Chapter 11 The Witch and the Billionaire

Elira returned to the bedroom late that night, her thoughts heavy with Mirella's warning.

"Either you return to us, or we will take everything from you."

She had known this moment would come eventually. The world she had tried so hard to escape—the darkness she had been born into—was pulling her back.

She slipped into bed beside Damien, who lay still, his breathing slow and even.

But she knew he wasn't asleep.

"Where were you?" His voice cut through the silence, sharp and deliberate.

Elira hesitated. "I needed air."

Damien turned to face her, his eyes unreadable in the dim light. "You weren't alone."

Her stomach twisted.

She had been careful. Had he seen Mirella? Had he heard anything?

Elira forced herself to remain calm. "I met an old friend."

Damien's gaze didn't waver. "Mirella Vasquez?"

A beat of silence.

Elira's fingers tightened on the sheets.

His jaw clenched, and when he spoke again, his voice was ice. "Why are you lying to me?"

She swallowed hard. "I'm not—"

"Don't." He sat up, the muscles in his back tense. "I've trusted you more than I've ever trusted anyone. And now I find out you've been sneaking around with a woman who doesn't even exist?"

Elira closed her eyes briefly. "She exists."

"Then tell me who she is," Damien demanded. "Tell me what the hell is going on."

Elira's heart pounded.

If she told him the truth, he would never look at her the same way again.

But if she kept lying, she would lose him anyway.

She took a slow breath. "Mirella is part of my past."

Damien's expression darkened. "And what exactly is your past, Elira?"

She hesitated.

He watched her closely, searching her face for answers. And then, he said something that sent a chill through her veins.

"I had you investigated, too."

Her entire body went still.

"I wanted to know where you came from. Who your family was." Damien's voice was dangerously quiet. "But I found nothing."

Elira's breath caught.

Not even she had known how deeply he had looked into her past.

His fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket. "You're not just hiding something from me, Elira. You're hiding everything."

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Then Damien exhaled sharply and stood.

He grabbed his phone and suit jacket, heading toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Elira asked, forcing her voice to remain steady.

"To get some real answers," he said without turning back.

And then he was gone.

The Gathering Storm

Damien didn't go home that night.

Instead, he met Blackwood in his private office downtown.

"I want everything you have," Damien said, pacing the length of the room. "Everything on Elira. Her past, her connections, Mirella Vasquez. I don't care what it costs."

Blackwood raised a brow. "You're sure?"

Damien's jaw clenched. "I married a woman I don't even know. That's a mistake I need to fix."

Blackwood leaned forward. "Then let me tell you what I've already found."

Damien stilled. "Go on."

Blackwood opened a folder and slid a document across the desk.

Damien picked it up—and his blood ran cold.

The name on the birth certificate was Elira Vasquez.

Not Elira Harrington, as he had known her.

Vasquez.

The same surname as Mirella.

Damien's mind reeled.

Was Mirella her sister? Her cousin? Why had Elira hidden something this basic?

Blackwood's voice cut through his thoughts. "Here's where it gets interesting." He tapped another file. "There are rumors that the Vasquez family was… different."

Damien frowned. "Different how?"

"Let's just say," Blackwood said slowly, "people from their village believed they had unnatural abilities."

A cold sensation crept up Damien's spine.

"You mean superstition," he said, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.

Blackwood's smirk was sharp. "Do I?"

Damien slammed the file shut.

He didn't believe in magic.

Didn't believe in curses, in witches.

But something in the pit of his stomach told him—

He should.

The Awakening

Elira woke to the sound of a child crying.

She sat up instantly, her senses sharp.

The triplets.

She rushed down the hall to the nursery, finding Isolde curled in her bed, clutching her head.

"Mommy," she whimpered. "Make it stop."

Elira knelt beside her daughter, stroking her hair. "What's wrong, my love?"

"The voices," Isolde whispered, squeezing her eyes shut. "I hear them."

Elira's heart stopped.

The voices.

The same thing Elira had heard when she was a child—when her powers had first started to awaken.

She gathered Isolde in her arms, whispering soothing words.

It was happening.

Her children were awakening.

And once Damien found out the truth, he would never forgive her.

The DecisionThe next evening, Damien returned home.

Elira was waiting for him in the grand foyer, her heart hammering in her chest.

"I need to talk to you," she said.

Damien's face was unreadable as he stepped inside.

"No," he said. "I need to talk to you."

Elira swallowed. "Damien—"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the birth certificate.

"Elira Vasquez," he said coldly. "That's your real name, isn't it?"

She exhaled shakily. "Yes."

Damien's jaw tightened. "And Mirella? She's your family?"

Another slow nod.

Damien's voice was like steel. "What else have you been lying about?"

Tears burned at the back of her eyes. "I never lied about loving you."

He didn't react to that. Instead, he took a slow step closer, his gaze piercing.

"Are you a witch?"

The question hung in the air, suffocating and absolute.

Elira felt her world crumbling.

If she said no, she would only be prolonging the inevitable.

If she said yes, she would lose him forever.

Her fingers trembled.

And then—

She whispered, "Yes."

The moment the word left her lips, the chandelier above them flickered—a reaction to the raw power inside her.

Damien didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Didn't blink.

He only stared at her, his expression cold.

Then he turned on his heel—

And walked away.

Leaving Elira standing there, shattered.