Chapter5
719 Words
After that night, nothing was the same.
The lines blurred.
They no longer pretended at breakfast. Damon started waiting for her to wake up just to share quiet mornings together. She read to him while he worked late in his study. He’d pour her a glass of wine and sit beside her on the couch just to listen to her ramble about art and Paris and her favorite memories with her father.
And then there were the nights.
Long, slow, and tender.
Damon, once untouchable, now kissed her like he’d die without her. He held her like he was afraid she’d vanish. Élodie had never felt so desired—and so safe.
It was no longer a marriage of convenience.
It was becoming something else.
Love.
She could feel it in the way he touched her.
She could hear it in the way he whispered her name when he thought she was asleep.
But love—real love—has a way of being tested.
And it came with a single phone call.
“Élodie,” the doctor said over the line, “I think you should come to Geneva. Your father… he took a turn.”
Her world spun again.
Damon didn’t hesitate. He chartered the jet within the hour, canceled his meetings, and flew with her in silence, holding her hand the entire way.
But when they arrived, it was too late.
Lucien Moreau, the man she had given everything to save, was gone.
The hospital room felt too quiet. Too clean. Damon stood behind her, unsure if he should step in. Élodie didn’t cry at first—she simply stared.
Then she turned and walked past him, out of the room, and into the rain outside. Alone.
The days that followed were quiet.
Élodie was distant.
She didn’t pull away physically, but she spoke less. Smiled less. She stopped reading in the evenings. She left the guest room and returned to her old one. Damon noticed, but he didn’t push.
One night, she said softly, “Now that he’s gone, the contract is over, isn’t it?”
He looked up, startled. “Is that what you want?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
He crossed the room slowly. “I don’t want to let you go.”
Élodie’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to be someone you hold onto out of guilt.”
“Élodie—”
“I need to know if this is real.”
Damon stepped closer, cupped her face gently.
“I was obsessed with revenge for half my life. Then you walked in and reminded me what living feels like. You weren’t part of a plan. You were the thing that broke it.”
She broke into sobs against his chest. “I’m scared.”
“So am I,” he whispered. “But I’m here. If you stay… I’ll never let you wonder again.”
Damon hesitated. “Because for the first time in my life… I want someone to stay. And I want them to stay because they want to.”
She blinked, startled by the vulnerability in his voice.
That night, they didn’t make love—they just lay in bed, face to face, hearts beating quietly in the dark.
It was 2:14 a.m. when the call came from Geneva. Élodie answered with shaking hands, her heart dropping the moment the doctor said her father’s name.
Damon was already awake, watching her from the doorway. She met his eyes as she ended the call.
“I have to go,” she whispered. “He’s not... well.”
Damon was packed within the hour. No discussion.
The Hospital in Geneva
The room was sterile and far too quiet. Machines beeped, too gentle for the panic clawing in Élodie’s chest. Her father looked so small, shrunken by illness, tubes and wires taking over his body.
“Papa,” she whispered, kneeling beside the bed.
Lucien stirred weakly. “You... kept your promise.”
Élodie bit her lip, holding back tears. “You’re going to be fine. Damon brought me. He’s here.”
Lucien’s eyes fluttered open, landing on Damon.
“Protect her,” he croaked.
Damon stepped forward, voice low. “I swear it.”
And then, just like that, Lucien’s breathing slowed... and stopped.
- Writer
