The door closed behind them with a soft click, and Eliana was alone.
She stood in the center of the room for a heartbeat longer, her breath shallow, before her knees gave out beneath her. She sank to the floor, trembling as if her body was unraveling, thread by aching thread. Everything inside her felt too full, too loud—as though her mind had been cracked open and the pieces refused to fit back together.
Her fingers curled against the floorboards as silent tears slipped down her cheeks. The memory of Sebastian's grip on her arm, of her own voice begging her mother to save her, of her father's helpless silence, all rushed in like a flood, drowning her in shame, betrayal, and disbelief.
They had all failed her.
And Damon...
She let out a broken laugh, bitter and full of grief. He had been her supposed savior, and yet he had been a stranger with strings of his own. A man who said he cared, who claimed to protect her, and yet never told her the truth.
She pressed her forehead to the edge of the bed, fists clenched.
"I was never anyone's priority. I was just...a transaction."
She didn't know how long she stayed there, wrapped in the kind of sorrow that made it hard to breathe. Her tears had soaked into the rug beneath her, her body still shaking from the weight of everything. For the first time, she truly wished she hadn't remembered at all.
---
Downstairs, the atmosphere in the drawing room was tense.
Damon sat with his elbows on his knees, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Daniel and Isabelle Moore sat opposite him on the antique sofa, their expressions drawn and weary.
"Thank you for what you did for her," Isabelle began softly, her voice hoarse from emotion. "Even if it didn't feel like it to her then."
Damon didn't respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and earnest. "You don't owe me gratitude. I didn't do it for you. I did it for her. And now, I want her for real. Not out of obligation, or because of a debt. I care for her. Deeply."
Daniel leaned forward, his gaze sharp. "Do you love her?"
Damon looked up. "Yes. I do."
A long silence followed.
Then Damon added, "She deserves to know everything. All of it."
Daniel tensed. "No. Not everything."
Damon frowned. "You're talking about..."
Daniel nodded, his tone hardening. "That secret dies with us. If she remembers that part of her life... she'll never forgive you. Or us."
Damon looked away, torn. The weight of that hidden truth felt like a ticking bomb in his chest. "But what if she does remember? One day?"
Daniel's voice was grave. "Then let's hope by then... she's fallen in love with you enough to survive it."
---
Upstairs, Eliana hadn't moved.
The knock at her door startled her. She wiped her eyes, trying to compose herself, but her voice cracked as she called, "Come in."
The door creaked open and Lucas peeked in. "Can I...?"
She nodded.
Her younger brother stepped inside, looking painfully grown up with his taller frame and serious expression. He closed the door behind him and sat on the floor beside her.
"You okay, El?"
She let out a shaky breath. "Do I look okay?"
He gave a small smile. "You look like someone who just found out the world sucks."
That pulled a tiny laugh from her, though it was choked with tears.
"I missed you," he said after a beat. "We all did."
She turned to look at him, her eyes red. "Did you know? About the deal? About me being... given away?"
Lucas shook his head quickly. "I knew we were in trouble, but I didn't know that. I swear. When you disappeared, Mom said you were safe and that was all she told me."
"Safe," she echoed bitterly. "What a joke."
Lucas reached over and gently took her hand. "You're still my sister. And I still think you're the strongest person I know."
She squeezed his fingers. That small comfort steadied her, if only a little.
---
Dinner was prepared with quiet hopefulness.
The dining table had been set for six, the silver gleaming, soft candlelight flickering across polished wood. The meal smelled rich and inviting—rosemary chicken, roasted potatoes, fresh salad.
But one seat remained empty.
"She said she wasn't hungry," the maid whispered to Isabelle.
The mother sighed and stood from the table. "I'll talk to her."
---
Eliana had changed into a loose cotton nightgown, curled beneath a throw on the bed. She wasn't asleep, but her eyes were closed, her mind racing.
"Sweetheart?"
She looked up. Isabelle stepped in, eyes soft with concern.
"May I sit?"
Eliana nodded slowly.
Her mother sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing down her skirt. "You have every right to be angry. At me. At your father."
"You said you'd protect me," Eliana whispered. "You said I was your world."
Isabelle's lip quivered. "And I failed. I thought I was choosing the lesser evil. I didn't know... I didn't know how much it would cost you."
Tears streamed down Eliana's cheeks again. "I was scared. Every day. I was angry. And I hated everyone, including myself."
Isabelle reached out but stopped just short. "We can't change the past. But I promise you, Eliana, we will spend the rest of our lives making up for it. If you want space, you'll have it. If you want to walk away, we'll support you. But please don't shut us out forever."
Eliana turned her face to the wall. "I don't know what I want."
"That's okay," her mother whispered. "Just know you're loved. Fiercely."
She stood, placed a kiss on Eliana's hair, and left.
---
Damon waited until the hallway cleared before knocking gently on her door.
"It's me," he said quietly.
No answer.
He opened the door and stepped inside, only to be met with silence.
She didn't look at him. Just lay there, wrapped in her blanket like armor.
He cleared his throat. "I know you probably don't want to see me. I just... I needed to see that you're okay."
Still, she didn't respond.
He crossed to the bed but didn't sit. "I was wrong to keep things from you. And I know that saying sorry won't fix what you're feeling. But I needed you to know that every day since the accident, I've tried to protect you the best way I knew how."
A pause.
"You were never just a deal to me, Eliana."
She stirred slightly. "Then why does it still feel like I was?"
He sighed. "Because I made mistakes. And I can't erase them. But if you ever let me, I'd spend every day proving that I want you here because of who you are. Not because of how we started."
She still didn't look at him.
Eventually, he whispered, "Goodnight," and left the room.
---
The night stretched long and sleepless.
In her room, Eliana lay staring at the ceiling, wondering if she'd ever feel whole again. The shards of her life had come back together in the worst way. And every time she blinked, the shadows behind her eyes reminded her of the love she never chose.
Down the hall, Damon sat in the dark of his study, the whiskey untouched on the table beside him. He hadn't turned on the lights. The darkness felt more honest.
He thought about her pain. Her silence. Her eyes when she said, "You traded me."
It haunted him.
He didn't sleep.
Because love, when built on lies, wasn't love at all. Unless you were willing to tear down every wall to make it right.
And Damon wasn't sure yet... if he still had the chance to try.