Whatever he’s told you, whatever documents he claims to have, I’d think very carefully before you decide to trust a man who disappeared for twenty five years and resurfaced the exact week your marriage started looking shaky.”

“He has proof,” Damien says quietly.

“He has a story.” Richard’s voice hardens. “I raised you. I sat with you the week your parents died, when you couldn’t get out of bed, when you were eleven years old and had nobody else in this world who cared whether you ate breakfast. I built half of what you now call your empire while you were still in school. And you’re telling me you’d take the word of a stranger over mine.”

“I’m telling you,” Damien says, and his voice has gone very quiet, very careful, “that I’d like to hear both sides before I decide anything at all.”

Something shifts across Richard’s face, quick and cold, gone as fast as it appeared.

“Careful, Damien.” His voice stays pleasant, but there’s a warning underneath it now, unmistakable. “This family has already lost enough people to secrets nobody wanted to look at directly. I’d hate to see history repeat itself.”

The threat sits in the air, plain and undisguised, and I feel Damien’s hand find mine under the table, gripping tight.

“Is that a threat,” I say before I can stop myself.

Richard turns his attention to me fully for the first time, and his smile returns, warm and terrible all at once.

“It’s a warning, sweetheart,” he says. “From someone who actually cares whether this family survives what’s coming.” He rises from the table, smoothing his jacket, calm as ever. “Think about what you’re risking. Both of you. The company. Each other.” His eyes linger on our joined hands beneath the table, and something in his expression tells me he’s known about that too, has probably known for longer than either of us has admitted it to ourselves.

He walks toward the door, then pauses, glancing back one last time.

“Give my love to Amelia,” he says, “wherever she’s hiding these days. I do hope she’s being careful.”

He leaves without another word, whistling the same tune he always whistles, easy and unbothered, like he hasn’t just confirmed every fear either of us has had since that night in the study.

Damien doesn’t let go of my hand.

“He knows where she is,” I whisper. “He just told us he knows where Amelia is.”

“Yes,” Damien says, his voice grim. “I think he’s known the whole time.“​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​