Daemon’s POVI didn’t knock.I had no reason to. This was my suite, my domain, and she was living under my roof—whether she liked it or not. The moment I stepped inside, I caught sight of her, standing stiffly by the bed, arms crossed in that defiant way of hers.Aurora Sinclair.She looked like she’d been pacing, her breathing shallow, her fingers twitching as if she’d been gripping something too tightly. Her phone lay discarded on the bed, and she turned to face me, eyes blazing with frustration.“You could at least knock,” she snapped, her voice sharp despite the unease flickering in her eyes.I smirked, shutting the door behind me with a deliberate click. “Why would I? You’re my fiancée, aren’t you?”She flinched at the word, just as I expected her to. That was the problem with her—she kept acting like she had a choice, like she wasn’t already trapped in this. But she was. Completely.She lifted her chin, meeting my gaze with forced composure. “What do you want, Daemon?”I took a
AuroraThe moment Daemon left, I felt like I could finally breathe again. But even with the door shut behind him, the tension in my body refused to fade.I had no idea how much longer I could take this.I grabbed my phone and dialed Valeria. She picked up almost immediately, her face filling the screen as I slumped onto the bed.“Tell me you’ve figured out a way to escape,” she said, skipping any greetings.I let out a dry laugh. “I wish. But it’s not that simple, Val.”She sighed, tucking her legs under her. “I know. I just—this whole thing still pisses me off. I mean, you’re engaged to Daemon freaking Reynolds. The man has the emotional range of a brick wall and the patience of a ticking time bomb. Are you okay?”“I’m surviving,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “Barely.”Her eyes softened. “So what’s the latest? What did he do now?”I groaned, falling back onto the mattress. “He stormed in here acting like he owns the place—like he owns me—and started with his usual intimidation rou
🌹Aurora🌹I had just finished my evening shower, letting the hot water soothe the lingering tension from my body. My mind was still tangled in the events of the past few days—Damien’s arrogance, his suffocating presence, and the way he always found a way to get under my skin.Wrapped in a robe, I stepped onto the balcony, hoping the night air would help me clear my head. The city lights stretched before me, twinkling like distant stars, but my thoughts remained stormy.Then my phone rang.I frowned, glancing at the screen. The number was familiar, yet unexpected. My heart clenched the moment I saw the name.Ethan.For a moment, I just stared, my thumb hovering over the decline button. It had been months since we last spoke. Since my father made it clear he would never approve of us. Since he was forced out of my life simply because he didn’t fit into the Sinclair mold of success.A lump formed in my throat. I shouldn’t answer. But against my better judgment, I swiped the screen.“…He
🌹Damien🌹Aurora stiffened, her grip tightening around the phone as if she could somehow erase the conversation I had just overheard. She didn’t answer immediately, which only made my smirk widen.“Should I take a guess?” I asked, stepping closer. “Your little ex, perhaps?”Her jaw clenched, and for a second, I almost thought she’d deny it. But she didn’t. Instead, she squared her shoulders and met my gaze head-on. “It’s none of your business.”That response only irritated me more. I wasn’t the kind of man who tolerated secrets—especially not from my fiancée.I took another step forward, closing the already small distance between us. “I think you’ll find that everything concerning you is my business, Aurora.”Her lips parted slightly, her breath uneven, but she held her ground. “You don’t own me, Damien.”I chuckled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She flinched but didn’t pull away. “No,” I murmured. “But I do own this engagement. And I won’t have my fiancée en
🌹Aurora🌹I never imagined shopping for a wedding dress would feel like preparing for my own execution.The boutique was grand, filled with rows of pristine white gowns displayed like pieces of art. The air smelled of roses and vanilla, the kind of artificial fragrance meant to make everything seem more magical than it really was.But there was no magic in this for me.Damien had arranged the appointment without consulting me. Typical. Now, I was standing in the middle of this lavish boutique, surrounded by fabric and eager assistants, while my so-called fiancé strode in like he owned the place.Which, knowing him, he probably did.“You’re late,” I muttered as he approached.Damien’s lips twitched into something close to amusement. “You’re impatient.”I scoffed, turning away before he could see how his presence affected me. He always carried himself with an air of absolute control, and even now, in the middle of a boutique meant for brides, he still looked more like a king deciding t
🌹Damien🌹I never cared much for weddings.They were nothing but elaborate performances, a way for the wealthy to show off their influence while pretending love had anything to do with it. My own wedding would be no different. It was a transaction, a merger disguised as romance.And yet, as I watched Aurora in that dress, something unsettled me.I hadn’t planned to stay at the boutique for long, but after that moment—after seeing the way the gown molded to her like it was made for her—I found myself lingering. I could tell she noticed. She was trying to pretend my approval didn’t affect her, but I saw the way her fingers trembled when she smoothed the fabric.She felt it too.That shift. That tension. That undeniable pull between us.I was about to say something—though I wasn’t sure what—when my phone vibrated in my pocket. A sharp buzz that cut through the silence between us.I checked the caller ID. My jaw tightened.Valencia.I exhaled sharply and turned away, answering the call a
🌹Aurora 🌹I turned to leave.I barely took a step before a strong hand wrapped around my wrist, yanking me back with enough force that I stumbled. A gasp escaped my lips as I collided with Damien’s chest—hard, warm, and unyielding. His grip tightened around my waist, pulling me flush against him, his presence overpowering."You keep trying to run," he murmured, his voice deep, smooth, and far too amused. "Yet you know you can’t escape me, Aurora."I swallowed hard, trying to push away, pressing my palms against his solid chest. He didn’t move. Instead, his fingers splayed possessively against my lower back, trapping me in place. The heat of his body seeped through my clothes, making it impossible to ignore just how close we were."Let me go," I bit out, willing my voice to sound strong.His lips curved into that maddening smirk. "Say it like you mean it."I shoved against him again, my fingers curling into fists. "I mean it."His grip remained firm, his body an unmovable force. "No,
🌹Aurora 🌹I stood frozen at the threshold, the echo of Damien’s words still ringing in my ears—cold, possessive, unyielding. My heart hammered as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. The memory of his touch, the way his fingers had brushed my skin with a mix of tenderness and threat, was impossible to erase. I could still feel the ghost of his grip on my wrist and the heavy promise behind his whispered declaration: “You belong to me now, Aurora.”I staggered back into the room, closing the door slowly behind me as if I could lock away the turmoil he’d stirred. My hands trembled and I pressed them against the wall, taking deep, shuddering breaths. My mind was a whirlwind—anger, defiance, fear, and something else I refused to name. I knew I wasn’t ready to give in, but part of me felt trapped by the reality of this arranged engagement, forced upon me by my father and sealed by Damien’s relentless claim.I sank onto the edge of the bed, my back trembling as I tried to collect myself.
🌹 Aurora 🌹Aurora sat alone in her apartment, staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The room was still, save for the soft hum of the city outside. She had always found peace in this quiet solitude, but today, everything felt different. Her stomach churned, a cocktail of nerves and dread swirling inside her. The wedding was tomorrow. Tomorrow, her life would change forever.She glanced at her phone, which had been quiet for hours. There were no messages from Ethan, no words of reassurance or encouragement. It was probably for the best, she thought, pushing away the disappointment. What could he say anyway? She was about to marry someone she barely knew, someone she had been forced into a life with by promises made long before she was born.Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. It was her mother, Lila, followed by her brother, David. Aurora straightened up and walked toward the door, her steps slow and heavy, each one reminding her of the weight of
🌹Damien 🌹The days following my confrontation with my father were filled with an oppressive silence. It was as though a rift had opened between us, and no matter how hard I tried to bridge it, nothing would close the gap. I had done everything he asked of me, everything that was expected, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he had already chosen his side.Victoria’s influence over him was undeniable, and with each passing day, it became clearer that the legacy I had worked so hard to build, the empire that I thought would one day be mine, was slipping further away. It was no longer about business. It had become personal.The weight of that realization settled like a stone in my chest, and no matter how many times I tried to shove it aside, it lingered, suffocating me. The anger, the frustration, it all built up until I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at a dark abyss. If I fell, I might never be able to climb back out.But the one thing I knew for sure
(Damien's Point of View)The days that followed my confrontation with Victoria felt like an endless barrage of rehearsed smiles and veiled threats. There was a tension in the air at Sterling Estates, something invisible yet heavy that I couldn’t shake. I had tried to maintain the facade of normalcy—business as usual—but every glance from Victoria, every calculated word, seemed designed to unsettle me. She was playing a game, and she was far too good at it.I spent hours in my office, the sterile, cold atmosphere providing a semblance of clarity as I reviewed contracts and figures, pretending I wasn’t thinking about her. But the truth was, I couldn’t stop. Every encounter with her left me feeling like I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t control, something I wasn’t prepared for.I leaned back in my chair, running a hand over my face. The day had dragged on without any real resolution, and now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the house seemed quieter than usual. The
(Damien's Point of View)The boardroom was cold, a sterile environment designed for efficiency and control. Everything about it, from the polished mahogany table to the perfectly aligned chairs, screamed precision. But as I sat at the head of the table, the weight of the room pressed down on me, heavier than the fine suit I wore, heavier than the expectations of my father, my company, and now, the looming wedding. Every detail felt orchestrated—an intricate dance that kept everyone in line, including myself. But beneath that order, there was an undercurrent I couldn't ignore. The unease that had settled in my gut since Victoria’s arrival hadn't dissipated. In fact, it had only deepened, gnawing at me with a persistent force I couldn’t shake.I glanced at the faces around the table. The board members were as stone-faced as ever, each one accustomed to the cold, calculated exchanges that defined our meetings. My father, seated beside me, looked every bit the part of the imposing CEO—dis
🌹Damien 🌹I sat at my desk in the study, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the vast, quiet room. The day’s meetings and wedding preparations were behind me, but the weight of my past and present still pressed heavily on my mind. Even as I reviewed reports and figures, it was Victoria’s presence—or rather, the ghost of her influence—that haunted me.Ever since she had stepped into our household, replacing the warmth of my departed mother with a calculated chill, I had sensed something off. At first, I tried to dismiss it as mere adjustment; after all, she was my father’s new wife, and her efficiency was exactly what he had wanted. But over time, subtle signs began to gnaw at me. There were moments when her polished smile would waver ever so slightly, hints of manipulation hidden behind her practiced civility. I had long learned to trust nothing that wasn’t explicitly proven, and now, Victoria’s actions had planted a seed of doubt that grew with each passing day.I
🌹Damien🌹I was twelve when I first saw her. I still remember the day vividly, though the details have blurred over time like an old photograph fading at the edges. It was a cold winter afternoon, the kind when the sky was a relentless gray and the wind whispered secrets through the halls of our vast, impersonal mansion. I had just come home from school, my uniform still crisp despite the chill, when I found myself drawn to the drawing room. I had no inkling then that my life was about to change, that a woman would step into my world and claim a place that I never knew existed.There she was, sitting in the armchair that once belonged to my mother—a chair that had always been a silent reminder of her warmth and kindness. In that moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. I watched as she sipped a glass of red wine, her dark hair pulled back into an elegant chignon, her eyes cool and assessing. Her presence was commanding in a way that felt both alien and enthralling. I remember the
🌹Damien 🌹The earliest memories I have of my mother are soft and warm, like the scent of lavender that always lingered around her. She was the only person in our house who ever truly smiled—who ever looked at me as if I were something more than just an extension of my father’s legacy.In the grand estate where silence was a rule and discipline an unspoken law, she was the one who broke through the cold. She would sit by the grand piano, her delicate fingers dancing across the keys, humming soft melodies while I sat by her feet, absorbing her presence like a parched desert absorbing rain.“Damien,” she would say, tucking a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, “you don’t have to be like him.”At the time, I didn’t understand what she meant. I was only a child, desperate for my father’s approval but unable to escape the magnetic pull of my mother’s gentleness. In a house where perfection was demanded and failure was unacceptable, she was the only one who made me feel as though I was en
🌹Damien🌹I remember the first time I realized that love was a rare commodity in our home. I was barely six years old, sitting at the long mahogany table in our grand dining room, the clatter of fine china echoing in a silence that spoke louder than any conversation. My father, Bryan Reynolds, sat at the head of the table—always impeccably dressed, his face set in a mask of stern authority—and my mother, whose laughter I once hoped would fill our home, was absent that day. I later learned that her presence was like a gentle warmth, something that made even the coldest mornings bearable. But in those early years, all I felt was the chill of my father’s disapproval, the heavy expectation that nothing less than perfection was acceptable.I would watch him for hours, the way his eyes would narrow ever so slightly when he reviewed the day’s work or when I made a mistake that, to him, was unforgivable. His presence was like a looming storm cloud that never dissipated—a constant reminder th
🌹Aurora🌹I woke in the soft darkness of my own apartment, not in the cold, impersonal halls of the Sterling estate. The gentle hum of the city outside mixed with the quiet murmur of my old heater, a comforting contrast to the chaos of the past few days. Last night, for one fleeting, forbidden moment, I had reclaimed a piece of the life I once thought was lost—a night with Ethan, a night when I allowed myself to believe in the possibility of a different future.The morning light crept through the thin curtains, painting my modest living room in soft hues of gold and amber. I lay still for a long while, my thoughts drifting between the lingering warmth of Ethan’s embrace and the bitter reality of my impending fate. The sheets, cool and rumpled from the night’s sleep, seemed to hold the memory of our shared moments, a quiet testament to the intimacy we’d once known.Ethan had come to my apartment under cover of darkness. I remember how my heart had pounded when I heard his knock at my