Funeral

The tension between Damian and his father simmered just beneath the surface, a silent battle of wills playing out between them. 

"What do you think you're doing bringing that girl here?" Rafael's voice was low but sharp, laced with barely restrained anger. He sat behind his desk, fingers steepled together as he stared at his son who leaned casually against the doorframe, looking utterly unbothered. "You know what her father did to me. To us. That man is the reason we almost lost everything–he embezzled–"

"Father," Damian cut in, his voice calm but firm. "You and I both know that's not the truth. So you can stop with the lies."

Rafael's mouth snapped shut. His jaw tightened, but no words came out. 

Damian let out a bored sigh. "If all of this is just an attempt to break me and Crescentia up, you can forget it. I love her."

Rafael chuckled darkly. "Listen to yourself. Talking about love as if you even know what it means." His eyes narrowed. "You're not in love with that girl. You have your reasons for being with her, and I don't care what they are. What I do care about is keeping her away from this family. She's bad news."

"With all due respect, Father, whatever I share with Crescentia is none of your business."

Rafael's grip on his chair tightened. He had more to say, but what was the point? Damian had already made up his mind, choosing the daughter of his enemy over his own family.

But Rafael wasn't going to give up so easily. Damian wasn't in love with her—he was certain of that. He must have her by his side for fun. Which meant there wouldn't be any trouble in getting rid of her.

"If there's nothing else, I'll be taking my leave." Damian didn't wait for a response. He turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Rafael behind, seething in silence.

He was only a few steps away from the dining room when raised voices caught his attention.

"You dare to step foot into my home and insult me? Just who do you think you are?" Mira's voice was laced with venom.

"I didn't insult you," Crescentia defended, her voice steady.

As soon as she spotted Damian, her demeanor shifted slightly—not fearful, but calculated.

"Damian!" Mira called, her frustration evident.

"We'll be taking our leave now." Damian didn't even look at her. He simply reached for Crescentia's hand and led her out, ignoring his mother's protests as they walked through the mansion's grand entrance.

Outside, beneath the moonlight, Crescentia let out a slow breath. "I'm sure you're angry about how I spoke to your family," she said, turning to him. "But I only did it because of the way they spoke about my father."

Damian gave her a small, amused smirk. "You did great. You didn't disappoint me at all."

Crescentia frowned slightly, her brows knitting together. Was that why he brought her here? To provoke his family?

She hesitated, then asked, "What did my father do to your father? Why did he call him a criminal?"

Damian studied her, the moonlight reflecting in her green eyes. She wasn't afraid to ask questions, even when she knew the answers might be dangerous. That said a lot about her.

"Federico and my father were kind of friends in the past," he finally answered. "But things happened, and they split."

Crescentia frowned. That was barely an answer. But his tone made it clear he wasn't going to elaborate.

She decided to let it go—for now.

"I'll wire you the rest of the money," Damian said. "I'll take you home."

And just like that, the dinner was over. Their fake relationship was over.

Or so she thought.

The next day, Crescentia didn't bother dressing like the daughter of the late Belmore when she arrived at the funeral. She wore something simple, something that wouldn't make her stand out.

She hadn't even expected to be invited. After the way Magnus had thrown her out, she thought he wouldn't want her there.

But as soon as she arrived, she understood.

The media was everywhere. Cameras flashing. Reporters swarming like vultures.

So they only brought me here to look good in the eyes of the public.

Crescentia clenched her fists at her sides.

On the other side of the venue, Magnus noticed her arrival. His face darkened, but when a reporter approached him, he quickly masked his expression, adopting a sorrowful look.

"My brother was my best friend," Magnus said, his voice thick with feigned grief. "It's hard to believe he's truly left us, but I know he's in a better place now."

The reporter nodded, misty-eyed, while cameras continued flashing.

Then they spotted her.

The reporters turned, surging toward her like a stampede.

"Ms. Belmore, how do you feel about your parents passing away?" The mic was so close to her face that it almost seemed like the reporter wanted her to eat it. 

Crescentia felt Magnus' gaze on her, his expression tight and his eyes narrowed, sending her signals not to say anything stupid. 

An invisible smirk spread on her lips before she faced the reporters. 

"My parents' death came out shocking and heartbreaking because it happened all of a sudden. It almost seems like someone had planned for it to happen," she said. 

Magnus broke out in a cold sweat. Victoria who'd been attending to the quests caused a glimpse of Crescentia and was about to bounce on the girl but Magnus held her. 

"What do you mean? Are you trying to say that someone had orchestrated a plan to annihilate your parents?" The reporter questioned. 

A tear fell from Crescentia's eyes. "It must have been planned."

"And do you have any idea who could have done this? Perhaps a business rival?" The reporter asked. 

Crescentia wiped her tears with the back of her hand before she replied. "I'm not sure, but whoever it was that killed my parents, I'm going to expose them and have them punished for what they'd done!"