Chapter Ten: Cracks in the Mirror

The night was too still.

Damon stood at the edge of his private study, staring blankly at the skyline. Lights blinked in the distance—cold, impersonal—like judgmental eyes watching him unravel.

He should've felt triumphant. She was here, under his roof, sleeping in the room he once forced her into. The doctors had handed him a miracle—Eliana's amnesia was his second chance. But instead of relief, his chest ached with something he couldn't name.

Regret?

No. He couldn't afford that. Not when everything he'd built hung in delicate balance.

Damon exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. He'd told himself that wiping the slate clean was mercy—for both of them. She didn't remember the shouting matches, the cold glares, the day she tried to run.

She didn't remember that he was the man who bought her freedom—and locked her in another kind of cage.

"She doesn't belong there."

The anonymous message haunted him. It wasn't wrong. He had no right to keep her. Not really.

But he had to.

Not because of the debt. That excuse had long stopped justifying the lengths he was going to. This wasn't about vengeance or payback anymore.

It was about her.

And that was the most dangerous part.

---

He walked to the mini-bar and poured himself a drink. His reflection in the glass was a stranger. Cold eyes. Sharp jaw. Powerful. Untouchable.

But he felt anything but.

He remembered the night of the accident in vivid flashes—Eliana's voice raised, her hands trembling as she screamed at him, begged him to let her go. Her suitcase. The slamming of the front door. The screech of tires. His own panic as he followed her, too late.

She hated him then.

And now? She didn't even know him.

A bitter laugh escaped his throat. He'd taken advantage of that. Twisted her blank slate into a fairy tale she never signed up for. Told her that their marriage was blissful. That she'd chosen him.

She hadn't.

She'd chosen anyone but him.

And yet, tonight, when she looked up at him across the dining table with soft confusion instead of hate, something inside him shifted.

She was beginning to trust him.

He didn't deserve it.

---

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Bennett entered with a silent nod.

"She's asleep, sir. All quiet on the security end."

"Good. Maintain rotation. No one in or out without my say-so."

Bennett hesitated. "Her phone privileges?"

"Still restricted. I don't want her contacting anyone—especially her parents."

"They've been compliant."

"They'd better stay that way." Damon's tone darkened. "They forfeited their say when they handed her over like a bargaining chip."

And yet… they were just pawns, weren't they?

He was the one who decided to keep the game going.

---

Later, when the penthouse had gone still, Damon stood outside Eliana's bedroom. He didn't enter. He just stood there, staring at the closed door.

She was asleep inside. Peaceful, unaware. She didn't know she had loved another man. That Damon had made sure he disappeared. That her past life—her freedom—had been erased.

And still, he couldn't stop thinking about how her smile had returned tonight. It wasn't quite real… not yet. But it was close.

What if she found out the truth?

Would she run again? Could he bear it?

He didn't know.

What terrified him most wasn't the lie—it was the way he'd started needing it to be real.

---

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small—a velvet box.

Inside was a necklace he had custom-made the week after their forced wedding. She never wore it. She'd thrown it back in his face, called it a collar.

But now… maybe it could mean something different.

He placed it gently on the console beside her door and walked away.

He didn't sleep that night.

Because for the first time since her accident, Damon Blackwood wasn't sure if he still wanted her to forget.

Or if he was praying she never remembered.

He lingered in the shadows of the hallway long after leaving the necklace. Sleep eluded him—how could it not, when his nights were filled with silence too loud and truths too sharp?

Damon moved quietly to the living room, where the low amber glow of the chandelier cast a muted halo over the expensive furniture. It was all cold. Impeccable. Lifeless.

Just like he had been before she came into his life—before her defiance, her fire, her quiet strength began to melt something he hadn't even realized was frozen.

Back then, he'd thought control was enough. That power was love. That if he could give her luxury, erase her pain, offer her a life free from her family's crushing debt, she'd come to love him in time.

But it hadn't worked.

She'd loathed him. She hadn't even tried to hide it. Every meal they shared had been tense. Every glance, guarded. She'd flinched when he touched her—like his presence alone bruised her soul.

And yet… he hadn't let go.

He told himself it was about the deal. The contract. The favor he did for her father. That was the only thing keeping her bound to him, and he clung to it like a lifeline. A man who built empires couldn't stomach losing to something as unpredictable as love.

But now?

Now, she no longer looked at him with outright hate.

That was what had changed.

Her gaze tonight had been uncertain—searching. Not trusting, not forgiving… but softer than before. There was hesitation in her eyes, a flicker of something he couldn't name. Not acceptance. Not yet. But maybe the absence of fear. And that alone was enough to unravel him.

He'd manufactured this peace. Lied it into existence.

And the worst part? He was falling for the lie, too.

---

Damon sank into the leather couch, elbows resting on his knees, fingers knotted in his hair. For years, he'd commanded rooms, silenced boardrooms, intimidated rivals. But tonight, the weight of one woman's unknowing trust threatened to bring him to his knees.

What would she do if the memories came rushing back?

Would she scream again?

Would she run?

Would she look at him the way she had that night—with fury, betrayal, heartbreak?

He wasn't sure he could survive it a second time.

He used to fear losing her.

Now, he feared something worse.

That one day, she'd remember everything.

And walk away—not because she didn't know him…

But because now, she truly did.