Chapter 6: The Woman in the Photograph
The rain had stopped by morning, leaving the mansion wrapped in a cold silence. Sunlight filtered through the windows, soft and uncertain, touching everything except the two hearts trapped within its walls. Amara woke with a headache and the memory of Damian's words echoing through her chest. You shouldn't have come into my life.
She tried to shake it off, but the ache refused to fade. The more she learned about him, the more tangled their lives became. Every answer opened a darker question, and every wall he built made her want to understand what he was hiding behind it.
When she walked into the dining hall, Damian wasn't there. His coffee cup sat untouched, steam long gone. The maid whispered that he had left early for a meeting.
Amara nodded, though disappointment bit at her heart. The house felt colder when he was gone, but heavier when he was near.
She decided to distract herself with work. She spent the morning in the garden, pruning the flowers the gardener had neglected. Her hands moved on their own, trimming away wilted petals, searching for beauty beneath decay.
It was almost noon when she heard a car pull up outside. She turned, expecting Damian.
It wasn't him.
A woman stepped out of the sleek black vehicle—tall, elegant, with long dark hair that gleamed under the sun. She wore a white dress and carried herself with effortless grace, the kind that made the world pause to look.
"Mrs. Cole?" the woman asked, her smile polite but sharp.
"Yes. You are?"
"Lydia." The woman extended her hand. "A… friend of Damian's."
The pause before friend didn't go unnoticed.
Amara shook her hand slowly. "What brings you here?"
"Just checking on an old acquaintance," Lydia said. "I didn't expect to meet his wife so soon."
Amara smiled thinly. "Neither did I."
Lydia laughed softly, though there was no warmth in it. "You're brave. Most women would crumble under Damian's coldness. I suppose that's what he likes about you."
Amara's chest tightened. "You seem to know him well."
Her eyes glinted. "I did. Once."
Something about her tone sent a chill through Amara's spine. Lydia's gaze drifted around the garden, then settled on the ring on Amara's finger.
"Beautiful," Lydia murmured. "I remember when he bought that ring. He said he'd only give it to a woman he truly trusted."
The words struck deep. Amara's voice faltered. "He told me it was just a ring."
Lydia smiled, a hint of cruelty in it. "He lies beautifully, doesn't he?"
Before Amara could respond, a familiar voice sliced through the air.
"Lydia."
Damian stood at the top of the stairs, his expression unreadable, his jaw set in stone.
The woman turned, her smile softening. "It's been a while, Damian."
"What are you doing here?" His voice was calm, but every word carried warning.
"I came to see you. And your wife." Lydia's gaze flicked between them. "I wanted to meet the woman who took my place."
Amara's heart stopped. Her place?
Damian's eyes darkened. "Leave."
Lydia took a slow step toward him. "You can bury the past, but you can't erase it. Not even with another woman wearing that ring."
"Lydia—"
She laughed quietly, brushing past him. "Be careful, Damian. Secrets have a way of finding their way back. Even the ones you swore would stay dead."
Then she was gone, leaving the air thick with ghosts.
Amara stood frozen, staring at the doorway where the woman had disappeared. Damian didn't move. He stood like a statue, every muscle tense.
"Who is she?" Amara asked finally, her voice trembling.
He didn't answer.
"Damian," she said again, louder this time. "Who is she?"
He turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers with a pain so raw it almost frightened her. "She's the reason I don't believe in love anymore."
Her heart sank. "You loved her."
He exhaled, his gaze distant. "Once."
The silence stretched between them, sharp and suffocating.
Amara took a step closer. "And she betrayed you—with Ethan?"
He didn't deny it. "They destroyed everything I built. The company, my reputation, everything my father left behind. She sold my trust to him."
His hands clenched at his sides, and for the first time, his voice cracked. "And I was too blind to see it."
Amara felt the pain in his words like a wound of her own. "I'm not her, Damian."
He looked at her then, truly looked, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of something—fear, hope, longing. Then he looked away. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
He left before she could say another word.
---
That night, the storm returned. The wind howled through the corridors, rattling the windows like whispers from the past. Amara couldn't sleep. The sight of Lydia's cold smile and Damian's broken expression replayed in her mind over and over.
She wandered the halls until she found herself outside his study door again. Light glowed faintly beneath it.
Her hand hovered over the handle. Don't, she told herself. He doesn't want you here.
But something stronger than fear guided her hand. She turned the knob and stepped inside.
Damian was at his desk, staring at a glass of untouched whiskey. His jacket was gone, his tie loose. He looked up when she entered, his eyes tired but alert.
"I told you not to come here," he said quietly.
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because you shouldn't be alone," she said simply.
He stared at her for a long time. "You don't understand what that woman did."
"Then make me understand."
He hesitated, then spoke, his voice low. "Lydia was my fiancée. She and Ethan were my partners when we started Cole Dynamics. We built everything together. I thought they were my family." He paused, pain flickering across his face. "Until I found out they had been selling company secrets to investors behind my back."
Amara listened in silence, her heart aching for him.
"When I confronted them," he continued, "they turned everything on me. The board believed their lies. Overnight, I lost everything. My name, my company… her."
He let out a shaky breath. "And when I needed her most, she stood beside Ethan."
Amara stepped closer, her eyes soft. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he said bitterly. "It taught me the truth. Love isn't real—it's just leverage waiting to be used."
She shook her head. "You're wrong. What she did wasn't love. It was greed. You can't let her define what love means."
He laughed quietly, the sound hollow. "You talk like someone who's never been broken."
"Maybe I have," she whispered, "but I still believe people can be healed."
Something in her voice made him look up. Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The storm raged outside, thunder rolling through the night, but in that room, the world went still.
Amara reached out, gently taking his hand. His fingers tensed, then relaxed under her touch.
"Let me in, Damian," she said softly. "You don't have to fight everything alone."
His eyes darkened, the wall between them trembling. "You don't know what you're asking for."
"Yes, I do," she whispered. "I'm asking you to trust me."
He didn't pull away. For the first time, he let her hand rest in his. The silence stretched, warm and fragile.
Then, barely above a whisper, he said, "If I trust you, you'll have the power to destroy me."
She met his gaze, her voice steady. "Then I'll spend my life proving I won't."
Damian's breath caught. He looked at her as if seeing light for the first time in years. The storm outside softened, the thunder fading into rain.
For once, the silence between them wasn't empty—it was ful
l of things unspoken, promises unmade, and hearts learning to beat again.
And somewhere deep inside him, behind the walls and scars, something began to thaw.