Three days after the gala, I found out exactly how dangerous "handled" really was.
I was in the garden that afternoon, sketchbook balanced on my knees, sun warming my shoulders while I worked on a new design. A coat this time, something structured and sharp, the kind of thing I imagined Damien would actually wear if he ever let himself enjoy anything. I'd gotten good at guessing his taste over the past weeks, even from a distance. Simple lines. Nothing flashy. Quality over noise.
A shout from the front of the house broke my concentration.
I dropped my sketchbook and ran toward the sound, heart already hammering before I even knew what was wrong. I found chaos at the front gate. Two security guards pinning a man to the ground, Benson barking orders into a phone, and Felix sprinting down the front steps looking paler than I'd ever seen him.
"What's happening?" I grabbed Felix's arm as he passed.
"Someone tried to get onto the property," he said, breathless. "Climbed the side fence near the east wing. Security caught him before he got close to the house, but..." He stopped himself, glancing toward the pinned man.
"But what, Felix?"
He hesitated, clearly debating how much to tell me. "He was carrying a knife."
The words hit me like ice water. "Is Damien here? Is he safe?"
"He's in the study. He's fine, Silveria, he's completely fine." Felix's voice softened slightly at the panic clearly written across my face. "Go inside. Let security handle this."
I didn't listen. I pushed past him and ran straight for the study, my mind racing through every worst-case scenario. I threw the door open without knocking, and there he was, standing by the window, phone pressed to his ear, expression carved from stone, completely unharmed.
Relief crashed through me so fast my knees nearly buckled.
He glanced over, saw the state I was in, and immediately ended his call. "Silveria. What's wrong?"
"You're okay," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "I heard shouting, and Felix said someone had a knife, and I thought..."
"I'm fine," he said, crossing the room toward me, something careful and unfamiliar in the way he moved, like he wasn't sure whether he was allowed to close the distance between us. "Nothing happened to me. Security caught him before he got anywhere near the house."
"Who was he?" I demanded. "Why would someone want to hurt you?"
Damien's jaw tightened. He was quiet for a long moment, clearly weighing how much to tell me, before he finally exhaled and gestured toward the chair across from his desk. "Sit. I'll explain."
I sat, my hands still shaking slightly from adrenaline.
"There's a rival company," he began, voice low and controlled, "run by a man named Victor Okonkwo. He's been trying to buy into Crew Enterprises' shipping routes for the past two years. I've refused every offer. Six months ago, the refusals stopped being polite."
"The warehouse attacks Felix mentioned," I said, putting the pieces together.
"Those, and other things," he confirmed. "Sabotaged shipments. A cyberattack on our logistics software. Threats sent through third parties, nothing traceable directly back to him, but obvious enough in intent." He paused. "This is the first time it's gotten physical, and the first time it's come anywhere near the estate."
"Why didn't you tell me this was so serious?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, fear curling into something closer to anger.
"Because it wasn't your problem to carry," he said simply. "You signed a contract to be my wife on paper. Not to inherit my enemies."
"I live here," I shot back. "If someone's willing to climb a fence with a knife to get near this house, that makes it my problem whether you want it to or not."
Something flickered across his face. Surprise, maybe, at the fire in my voice. He was quiet for a moment before speaking again, softer this time. "You're right. I should have told you sooner. I'm... not used to considering another person in these situations."
"Well, get used to it," I said, some of the fear in my chest easing into something steadier. "Because I'm not going anywhere."
The words surprised even me as they left my mouth. Not going anywhere. Like this house, this fragile contract, this quiet, guarded man in front of me had already become something I didn't want to walk away from.
Damien studied me for a long moment, something unreadable passing behind his eyes. "I'm increasing security around the estate," he said finally. "You'll have a personal guard whenever you leave the property. I know it'll feel restrictive, but until Okonkwo is dealt with, I need to know you're safe."
"Okay," I agreed, surprising myself with how easily I accepted it. A few weeks ago, the idea of anyone caring enough about my safety to arrange protection would have seemed impossible.
"Silveria." My name in his voice still did something strange to my chest every time he used it. "Thank you. For caring, even though you didn't have to."
"I think somewhere along the way," I admitted quietly, "I stopped seeing this as something I didn't have to do."
The air between us shifted again, the same charged quiet from the balcony settling over the study. For a moment, I thought he might close the distance between us entirely. Instead, his phone buzzed against the desk, and the moment scattered like it always did.
"I need to deal with this," he said, gesturing toward the phone, toward the chaos still simmering outside. "Will you be alright?"
"I will," I said. "Go."
He left, and I sat alone in the study for a while, processing everything I'd just learned. Victor Okonkwo. A name I'd never heard before that afternoon, now attached to a very real, very present danger circling the only home I had left.
I didn't know it yet, but Victor Okonkwo's name was going to come up again far sooner than I expected and not in a context that made anything easier.