Chapter 4
1059 Words
Isabella's POV
My cheeks burned as I stared at the floor, but my mind betrayed me, replaying the glimpse I’d caught of him. Broad shoulders. Chiseled chest. A dangerous kind of perfection. I clenched my fists, hating myself for noticing
“You’ve been quiet ever since you got here, but I see it. The way you tense up when anyone mentions your family. It’s not just the awkwardness of being here, is it?”
I stiffened, the truth catching in my throat. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t,” he said plainly. “Not in the way you think. But I make it my business to know about people like your father. The Grahams. Your family has a lot of skeletons in its closet, and let’s just say they’ve crossed paths with my plans.”
“Plans?” My heart thudded as I looked at him.
He shrugged, his expression unreadable. “I need to bring them down. Completely.”
The words hit me like a shockwave. For years, I’d fantasized about escaping their grip, about someone finally knocking them off their pedestal. But I’d never dared to imagine it could happen. I’d been too consumed with survival to entertain such a wild thought.
But now, staring at Damian’s dark eyes, I could feel the storm brewing inside me, rising from the ashes of years of pain and humiliation. “I never thought about revenge before,” I said slowly, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion. “Not because I didn’t want it, but because I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance.”
I stepped closer, gripping the railing so tightly my knuckles ached. “But now, with all of my blood and everything in me, I want them to pay. Even if it’s the last thing I do.”
Damian didn’t flinch at my intensity. Instead, he nodded, his gaze darkening. “Good.”
The words tumbled out of me, raw and unfiltered. I told him about the neglect, the cruel words, the constant pressure to be someone I wasn’t. About how they treated me like an afterthought, a pawn in their games. But there were things I couldn’t say.
I couldn’t tell him that half my organs were missing, or that the hair on my head wasn’t even mine. The thought alone sent a wave of shame crawling up my spine. I couldn’t bear to see his expression if he knew how broken I truly was.
But as I spoke, something shifted in the air between us. I didn’t know how long we talked. Time seemed to blur as I let myself feel something I hadn’t in years: hope. For the first time, I wasn’t alone in wanting to see the Grahams fall.
“We’ll figure it out,” Damian said finally, his voice resolute. “But understand this isn’t just about you. I have my reasons for wanting to destroy your family.”
I nodded. “I don’t care why you want it. I just need to know you’ll follow through.”
“Oh, I will.” His smirk was dangerous. “And if you want this as badly as I do, you’ll do whatever it takes.”
I held his gaze, my resolve hardening. “I will.”
When we finally returned to the dining room, it was empty. The long table, once full of tension and whispers, now stretched eerily quiet.
“They left,” Damian observed casually, his tone devoid of surprise.
I blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. They’d left me. Again.
I stepped outside, fumbling for my nonexistent phone before realizing I had no way of calling a cab. A dry laugh escaped me. How had I even survived this long without a shred of independence?
Damian followed, raising a brow when he saw me staring down at my empty hands. “No phone?”
I shook my head, heat rising to my cheeks.
“You’re hopeless,” he muttered, his tone almost amused. “You might as well stay here tonight.”
“I—what?” I stammered, unsure if I’d heard him correctly.
“It’s late,” he said with a shrug. “And since your family clearly didn’t care to make arrangements for you, it’s not like you have anywhere else to go.”
He wasn’t wrong. As much as I hated the idea of staying, I didn’t have much of a choice. “Fine,” I muttered.
“Good. Let’s get you settled.”
When we reached the guest quarters, he paused. “We weren’t exactly expecting you, so no room was prepared. You’ll have to stay in mine for now.”
My heart jumped into my throat. “Your room?”
He glanced over his shoulder, clearly unbothered. “Relax. It’s not like I’m going to sleep on the floor. You get the bed.”
We entered his room, and I froze. It was surprisingly understated—dark tones, minimal decor—but what caught my attention wasn’t the room. It was Damian, pulling off his shirt without a second thought.
I turned away quickly, my cheeks flaming. “You could at least warn me,” I muttered.
“Why?” His voice was laced with amusement. “It’s just a shirt.”
I glared at the wall, determined not to turn back around.
“You’ve never had a sleepover, have you?” he asked, his tone suddenly lighter.
I frowned, the question catching me off guard. “A sleepover?”
“Yeah,” he said, and I could hear the smirk in his voice. “You know—sharing a space, staying up too late, annoying each other.”
I hesitated, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself. “No. I’ve never had one.”
“Well,” he said, his tone softer now, “think of this as your first.”
I finally turned to face him, and my breath caught. He was leaning casually against the bedpost, the dim light catching the hard planes of his chest. I quickly looked away, but the image burned itself into my mind.
And that’s when it hit me—this man, the one who was going to help me destroy everything I hated, was someone I was undeniably attracted to.
It was going to be a long night.
- Writer
