Chapter Thirteen

Present

B linking against the soft light, my surroundings slowly come into focus. I find myself cocooned in the familiarity of my bedroom, a hint of confusion clouding my thoughts.

A foreign sensation tugs at my arm, and my gaze settles on the IV drip attached to it.

Question arises through the fog of my grogginess. My movements are slow as I shift on the bed and freeze when I find Damian standing in the corner of the room. Hands shoved in the pockets, his expression tight.

A raspy almost fragile whisper escapes my parched throat as I ask, “What happened?”

I’m not sure he heard me until I see him move. He pulls his hands out and starts uncuffing his sleeves, folding them one by one to his elbows. With the way he is clenching his jaw, it looks like he is distracting himself with the task so he wouldn’t lose his temper. “You don’t remember, angel?”

Bits and pieces of the day’s events begin to emerge from the fog—the skipped breakfast, the reckless decision to argue with Hal to get my phone back. That led Damian to cut his meeting short and then… graphic images of what we did in the formal dining room this afternoon rush into my thoughts, making my cheeks heat.

I swallow in embarrassment and grimace at the dryness. I move to sit up and Damian is there in an instant, his hands steadying me as helps me sit.

Arranging the pillows behind my back, he gently pushes my upper body so I’m leaning against them. As if he knew exactly what I needed, he grabs the glass of water from the nightstand and hands it to me, his jaw still clenched tight.

When I reach for the glass, he pulls his hand back. I sigh, giving in, and let him guide it to my lips. “Thank you,” I mumble.

He says nothing and makes me lie back down. He fusses over the quilt around me.

“I’m okay.”

His fingers still and then his gaze lifts to meet mine, silencing me instantly with nothing but a look.

I avert my gaze. “M-my phone—”

“You need to rest.” His fingers stroke my hair back. His actions confuse me. He never cared about me. Yes, he was always particular about me being physically healthy and fit but this is different. He is acting like my fainting has concerned him. It looks like he’s deep in thoughts so I cover his hand with mine, stopping him.

“You promised you’ll give me my phone back if I joined you for lunch and I did.”

He removes his hand from my clutch and it stings.

“But you didn’t eat.”

I sit up at that. “That’s because you kissed me!”

“I recall you kissing me back.” He leans closer. “Quite passionately, might I add.”

“T-that’s b-beside the point!” I take a deep breath to calm myself, remembering that arguing with him would only complicate things for me. “I won’t skip my meals again.”

“Rest. We’ll talk about your phone situation later.”

“But why?”

“Because you’re weak.”

I frown. “I can surely manage to talk to my friend for a minute or two.”

“No.”

“I’m not a child to be grounded. This is ridiculous. You’re not my dad to deny me access to my phone.”

“I’m your husband.”

“And that gives you the right to control me and my life?”

“You put your health on the line—first by drinking too much with that friend, then by skipping breakfast. You were dehydrated. Seems like you do need me to control you.”

“We both know why I fainted. So why should I bear the consequences of your actions?”

“Nobody faints because of multiple orgasms.” He cuts me off when I try to speak, “I discussed it with the doctor. It can cause dehydration but the main reason behind your syncope was alcohol consumption the night before and empty stomach.”

“Fine. But now I am feeling better. I need to talk to my friend.”

He stands then. But doesn’t leave. “You seem awfully attached with this friend of yours.”

I tense. “What are you getting at?”

“You were out for over an hour. So I used the time to think.”

A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. I don’t like where this is going. “Think about what?”

“I was wondering if she’s worth rebelling for.”

She is. But I don’t say it. “The only reason I’m “rebelling” is you, Damian.”

His eyes narrow. “Because you saw something in my office you weren’t supposed to.”

I stare back at him with a mixture of anger and hurt. “Did you think you could keep this hidden forever?”

“You don’t even know the whole truth,” he says dismissively without an ounce of guilt.

“I know enough.”

“We’ll talk about this later. You should get some sleep.”

“I have been sleeping all this time.” I refer to the entirety of our relationship. How foolish I was. So eager to be his. That’s why this is happening to me. Believing his every word, thinking he could do no wrong. The real blame falls on me. I chose this. I went after him willingly. And now I’m paying the price.

“If you don’t want to sleep, I’ll have Edith bring you something to eat upstairs.”

“Enough is enough!” I cry out. “You’ve evaded this conversation for far too long.”

Annoyance shadows his face. “Don’t act like a spoiled—”

“Don’t!” I shout. “Don’t you dare call me a spoiled princess again. Don’t you dare.” My eyes glisten as I try and fail to gather myself. “I am more than that, so much more. I am a human being with feelings you hurt over and over without an ounce of remorse.” My lower lip quivers. “Tell me, Damian. Remind me one instance where I demanded something from you.”

When I’m met with silence, I give him a sad smile, sniffling. “Can’t remember, can you? It’s because I’ve never demanded anything from you, never asked for more than your love, your time. My heart aches that you see me through such a distorted lens. I’m not a spoiled princess and you know it.”

“Control yourself,” he says with disgust and my face crumples. I draw my knees toward my chest. Burrowing my face on my folded forearms, I cry over my helplessness. I’m a pitiful wreck. A broken woman who couldn’t even carry a conversation without having a meltdown. I hate it. And I hate him.

Warm hands grip my bare upper arms, startling me. I jerk away, shoving him. “No!”

I shake my head. “No. You don’t get to break my heart and then try to fix it afterward.”

“I just wanted you to calm down. You’re already weak,” he sighs.

“And whose fault is this?”

His eyes search mine warily, and I hate it. I hate the way he looks at me like I’m some unstable woman on the verge of losing it.

“I don’t want to wait any longer. I’m ready to talk right now.”

“Very well.” He walks over to the chair opposite the bed. “Let’s start from the beginning. The day you went snooping in my office.”

“On our wedding anniversary, you mean.” I correct him.

“Semantics.”

I take a deep breath. “You need to understand something,” I begin, my voice steady but charged. “I’ve never gone through your things. Not once. That day, I went into your home office for a reason.”

“A reason?” He asks, folding his arms over his chest.

“Yes,” I grit my teeth. “I was there to hide your anniversary gift. I wanted it to be a surprise for you, something special.”

Damian merely narrows his eyes as I continue, “The door was unlocked, and I thought it would be the perfect place.” I pause, my voice tinged with bitterness. “But while I was looking for a spot to hide the gift, I found something I never expected.”

He sits stiffly, his face impassive.

“So you see, the problem here isn’t about me ‘snooping.’ It’s about the fact that I discovered you were hiding something crucial, something that shattered the foundation of our relationship.”

“And what exactly did you find?” he asks, his focus entirely on me. He wants me to say it.

“Your meticulous research—about me, my family history, my dad’s business empire. You even had our schedules, our list of connections.”

“So you’re telling me you left me and ran away all because of a few files you stumbled across?”

“I knew you’d try to manipulate me. But I’m no fool, Damian. Remember when we met at that café after my summer break?” I don’t wait for his reply. “I was stunned when Hal brought me my favorite coffee and muffin—without me ever saying a word. But I was so caught up in you, I couldn’t realize how alarming that was until now. Only two people could know exactly what I order and how I take my coffee—the barista, or someone who’s been watching me.

“It didn’t take long to connect the dots after I saw those files. I didn’t pursue you, did I? You let me believe I did. So tell me, Damian... Am I right? All those ‘chance’ meetings, the moments I thought were fate... they were nothing but your calculated moves, weren’t they?”

Damian lets out a sigh. “What’s the point in answering that? You’ve already made up your mind that I’m at fault.”

I freeze. A delicate seed of hope begins to take root within me.

“Okay, then. Tell me, now. Tell me, please.” I scoot toward the edge of the bed, my arm straining where the drip is connected. “Just once.” I join my hands, intertwining them in a gesture of praying. “Tell me I’m wrong, that my accusations are baseless. I want to believe you. Despite all the evidence pointing to the fact that you married me for an ulterior motive, I still want to believe you’re not capable of this.” A tear slips from my eye. “I want to believe you’re not capable of breaking my heart so ruthlessly.” My heart aches as I replay our memories together. All those moments that felt so real.

“Those rare smiles, the way you looked at me... they can’t all be fabricated, can they? The warmth in your voice, the way you held me when I needed it most... I need those to be real. Please.” My voice cracks.

“Like I said, you’ve already made up your mind. Now you want me to deny it, to tell you your accusations are wrong. You think that’ll clear everything. But it won’t.”

“You don’t even want to try?” I ask softly.

“Try what? Denying it or defending myself? You should’ve asked me before you ran. You made your choice now live with it.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair.”

“At least tell me why you married me. It’s painfully obvious it wasn’t because you wanted to. It can’t be because of my dad’s business—you’re at his level now. So why?”

I touch my rings. “Marriage is a promise, a commitment. It’s a promise to love each other always. And a little more on days you can’t love yourself.” My voice trembles as I continue, “I never thought I could ever have something like that. But then I met you and I started dreaming. I started hoping to have those dreams come true. I’ve never wanted anything as much as I’ve wanted a fairytale ending with you, Damian. I thought I had it when we got married. But now, suddenly, I find evidence that suggests all my dreams, my hopes, even my love—was a lie. Don’t I deserve to at least know why? Or if you did this to me?”

Pushing to his feet, he walks over to the floor to ceiling window. “That’s where you went wrong, angel. Dreaming of a perfect life when that kind of thing doesn’t exist.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s the truth. We can’t always have what we want. Life has a way of making sure we remember that.” His tone turns bitter.

“I don’t believe that. I think if we want something in life, we can achieve it.”

“Then I must be the exception.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You have to, damn you!” I cry out. Wrenching the drip from my arm, I get off the bed and go to him. Blood drips down my arm and onto the floor. I stumble a bit, stopping a few feet away. “Tell me why you’re so jaded. Tell me why you said we can’t have everything we want when you have everything the world has to offer—money, power, everything! Tell me what happened that made you so ruthless? Tell me why you are punishing both of us? Tell me!”

“Because your dad ruined my life!” He roars, his words thundering through me, leaving my world forever altered.