Ariana spent the morning cleaning her small room, folding laundry, anything to distract herself from the strange heaviness tightening in her chest.
Damian had left early.
In the rain.
Without breakfast.
He didn't look angry…
He looked determined.
That scared her more.
She carried the silver bracelet he gave her in her hand, tracing the delicate chain with her fingertip.
Why did such a simple thing mean so much?
Why was she thinking about him this much?
****
In the Mansion's Living Room
Ariana wandered downstairs and found Mrs. Rowan—the head housekeeper—polishing the shelves.
Mrs. Rowan smiled gently.
"Good morning, madam."
Ariana flushed.
"You can just call me Ariana."
"I'm afraid Mr. Steele won't like that," the older woman chuckled softly.
Ariana sighed.
"He cares too much about formal things."
"No, dear," Mrs. Rowan said knowingly.
"He cares too much about you."
Ariana blinked.
"M-Me? No, he just wants to maintain appearances."
Mrs. Rowan shook her head.
"Mr. Steele has had many women chasing after his name. But you… you're the first woman he brought home. The first woman he defended. And the first woman he ever looked at with patience."
Ariana's heartbeat stumbled.
Patience?
Damian?
With her?
"That man is not easy to reach," Mrs. Rowan added. "But he looks at you differently."
The warmth in Ariana's chest grew heavier.
Almost overwhelming.
She rubbed the bracelet again.
She didn't know what it meant.
She wasn't ready to guess.
****
At Steelenex Tower
The rain still fell heavily.
But Damian didn't move from his seat as his assistant laid out the investigation results.
A thick file.
Names.
Screenshots.
Payment logs.
Internal messages.
Evidence.
"Everything is here, sir," the assistant said.
"The company responsible for releasing the photo is already crashing. Stock down 19% in two hours."
Damian's eyes didn't move from the papers.
"And the person in her office?"
"Fired," the assistant said.
"Blacklisted from major firms. They won't work again."
Damian nodded once.
He felt no guilt.
No hesitation.
No second thoughts.
A man like him didn't send warnings.
He sent consequences.
He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled.
"Has Ariana seen anything online?"
"No. We arranged filters on her phone. She won't come across anything negative."
"Good," Damian murmured.
He didn't want her fragile heart bruised by cruelty she didn't deserve.
He stood and walked toward the window.
The rain streaked down the glass.
Ariana didn't understand the power he held.
Or the weight he carried.
Or how much his world wanted to tear her apart.
But she would never feel the damage.
He would stand in front of it all.
Like a shield.
He rested a hand lightly on the windowpane.
"Ariana…" he whispered to the empty office.
"Stay untouched by all this."
*****
Back at the Mansion
Ariana walked through the garden again, unable to shake the feeling that something big was happening somewhere far outside her understanding.
A storm she couldn't see.
A battle she didn't know about.
She sat by the fountain, knees pulled close to her chest.
For someone she barely knew, Damian occupied too much of her mind.
His voice.
His anger.
His protectiveness.
His vulnerability.
And now, his absence.
The rain had stopped, but Ariana felt like the world was quiet in a strange, heavy way.
Finally, she whispered aloud—
more to herself than anyone listening:
"Damian… when did you start mattering this much?"
She didn't know that at the same moment—
Damian stood in a high-rise tower across the city, looking out at the fading rain, whispering quietly:
"Ariana… I hope you're safe."
Their words couldn't reach each other yet.
But their hearts were slowly beginning to.