Chapter Seven: Signed In Deception
1856 Words
Damon’s POV
It seems sleep's been avoiding me. Not a damn wink since last night.
I stared at the ceiling, the soft hum of the AC was the only sound in the room. My mind churning with thoughts I couldn’t ignore.
Jace hadn’t called. Which meant nothing had gone wrong—yet. The guards were in place. She was in her room. And still… something felt off.
There was something about her. About the way she moved through this house like she belonged here—like she was meant to find the hidden places others missed. That panel she discovered yesterday… no one had touched it in years. And yet, she found it asif the walls whispered to her.
That wasn’t a coincidence. I didn’t believe in coincidences.
I sat up slowly, raking my hand through my hair.
The memory returned again sharper than I expected.
He’d leaned closer, breath thick with herbs and something darker.
"She is tied to your fate. But what blesses you may also break you."
I’d laughed at the time. Thought I, Damon Vale, gets whoever I want under control.
But now...
I stood and crossed the room, pulling open a drawer. Inside was a file; our marriage certificate.
I couldn’t afford for her to slip through my fingers.
Not now.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make her bend.”
I picked up my phone. Hovered over Jace’s name.
Then stopped. No. Not yet.
I threw on a shirt and walked out—my steps quiet against the polished floors. The guards stationed outside her room straightened at my approach.
“Is she awake?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
One of them nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Of course, she is.
I opened the door without knocking and stepped inside.
She was standing by the window, bathed in soft morning light. Hair loose, back straight. She looked almost... peaceful. Almost.
But I didn’t believe in appearances.
She turned slowly, arms folded, the sunlight warming the side of her face. She didn’t flinch.
She didn’t even act surprised seeing me in her room.
“Privacy doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?” she said coolly.
“No,” I replied, shutting the door behind me. “Not when it’s my house.”
“Right. And I’m just the girl locked in one of the rooms in your house.” She replied, her voice smooth.
I didn’t answer that.
“Did you come to check if your prisoner slept well?” Her voice held a calm defiance.
I studied her. She looked calm and composed, but her eyes were sharp and alert.
A muscle ticked in my jaw. “You’re not a prisoner.”
“Then why lock me in?” she asked with a tilt of her head, tone cool, eyes sharp. “Afraid I’ll run away?”
I studied her in silence. No trace of fear in her eyes — only a spark I couldn’t name. She was pushing on purpose. Testing limits.
Then, I took a few steps forward, letting the silence taut between us.
“You’re becoming too curious for your own good,” I said.
That made her smile — soft, almost mocking. “Is this about the room?”
My fingers curled slightly at my side.
Her eyes narrowed a fraction. “You seemed... disturbed. Is it because I wasn’t supposed to find it? Or are you scared I did?”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “Scared?” I stepped closer. “You’re just a little fox sniffing around holes too deep for her to understand.”
My eyes raked over her calmly. “But little foxes should know better, not to sniff around dens they don’t belong in.”
She lowered her gaze then, just briefly. “I’m sorry. For wandering. I guess curiosity is a flaw I haven’t grown out of.”
And just like that, in a matter of seconds, her expression shifted. The fire in her eyes dimmed to something softer, more unreadable. Moments ago, she looked bold—fearless.
This girl is enigmatic. She wore her false emotions like a second skin. But I’d seen better.
She wasn’t sorry. And she was certainly up to something.
But two could play that game.
I let out a chuckle, more breath than humor, and crossed my arms.
“What exactly were you looking for, Celina?” I asked.
She met my gaze again, unflinching. “Answers. Maybe freedom. Or maybe just a way out of a deal I never signed.”
“Why are you keeping me here?” She added, her arms crossed.
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I stepped forward and dropped the folded paper on the table, beside the untouched breakfast tray. The sound of it landing echoed louder than my footsteps.
“You want the truth?” I asked, “Here it is.”
She looked at it, then back at me.
“What’s that?” she asked warily.
“Proof,” I said simply.
She reached for it, unfolded the paper with slow fingers—eyes scanning the page.
Her expression didn’t change at first.
But then—
Her fingers trembled.
Her eyes moved over the words again and again, searching for a mistake that wasn’t there.
“This is—” she started, shaking her head. “No. I didn’t sign this.”
“You did.”
Her head jerked up. “I would remember signing something like this.”
“Clearly, you don’t.”
Her hands tightened around the page. “You forged this.”
Her lips parted—whether in disbelief or fury, I couldn’t tell.
Then she clenched her jaw. “This… this can’t be real.”
“It’s real enough in the eyes of the law,” I said. “You signed it. Whether you remember or not.”
She shook her head, almost laughing—but there was no humor in it.
“You expect me to believe this?” she asked, her voice low. “That I signed away my life without knowing it?”
“You don’t have to believe it,” I said, calm. “You’re living it.”
Silence. Her eyes burned with fury.
Good. Now, she knew not to mess with me.
I turned and walked to the door, pausing just before I left.
“Keep it,” I said without looking back. “Frame it, burn it, whatever you want.”
And I left.
------------------------------------------
Celina’s POV
I stood there, the paper trembling in my hands, heart hammering in my chest.
I stared at it. My name. His name. A date. Signatures.
But I hadn’t signed this.
Had I?
No. I would’ve remembered.
I—I wouldn’t—
And then… the memory came.
~FLASHBACK~
It was just another morning.
I was already halfway down the stairs, keys in hand, hair still a bit damp from the shower, when Dad called out.
“Celi—wait, hold on a second.”
I turned. “Dad, I’m going to be late—”
“Just one minute, Celi.” He looked… tense, papers in hand. “I need you to sign something before you go.”
I frowned and walked back up a step. “What is it?”
“Medical stuff,” he said, a little too quickly. “Hospital forms. You know how they are.”
My heart stuttered. “Are you sick?”
“No,” he said with a small chuckle. “Nothing serious. Just tests.”
“Dad…”
“Celina.” He cut in gently. “It’s fine. Just routine things. I’ll explain everything when you get back. Promise.”
I sighed, glanced at the clock.
He smiled faintly, nudging the papers at me and handed me a pen.
Without thinking, I signed. Scribbled my signature where he pointed.
“I’m coming back early today,” I said, squeezing his shoulder. “We’ll talk properly, okay?”
“Don’t be late,” he said, patting my head. “And don't worry, I'm fine.”
I smiled and hugged him quickly before dashing out.
~BACK TO PRESENT~
I stared at the paper in my hands, the edges crumpled from where my fingers gripped it too tightly. My vision blurred—just slightly—but it wasn’t the ink on the page that was hard to see.
It was everything behind it.
No… no. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.
I kept reading it like the words would change, like the signature would shift into someone else’s. But it stayed the same.
Mine.
I sank onto the edge of the bed, the paper fluttering onto my lap like a verdict.
This wasn’t just some twisted game anymore.
It was real.
I let out a slow, shaky breath and felt the sting rise behind my eyes. I blinked fast, trying to will it away, but my throat was already tightening. My chest burned with something I didn’t want to name.
He lied to me. My father.
The first tear slipped down without warning. Then another. The tears kept coming before I could stop them—hot and sharp, they slipped down my cheeks like betrayal itself. Not because of Damon. I never trusted him to begin with.
But him…
I saw my father's face—gentle eyes, that weary smile the day he stopped me before work.
I had signed the papers, I didn't even read it.
I trusted him. Even hugged him and promised we’d talk when I got back.
He lied to me. He used me.
The tears came harder. I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth, trying to swallow the sob that threatened to escape. The taste of salt and something bitter flooded my tongue.
How could he?
My whole life… I thought I mattered to him. But I was just a pawn.
And now?
This—this marriage—was the result of that signature. A document he gave me under false pretenses. A paper that had shackled me to Damon Vale.
I stared down at it again. The black ink mocked me. My name beside his. A union sealed without truth.
I let the tears fall freely now—just for a moment. Let them burn. Let them sting.
Then I wiped my face with the edge of my sleeve.
Enough.
I folded the paper back with slow, steady hands and placed it neatly on the bed.
If this was the game they wanted to play—fine. But I would learn the rules. And I’d beat them at it.
“I won’t let anyone control my life,” I whispered to the room, to the walls, to whatever unseen eyes might be watching.
My voice steadied as I rose from the bed.
“He thinks marrying me gave him power,” I said. “He’s wrong.”
I might carry his name on paper. But I wasn’t his. Not now. Not ever.
This marriage isn't going to be a trap but my weapon.
And Damon Vale?
I’d make sure he regrets ever putting his signature beside mine.
- Writer
