The morning dawned gray, with thick clouds hanging low as though the sky shared in Eliana's unrest. A light drizzle pattered against the tall windows of the mansion, blurring the view outside and casting the entire estate in a muted, somber hue.
The Moore family had begun preparing to leave early. Suitcases were packed. Polite farewells were exchanged with the staff. But none of it felt final—not to Eliana. Not when her entire world had been shaken and she still stood on trembling ground.
In the drawing room, her parents approached her quietly. Her mother's eyes were rimmed red, her father's features weighed down by something deeper than guilt. Regret, maybe. Or shame.
"We'll be heading out soon," Daniel said softly.
Eliana nodded, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She hadn't touched breakfast. Hadn't really said more than a few words since the previous night.
"Are you okay?" Isabelle asked, voice trembling.
Eliana looked at her mother, not answering immediately. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she finally said, "No. But I will be."
There was a long pause. Lucas hovered near the door, his face pale and uncertain. He hadn't left her side the entire morning.
Daniel stepped closer. "We can stay longer if you want. Help you through this."
Eliana shook her head. "I need time. Alone."
It wasn't a dismissal, but it was firm. A boundary she had to draw for herself.
They didn't argue. Isabelle pulled her into a hug. "We love you. No matter how badly we failed you."
Lucas gave her a soft punch on the shoulder. "Text me, okay?"
She managed a small smile and nodded.
They left around noon.
---
Damon watched from the balcony as the Moore family car disappeared down the driveway. He didn't go downstairs to say goodbye. He hadn't spoken to Eliana all morning. The house suddenly felt too big again.
She had been avoiding him. Every room he entered, she slipped out of. She hadn't sat at the breakfast table, and neither had he. Damon couldn't stomach food knowing she could barely stand to look at him.
Eliana sat at the kitchen counter after everyone left, sipping lukewarm tea and picking at toast. Her thoughts spiraled.
What was she supposed to do now?
So many pieces had come together—some painful, some illuminating. But were they all? Was this the full story? Or were there still corners in her mind she hadn't yet explored?
Worse, why was her heart behaving like this? Her mind screamed betrayal, but her chest ached with something warmer, softer, more fragile.
A longing she didn't understand.
A part of her wanted to hate Damon. Another part remembered the way his voice had sounded when he said he cared. The way he had stayed by her side, even when she told him not to.
The way his eyes softened when he looked at her.
It was infuriating. And confusing.
She spent the rest of the morning pacing her room, unable to sit still, unsure what she was even waiting for.
---
Damon couldn't concentrate at the office. His assistant had knocked twice with reminders for meetings, but he waved them all off. Every email went unanswered. Every document untouched.
He sat in his office, staring blankly at a framed photo of his late father.
"You told me to find a wife," he muttered. "Not to fall in love with her."
By mid-afternoon, he made up his mind. He shut his laptop, grabbed his coat, and left the office without a word.
---
Eliana was curled up on the armchair by the library window when she heard the familiar sound of the car pulling in. Her heartbeat kicked up.
She tried to stay calm, composed. But as soon as she heard the front door open, and Damon's footsteps echoing in the foyer, something inside her snapped.
She couldn't face him.
Not yet.
She fled to her room, shutting the door behind her just as Damon stepped into the hallway.
He stared at the closed door, hurt flashing in his eyes. For a long second, he simply stood there, conflicted.
Then he knocked.
"Eliana," he said, his voice low, almost pleading. "Please. Can we talk?"
"Not now," came her reply, muffled but firm. "Please go away."
Damon leaned his head against the door.
"I know you're hurting. I know I'm the last person you want to see. But I just want you to know… I meant what I said. Every word. You weren't just a deal to me."
Silence.
He waited. Hoped. But no response came.
With a soft sigh, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the small wrapped box.
He placed it gently on the floor outside her door.
"I got this for you," he said. "It doesn't fix anything. But maybe it helps."
Then he walked away, his footsteps growing fainter down the hall.
Inside the room, Eliana sat frozen. Her hand hovered over the doorknob for a long moment before she slowly opened it.
The box was small, wrapped in midnight-blue paper, tied with silver ribbon.
She picked it up carefully and brought it inside. Her fingers hesitated over the knot before tugging it free.
Inside was a delicate music box—silver and glass. When she opened it, a soft melody filled the room. Familiar. Haunting.
A note was tucked inside.
I'm sorry. For everything. I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to keep you safe. I still do.
– Damon
Eliana stared at the words, her eyes welling with tears she couldn't stop. Her heart throbbed with a strange ache
She hugged the music box to her chest, burying her face against it as the melody played on.
And for the first time since remembering, she let herself cry.
She didn't know if she was crying for the girl she used to be, or the woman she was becoming. All she knew was that something inside her had cracked open. And in that quiet, vulnerable space, the possibility of healing—of maybe even forgiving—began to quietly take root.