Ava stood outside Damien's office with her hand hovering near the doorknob, her breath caught somewhere between steady and sharp.
She'd been here before.
But tonight felt different.
Last night's message still echoed in her mind—"You made today easier just by existing." Simple. Honest. And yet it felt heavier than all the polished things he'd said before.
She knocked once.
The door opened almost immediately.
Damien stood there, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, collar slightly loose like he'd shed the boardroom version of himself hours ago. His eyes met hers—and something unreadable flickered behind them.
"I was hoping it was you," he said softly.
She stepped inside without replying.
This time, there was no small talk. No pause. She walked to the center of the room, turned to face him, and folded her arms.
"I met your brother."
Damien blinked once, slowly. "Gabriel?"
She nodded. "He reached out."
"And you went."
"I needed to know if there were more pieces missing."
A long pause stretched between them.
"What did he tell you?" Damien asked.
"That the deal my father offered would've cost you control."
He didn't answer right away.
Instead, he walked past her, poured himself a glass of water, then turned back around.
"It would've changed everything," he said finally. "Not just my role, but the board, the investors... the way Blackwood Holdings operated."
"So you walked away."
His eyes lifted to meet hers. "Yes."
"But you knew it would destroy him."
"I hoped it wouldn't," Damien said. "I thought he'd have time to find another way. He said he did."
Ava swallowed the knot in her throat.
"But you knew the timeline was tight."
He nodded.
"And you let him fall anyway."
His jaw clenched. "It wasn't that simple."
"It never is," she said.
Silence fell between them, thick with everything not being said.
Finally, Damien spoke again.
"Gabriel's not wrong. But he doesn't know everything either."
She tilted her head. "Then tell me."
He took a slow breath, walked closer.
"I will," he said. "But not all at once."
"Why not?"
"Because once I say certain things, they can't be taken back. And I need to be sure you're ready."
Ava stared at him, heart thudding.
This wasn't a game. He wasn't playing for sympathy.
But she could feel it—there was something bigger buried under all this. Something he hadn't said. Something he was still protecting.
"I'm tired of being protected," she said.
Damien's voice was low. "I'm not protecting you. I'm protecting the version of us that might still survive this."
That made her breath catch.
Not from shock—but from the simple truth in it.
He motioned toward the couch.
She followed him, sitting beside him with just enough space between them for air, but not for coldness.
"I want to understand you," she said quietly.
"Then ask me anything."
"Why didn't you tell me about your brother?"
Damien looked away, then back. "Because I didn't think you'd ever need to know."
"And now?"
"Now I think there's a lot I didn't plan for."
They sat in quiet for a moment.
Then Ava asked, "Did you ever regret not taking the deal?"
Damien answered too quickly.
"Yes."
She raised a brow.
"That sounded practiced."
He gave a faint smile. "Maybe I've been asking myself that question for years."
She nodded, eyes scanning his face.
"I don't think you're a bad man," she said. "But I also don't think you've told me the full truth."
"I haven't," he admitted.
She waited.
But he didn't offer more.
And for once, she didn't push.
Because she could see it in his eyes—the same thing she saw in hers when she stood in front of a mirror after Easton's first major win. Fear. Hope. History.
A complicated heart trying not to break again.
They stayed like that for a while.
Not speaking.
Not moving.
Just existing in the space between past and future.
Eventually, Damien stood.
"I want to show you something."
She followed him down a hallway that led to a private elevator. One floor up, he unlocked a door Ava had never noticed before.
Inside was a room smaller than she expected.
But filled with framed photos.
Not of Damien.
Not of the company.
Of people.
Employees. Friends. Smiles. Candid moments.
A wall of memories.
"This is what I keep when no one's watching," Damien said.
She walked slowly to a frame near the center. Her father. Laughing at some company event, his tie crooked, his smile wide.
Ava's hand hovered near the glass but didn't touch it.
"You kept this?"
"I never took it down."
She turned to him.
"You knew what he meant to people."
Damien nodded. "That's why losing him hurt more than I ever said."
Her voice dropped. "And you think showing me this will fix it?"
"No," he said. "I think showing you this is the closest I'll ever come to telling you how sorry I am."
Something tightened in her chest.
Not from sadness.
From the way she was starting to feel again.
From the way this man—this complicated, guarded man—kept pulling her closer without asking for anything in return.
When they returned to the main office, it was past midnight. The city below was quiet, lights twinkling in the distance.
Damien walked her to the elevator.
Ava paused before stepping inside.
"Are you ever going to tell me everything?"
His answer came low and careful.
"When you stop seeing me as the man who destroyed your father."
She looked up at him.
"I'm starting to see you as something else," she said softly.
His eyes flickered. "What?"
"I'm not sure yet. But it scares me."
Damien leaned slightly against the doorframe, arms crossed, head tilted.
"Good," he said. "It scares me too."
The elevator doors closed between them.
But the silence it left behind wasn't cold.
It was electric.
That night, Ava sat on her couch at home with the lights off, watching the skyline blink outside her window.
She didn't cry.
She didn't replay the night a hundred times.
She just sat there—still, thoughtful, steady.
And for the first time in years, she didn't feel like her past was leading her.
She felt like she was standing at the edge of something new.
Something dangerous.
And she wasn't sure if she'd survive it.
But she knew one thing:
She wanted to see where it went.