Chapter Eleven : Before the Storm
12 pm the next day, Ava woke up to a bed , vividly remembering she slept on the couch in Damien's guest room. She ignored it . And made her way to looking for him, after doing the necessary bathroom duties.
Ava found him in the music room.
Of all the rooms in the penthouse, it was the least touched by business ,no files, no laptops, no phone calls. Just a black baby grand piano and silence thick with unsaid things.
Damien sat at the keys, not playing, just staring. His tie was loose, shirt sleeves rolled up. The man behind the empire looked... tired.
"Did you ever play?" she asked from the doorway.
He glanced over. "I used to. My mom said every Wolfe had to master three things, language, finance, and control."
Ava stepped in slowly. "You dropped the first two into your DNA. What about control?"
A humorless smile tugged at his lips. "I'm still working on that." Ava noticed and smiled too.
She moved to sit beside him, fingers brushing the keys gently. "What does she want, Damien? Your mother?"
He didn't answer right away.
"She wants to see what makes me weak. She thinks you're one of them."
Ava inhaled, spine tightening.
"I'm not weak," she said quietly.
"No," Damien agreed. "But you are real. And she doesn't believe in real."
She smiled, loving how real he gets with words.
She sat beside him, their fingers barely touched on the ivory keys, his warmth beside her suddenly grounding.
No business deal. No headlines. Just breath. And nearness.
"If she tries to humiliate me," Ava whispered, "don't defend me out of pride. Let me speak for myself."
He looked at her then, really looked. "You've already said more with silence than most do with speeches."
***
Later that day...( The Wolfe Estate)
The drive took nearly an hour, weaving through a gated countryside guarded by cameras and invisible power. The Wolfe estate stood like a quiet fortress, wrapped in gardens manicured to obsession, walls tall and cold.
The parking lot , adorned with cars of different types.
Inside, elegance bled into intimidation.
Antique chandeliers.
Portraits of every Wolfe patriarch.
Awards won.
And then... Her.
Eleanor Wolfe entered the drawing room like a queen inspecting an empire. Ice-blonde hair, sharp emerald eyes, dressed in a black dress so clean it looked sharp. She smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. Just like Damien.
"You must be Ava," she said, voice silk and steel. But screaming cruelty.
"Yes, ma'am," Ava said, holding her ground.
Damien hovered behind her, unreadable.
Eleanor circled like a hawk. "You're prettier than I expected. Simpler, too. You look... unpolished. Which is, in its way, refreshing."
Ava blinked but didn't flinch. "I find polish comes from within. But I suppose you'd know more about that." she retorted.
Damien coughed to hide a laugh.
Eleanor's lips twitched. "You have teeth, at least. Good. My son likes things that bite."
The dinner was a performance. Every fork placement, every comment designed to prod, test, unveil cracks. Eleanor's questions came wrapped in compliments:
"Have you ever been in a house this large?"
"You must find the attention... overwhelming."
"Damien always had a soft spot for damaged things."
But Ava held her own, poised, graceful, never shrinking.
When dessert was served, Eleanor finally turned to Damien. "And what are your intentions?"
He lifted his wine glass. "To keep my business intact. And her safe."
Eleanor narrowed her eyes. "I wasn't asking about your business."
He met her gaze without flinching. "Then you asked the wrong son."
Eleanor chuckled, like she expected that.
***
In the car afterward, silence reigned for a while.
Then Ava whispered frowning, "She doesn't like me."
"She doesn't like anyone," Damien replied. "She barely tolerates me."
Ava leaned back, eyes closed. "She called me a charity case in five different ways." she whispered again.
"She's terrified of anything she can't buy," he said.
Ava smiled faintly. "Then she should be very scared of me."
Damien turned his head, watching her with something dangerously close to awe.
"You scare everyone, Ava Morgan. Even me."
"do I ?" she asked , Damien shrugged.
"I doubt ". She said.