The next morning, Ava opened her bedroom door expecting silence.
Instead, she found a neatly dressed maid standing outside, holding a cream envelope.
"From Mr. Blackwood," the girl said, eyes lowered.
Ava took the letter and dismissed her.
Inside was a single invitation card, thick and embossed:
>Private Benefit Gala: Blackwood Foundation for Youth Development
Attendance required. Wear blue.
— D.
She crumpled the note in her fist.
Commands now? As if I'm a dog on a leash?
But she still wore blue.
A sapphire silk gown that dipped low at the back and fit her body like a secret whispered against bare skin. Her hair swept up, lips painted red. If she had to play the trophy wife, then she'd do it so well the world would forget who had dragged whom into this circus.
---
The gala was hosted in a private rooftop venue — glittering, extravagant, drenched in champagne and ice sculptures.
Ava entered on Damien's arm.
To the public eye, they looked like royalty.
To Ava, it felt like dancing in a cage.
"You clean up well," Damien said beside her, his gaze unapologetically slow as it swept over her.
"I'd say the same," she replied, "but your soul's still missing."
He gave a low laugh. "And yet, you're still holding my arm."
"You ordered me to."
"You could've refused."
Her voice dropped. "And miss the chance to embarrass you in public?"
He grinned. "Try it. I dare you."
---
The night passed in a blur of polite smiles, backhanded compliments from society wives, and endless whispered gossip. Ava played her role perfectly — arm candy, wife, enigma.
But it was when she stepped away to the balcony for air that the night shifted.
There, just beyond the glass doors, she overheard two men — one of them clearly trying not to be overheard.
"—still can't believe he married her. The Sinclair girl? After what her father did to Blackwood's parents—"
Her blood froze.
"What do you mean?" the other asked, lowering his voice.
Ava edged closer.
"You don't know? Her father ruined their family. Destroyed Blackwood's dad in court. It was all over the business journals ten years ago."
"You think that's why Damien married her?"
A pause.
"He's not the type to forgive."
---
Back inside, Ava found Damien near the bar, sipping bourbon, talking with a board member. When their eyes met, she walked up to him without hesitation.
"I need a word."
He raised a brow but followed her away from the crowd.
"You knew my father ruined yours," she said flatly. "That's what this is really about."
He said nothing.
"Is that what you do? Destroy families in return? Marry their daughters and turn them into pretty little prisoners?"
Damien's voice was low. "You really think I need marriage to ruin you?"
"Then why do it?"
He stepped closer, something stormy in his eyes. "Because your father took everything from mine. Because I watched my mother cry in silence for years. Because no matter how high I climbed, his name haunted mine. And when your world finally collapsed, I was there — waiting."
Her chest ached, but she masked it with anger. "So you took me in like a souvenir?"
"No." He paused. "I took you in because despite everything… I remembered you."
That stopped her.
"What?"
"I remembered you weren't like him," Damien said, softer now. "At least, not always. You were cruel once — yes. But you were also… real. You hated the chains you were born into. You looked at me that night like someone desperate to escape."
Her voice cracked. "And you thought marrying me was the answer?"
"No," he admitted. "But it gave me leverage. And I wanted to see what kind of woman you'd become."
Ava's eyes burned. "You're a hypocrite."
"Maybe."
"Do you even know what you want from me anymore?"
Silence.
Then, "No."
---
Back in the car, the ride home was quiet.
The city lights passed like ghosts outside the tinted windows.
Ava turned toward him.
"I want my own wing."
Damien glanced at her. "You already have your own room."
"I want a separate space. A place that's mine."
His eyes lingered on her for a second longer than necessary.
Then he nodded. "Fine."
"And I want access to the family files."
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because some truths hurt more than lies."
She leaned in just slightly. "I can take pain."
"I know," he said. "That's why you fascinate me."
---
The next day, Damien was gone by sunrise. Ava wandered into his office.
She wasn't looking for secrets.
She was looking for cracks.
And she found one — an old photo tucked beneath a locked drawer, barely hidden: Damien at sixteen, standing beside two older people with tired eyes and fading smiles. His parents.
Ava stared at the picture for a long time.
Then whispered, "What happened to you?"