A traitor in the House.
The penthouse felt eerily quiet. My heels barely made a sound on the Persian rug as I walked. Damian hadn't come home after the gala last night. No call, no text, nothing to explain his absence.
Not that I expected one.
But today, the silence felt awkward heavier, like the walls were hiding secrets.
I made my way to his office, stopping at the door. Usually, it was locked tight, but today, it was slightly open.
I hesitated for a moment before pushing it open.
Inside, Damian's empire was on full display. Monitors lined the walls, showing security feeds and encrypted files. A massive desk dominated the room, piled high with books and glass. I stepped in slowly, my eyes scanning for something, anything.
Then I spotted it.
A folder bearing the Di Carlo family crest.
My breath hitched.
I knew I shouldn't, but my fingers moved almost on their own, flipping it open.
It was a ledger, much like the one Damian had shown me days ago. But this one was filled with names. Names I recognized. Judges, officers, politicians.
And one name at the bottom sent chills down my spine: Lucien Marchesi.
There was a photo clipped to the corner. He looked younger than I remembered, sharper, but his eyes were the same—cold and calculating.
He had been in my life once… a long time ago. A business associate of my father. I remembered him charmingly slipping me candies during long meetings, telling me I had my mother's eyes.
And then, he disappeared. The week my father died.
"Looking for something, little dove?"
The voice sliced through my thoughts, and I turned around quickly, my heart racing.
Damian stood in the doorway, his jacket off, sleeves rolled up, his jaw clenched tight.
You left the door open,* I managed to say, my voice shaky.
"No, you opened it."
He approached me, each step deliberate and slow, like a predator closing in on its prey.
I shut the folder fast, feeling cornered. *I just...*
"Don't lie to me." His voice was low, more dangerous than if he'd shouted.
He stepped closer, invading my space, pressing my waist against the table.
"I let you into my house, my world, my name, and you repay me by snooping through my files?"
You said you'd give me the truth,* I wanted to snap back.
"That," he growled, "is not how you get it."
His hand reached up not to hit, but to cup my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.
"You don't get to poke around like some little spy, Claire. This isn't a game. The men in that file would slit your throat just for looking at it."
*Then maybe I should be scared of you too,* I whispered.
His thumb brushed my lower lip.
"You should be," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. "But you're not, are you? Not really."
I didn't respond; I didn't need to.
The tension between us thickened, and then he stepped back, raking a hand through his hair.
"I have a meeting tonight. With Lucien."
My blood ran cold. Why?
"Because someone's feeding him information. I want to know why he's circling my empire again after five years of exile."
My hands tightened behind me. *What if he's not the enemy?*
Damian turned sharply. "He is. You just don't know how dangerous he is yet."
He knew your father. Did you know that?*
"Yes."
"He smiled at you, bought you sweets, played the doting uncle. And then, when your father was at his weakest, Lucien gave the order to end him."
No.
"Yes, and now he's back, smiling again. I don't like what that means."
That night, Damian left me with three guards stationed on the floor.
I waited until two of them got distracted by a security update and slipped out quietly, like a ghost.
I didn't have to search far; Lucien was already waiting. I found him outside the elevator on the ground floor, wearing a mask, a coat, and a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I was wondering when you'd come," he said.
You're insane for being here.
"No, I'm desperate, and desperate men tell the truth."
I crossed my arms, standing beside him. Why did you kill my father?
He raised an eyebrow, "I didn't," Damian said you did.
"Damian talks a lot when he's feeling trapped. But really, Claire, think about it why would I kill a guy who made me millions? Why would I silence someone who never turned on me?"
"Your father ran because he was scared. But not of me. He was scared of Damian."
That's a total lie.
"Is it really? Or has the devil spun his own version of the truth in your head?" He handed me a USB drive.
"Here are your father's real files. The ones Damian never let you see. I've held onto them all these years for the right moment."
I stared at it, trembling. Lucien took a step back. "You'll find out soon enough. And when you do, you'll finally see who the real monster is."
Back at the penthouse, I couldn't take my eyes off that USB for hours.
My hands were shaking as I plugged it into my laptop. There were dozens of files.
Financial records, voice memos, emails. One memo really stood out.
It was my father's voice terrified.
"If you're hearing this, I didn't make it. Damian isn't who he claims to be. He wanted the ledger for leverage, but I refused. He said I'd pay for that decision. He… he threatened Claire. He said she'd be next if I didn't comply. I had to run."
I hit pause, tears filling my eyes. My world felt like it was tilting.
Everything Damian had told me his cold certainty, his power plays, his obsession wasn't about protection at all.
It was about control. And now, I realized the real devil wasn't Lucien; it was the man I'd married.