Chapter 3: "The Fire Beneath the Fame"(A villain's love story never burns quietly.)

The melody kept playing.

Soft. Sinister. Seductive.

Ava jolted upright in the bed, the silk sheet slipping from her skin. Her pulse hammered in her throat as the melody echoed through the walls of Damien's manor—slow, dragging notes like a music box drowning underwater. Her body still hummed from the night before, from him… but now the air felt charged, dangerous again.

She turned to Damien. He sat at the edge of the bed, naked from the waist up, tattoos peeking from under his shoulder blades like dark secrets carved into skin. He was silent, staring out the window, as if he knew exactly what tune was playing. As if he'd been waiting for it.

"You hear it too," she whispered, clutching the sheet to her chest.

He didn't look at her.

"It's not a song you forget when it was the last thing you heard... before everything you love is turned to ash."

His words made her freeze.

"Tell me," she said, eyes burning. "Tell me what you mean."

Damien finally turned. His face was calm, but his eyes—those silver-gray eyes—stormed with restrained fury.

"Fifteen years ago, in a town wiped off every map… there was a fire," he began. "Not an accident. A purge. And in that fire, my family burned. My childhood. My soul. And you…"

He stood, walking toward her slowly. "You were there, Ava. The mayor's golden girl. The little heiress in white. You were supposed to die that night too."

Ava's blood ran cold.

"That's not possible," she whispered. "I don't remember—"

"You were found unconscious at the edge of the woods," he said, stepping closer, his voice darker now. "Wrapped in smoke, humming that song. The one your mother used to sing when she wanted to silence your screams."

A memory—a flicker—slammed into her.

A burning piano. A woman in red. Her fingers bleeding as she played the melody over and over, whispering, "Remember this, Ava. Remember this and run."

Ava gasped. Her hands flew to her mouth, eyes wide in terror. "No… no. That's not real."

"It's real," Damien growled, suddenly grabbing her face, forcing her to look into his. "And someone—someone—went to a lot of trouble to wipe your past clean. But I remembered you. I found you. And now…"

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.

"I'll burn this world down if it means making you remember everything."

Her body trembled—not just from fear… but from the way his voice wrapped around her like velvet laced in poison. The twisted safety of him—the only man who hated her enough to want to destroy her… and loved her enough to protect her anyway.

"I don't know who I was," she whispered. "But I know what I feel when I look at you. That's real."

His lips crushed hers again—harder this time. Desperate. His grip bruised her waist, her back hitting the wall as they kissed like war. And this time, it wasn't slow.

This time, it was punishment. Passion. Obsession bleeding into every movement. Her moans swallowed by his mouth, her fingers tangling in his dark hair as he lifted her effortlessly and devoured every broken part of her soul.

They didn't make love.

They consumed.

Two ghosts. One fire.

Cliffhanger:

Hours later, while Ava lay in the aftermath of their storm, Damien stepped into the hallway, shirtless, cigarette in hand.

"Is it done?" a voice asked from the shadows.

Damien didn't flinch. "She's starting to remember."

The voice let out a dry chuckle. "Good. Because the others—they're waking up too. The ones who died in that fire? Ava's not the only one who survived."

Damien's jaw clenched. "Then we'll kill them again."

The hallway lights flickered. And from deep within the manor, a second piano began to play—the same melody.

Only this time, it was coming from the locked basement.

And Ava wasn't asleep anymore.

To be continued…