I didn't see Damien again for the rest of the gala.
Sasha found me still standing near the balcony doors, frowning after the empty space where he'd disappeared into the crowd. "Everything okay?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "He got a call and just... left. He looked upset."
Sasha's easy smile faded into something more serious. "Business call?"
"I think so. Does that happen often?"
She hesitated, which told me more than any answer could have. "Sometimes. Damien handles a lot of things quietly. There are people who don't like how successful Crew Enterprises has become. Competitors, mostly, but there've been... other issues too, over the years."
"What kind of other issues?"
"Nothing you need to worry about tonight," Sasha said, forcing brightness back into her voice, though I could tell she was deflecting. "Come on, let's find Felix and get you a drink. You've survived your first gala as Mrs. Crew that deserves celebrating."
I let her pull me back into the party, though my mind kept drifting back to the balcony, to the warmth in Damien's eyes right before his phone rang, to the way that warmth had vanished so completely and so fast.
We didn't see Damien for the rest of the night. Felix disappeared partway through as well, presumably called to handle whatever situation had pulled Damien away, leaving Sasha and me to navigate the remaining hours of small talk and forced smiles together.
By the time we finally left the gala, exhaustion had settled deep into my bones. Not just physical tiredness, but the specific, draining kind that came from performing a version of yourself for hours on end. The car ride home was quiet. Sasha had gone home separately, and I sat alone in the back of the Crew family car, replaying the balcony conversation over and over in my head.
*About how someone who's had every reason to be bitter still manages to be kind.*
I didn't know what to do with those words, or with the way my heart had reacted to hearing them.
When I got back to the estate, the house was dark except for a single light glowing beneath the study door. I hesitated in the hallway, debating whether to knock, before deciding against it. Whatever had pulled Damien away from the gala wasn't my business. The contract made that painfully clear.
I went up to my room instead, peeling off the navy gown carefully, hanging it in the closet like the precious thing it had become to me. I climbed into bed, but sleep didn't come easily. My mind kept circling back to the balcony, to the phone call that had changed everything so quickly.
• • •
I woke up the next morning to the sound of raised voices coming from somewhere downstairs. Not shouting, exactly, Damien didn't seem like the type to shout, but sharp, clipped words exchanged in tense tones that carried up through the old house's floors.
I got dressed quickly and made my way down, curiosity and concern pulling me toward the source of the noise. I found Damien in the study, Felix standing across from him, both looking grim.
"...can't keep ignoring it," Felix was saying as I approached the open door. "Three warehouses in the last two months, Damien. That's not coincidence, that's a pattern."
"I'm aware of the pattern," Damien said, voice tight with barely controlled frustration. "I don't need you to explain the obvious."
"Then explain to me why we're not doing anything about it."
"Because going after them without proof is exactly what they want. It gives them an excuse to escalate."
I hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt or retreat quietly. Damien's eyes caught mine before I could decide, and something shifted in his expression, not quite embarrassment, but a kind of guardedness reasserting itself.
"Silveria," he said, straightening. "I didn't realize you were awake."
"I heard voices," I admitted. "Is everything alright?"
Felix and Damien exchanged a glance I couldn't quite read. "Business matters," Damien said finally, the same deflection Sasha had used the night before. "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
I felt a flicker of frustration at being shut out so completely, especially after the fragile openness of the balcony conversation just hours earlier. "I'm your wife," I said, the word feeling strange and heavy in my mouth. "Even if it's just on paper. If something's wrong, maybe I could help."
Something almost like surprise crossed his face, quickly smoothed away. "This isn't something you can help with," he said, not unkindly, but firmly. "It's better if you stay out of it."
Felix, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. "I'll head out, let you two talk." He nodded politely at me on his way past, murmuring, "Don't worry about last night. He gets like this sometimes. It's not you."
After Felix left, the study fell into an uncomfortable silence. Damien moved to the window, hands clasped behind his back, the same posture he'd held the very first day I met him.
"Last night, on the balcony," I started carefully, "you said something happened. Was that the same thing Felix was talking about just now?"
He was quiet for a long moment before answering. "Someone's been targeting Crew Enterprises assets. Warehouses, shipments. It started small, easy to write off as bad luck or standard business risk. It's escalated recently."
"Do you know who's responsible?"
"I have suspicions," he said carefully. "Nothing confirmed."
"Is it dangerous?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, laced with more worry than I meant to show.
He turned to look at me, something unreadable in his expression. "Why does that matter to you?"
The question caught me off guard. Why did it matter? This was supposed to be a transaction, a contract, nothing more. And yet, standing there, watching the tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion barely hidden behind his composed exterior, I realized it mattered more than I wanted to admit.
"Because despite everything," I said slowly, choosing my words with care, "I don't want anything to happen to you."
The words hung in the air between us, more honest than either of us expected. Damien's expression flickered surprise, then something softer, something almost vulnerable, before the walls came back up, brick by brick, right in front of me.
"It's handled," he said finally, voice carefully neutral again. "You don't need to worry."
I wanted to push further, to ask more questions, to break through whatever wall he was so desperately trying to rebuild. But I recognized the futility of it. Some doors, once shut, weren't going to open just because I wanted them to.
"Okay," I said instead, quietly. "But if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here."
I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me at the door.
"Silveria."
I turned back.
"Thank you," he said, the words clearly costing him something to say. "For last night. And for this."
It wasn't much. A small thank you, quiet and reserved, nothing close to the warmth of the balcony conversation. But it was something. A crack in the wall, small but real.
I nodded and left him alone in the study, my mind buzzing with questions I knew I wasn't going to get answers to anytime soon. Something dangerous was circling Crew Enterprises, something serious enough to visibly shake a man who prided himself on controlling every situation.
I didn't know it yet, but that danger was going to pull me into its orbit far sooner than either of us expected and the peaceful, careful distance I'd been keeping from Damien Crew's real life was about to collapse entirely.