Chapter 39 Bloodstained Obsession

• The estate was cloaked in silence, the kind that felt like a held breath before a scream—tense, heavy, expectant. Night had fallen hours ago, yet Ivy found herself unable to sleep, her body restless beneath the silk sheets Damien had ordered for her room. They were soft, expensive, and scented faintly with lavender, but nothing could lull her mind into peace. Too much had happened. And something told her too much was still to come.
• She rose from the bed, bare feet brushing against the cool marble floor. The corridor outside was dimly lit, the sconces casting golden shadows along the walls, their flickering glow eerily beautiful. Ivy walked slowly, trailing her fingers along the wallpaper, every step echoing louder than it should have. Her path wasn’t aimless—she was being drawn, almost magnetically, to the west wing. To his quarters.
• She paused in front of Damien’s door, the imposing oak carved with intricate patterns that mirrored his personality—elegant, dark, and impossible to decipher at a glance. She wasn’t even sure why she was there. Part of her wanted to confront him again, to press for answers, for reasons, for anything that could help her make sense of the madness consuming her life. But another part—one she hated admitting existed—wanted to see him. To feel the weight of his stare, the intensity of his presence, the way his voice alone could make her spine tighten in both dread and something dangerously close to desire.