Chapter 7 The Rival's Trap

• The Blackwood mansion seemed to breathe with shadows that evening, its marble halls gleaming under muted chandeliers. Elena paced in her bedroom, her reflection ghostly in the tall mirror. Every tick of the grandfather clock echoed adding to her uneasiness. Since the gala, the atmosphere had shifted;colder and heavier. Damian spoke to her less, but his silences cut deeper than words.
• She longed to step outside, to feel fresh air that didn’t smell of expensive cigars and suffocating expectations. But she couldn’t. The Blackwood estate was not a home; it was a gilded cage.
• Across town, Astrid Nightshade stretched lazily on a couch in her apartment, the glittering city skyline beyond her glass walls. A cigarette smoldered between her fingers, perfume mingling with smoke.
• “You have them?” she asked, her tone sounding velvet over steel.
• On the other end of the line, a voice rasped, “Every shot you wanted, Miss Nightshade . Delivered discreetly.”
• “Good.” Astrid exhaled a languid stream of smoke. “Make sure Damian sees them. I want his perfect little wife crushed beneath his boots.”
• A cruel smile curved her lips as she imagined Elena’s tear-stained face. “Let’s see how long she lasts before she crawls back to the gutter.”
• Later that afternoon, Elena stepped into the garden, grateful for even a sliver of sun. The roses had begun to bloom again—Damian’s mother’s roses, the staff whispered. Their scent wrapped around her like a bittersweet memory.
• “Elena.”
• She spun, startled. Standing just beyond the wrought-iron gates was a familiar figure.
• “Lucas?” she whispered, her heart tightening.
• Lucas Reed. Her childhood friend. The boy who had walked her home from school when her shoes had holes, who had promised to protect her from the world. But the boy was gone; in his place stood a man with tired eyes and strong shoulders, his face shadowed with worry.
• “I had to see you,” he said quickly, his gaze darting toward the looming mansion.
• “You shouldn’t be here,” Elena murmured, panic rising. “If Damian finds out—”
• “I don’t care about Damian.” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “I care about you. Look at you, Lena. You don’t belong here. Not in this house. Not with him.”
• Her throat tightened at the sound of her childhood nickname. “Lucas, please. You don’t understand—”
• “I do. You know with what you did at the gala, the other night,he will make life more miserable for you. He won't even care if you're his wife because he's ruthless, Elena.” His hand reached through the bars, brushing hers. The warmth of his touch shot through her like lightning. “I see the pain in your eyes. You think no one notices, but I do. Come with me. Let me take you away,far from this.”
• Tears pricked Elena’s eyes. For one reckless second, she let his hand close around hers. She imagined escape. Freedom. A life where she could breathe.
• But reality crashed back. She pulled her hand away, shaking her head violently. “I can’t. My family… Damian saved them from ruin. I can’t abandon them.”
• Lucas’s jaw clenched. “So you’ll keep sacrificing yourself for people who don’t even know the hell you’re in!”
• Before she could answer, a shadow moved behind an upstairs curtain. Selena, watching with a satisfied grin. Her phone clicked once;another photograph.
• The image was innocent but framed correctly, “it would look damning.” She thought and laughed sinisterly.
• That night, Damian summoned Elena to his study.
• The room glowed with firelight, the air heavy with whiskey and smoke. Damian stood behind his desk, tall and unreadable, a crystal glass in one hand. In his other hand, lay a thick envelope,shoulders tense beneath his dark suit.
• Elena’s pulse quickened. She could always sense when danger was near. Tonight, it radiated heavily from him.
• “You wanted to see me?” she asked softly.
• His eyes, gray as storm clouds, lifted to hers. He set the glass down with deliberate calm, then picked up a thick envelope.
• “Where were you today, Elena?” His voice was low, deceptively calm.
• Her brows furrowed. “Today? I was in the garden, then the library. Why are you asking?”
• “Don’t lie to me.” His voice sharpened. He flung the envelope across the desk. Photographs spilled out like poisoned cards.
• Elena froze. Her own face stared back at her, lips parted in surprise, Lucas’s hand wrapped around hers. In another shot, Lucas leaned close, their heads tilted together. Out of context, the images screamed intimacy.
• Her breath caught in her throat. “These…these aren’t what they look like—”
• Damian’s fist slammed down, rattling the whiskey glass. His voice thundered. “Do you take me for a fool?”
• “I wasn’t…” She stammered, desperate. “Damian, please, it wasn’t like that. Lucas only came to—”
• “To what?” Damian snarled, rounding the desk in two swift strides. “Touch you? Hold you? Whisper his love while you wear my name?”
• His hand clamped around her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His grip was rough, bruising, his breath hot against her lips. “Do you think you can humiliate me, Elena?”
• Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to break. “I swear I’m innocent! Lucas is just…he’s just an old friend. That’s all!”
• “Friend?” Damian spat the word as if it were poison. “Do you think I’ll believe that? That I’ll tolerate being made a laughingstock while you crawl into another man’s arms?”
• Her body trembled, but her voice rose, fierce and broken all at once. “I’ve never betrayed you, Damian! Never! Even when you humiliated me in front of them all, I stayed. Even when you tore me apart, I endured. Do you think I’d betray you now?”
• For a heartbeat, something flickered in his eyes—doubt? Pain? Jealousy?,but it vanished as quickly as it came, buried beneath steel.
• A slow clap echoed in the doorway.
• Both turned sharply to see Selena, leaning against the frame in a black velvet gown, her smirk dripping venom.
• “Oh, Damian. So quick to defend your honor.” She tilted her head, eyes flicking to Elena. “And you, dear. So convincing. Almost believable.”
• “Get out,” Damian snapped, his voice like a whip.
• Selena’s smile only widened. “I only wanted to warn you, Damian. Women like her… they never change. They’ll always find their comfort in another man’s arms.”
• Elena’s face burned with rage and humiliation, but Selena’s words had already done their damage. With a final mocking glance, she drifted away, her laughter trailing down the corridor.
• The silence that followed was suffocating. Damian’s grip on Elena’s chin tightened until she winced. His eyes, once cold, now burned with dangerous fire.
• He shoved another photograph into her line of sight—Lucas’s arms around her in what looked like an embrace.
• His voice was low, guttural, each word a dagger.
• “Then tell me, Elena. If you’re so innocent…”
• He leaned down, his breath scorching her ear.
• “…then why do I have photographs of you in his arms?”
• The world seemed to shatter around her as his words echoed like a verdict.