Ava decided she was done playing defense.
If Damien thought he could walk all over her, parade her in public, dig up ancient insults and call it vengeance, he was in for a rude awakening.
She wasn't the scared little heiress anymore.
And if she had to be part of this twisted marriage, then she'd make sure he suffered too — in silence, behind those perfect, polished smiles.
So, she started smiling.
A lot.
Especially when it unsettled him.
---
It began with breakfast the next morning.
Damien entered the dining room in a sleek black button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbow, clearly expecting silence or venom.
Instead, Ava greeted him sweetly, her tone honeyed and bright. "Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?"
He froze mid-step.
His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"
"Being a good wife," she said innocently. "You know — pleasant, obedient, utterly perfect for the public eye."
He studied her like a puzzle he wasn't sure he liked.
"I don't trust sudden changes."
She sipped her tea and flashed him a wicked smile. "Then maybe you shouldn't have married a former heiress with teeth."
He didn't reply, but the way his gaze lingered told her she'd gotten under his skin.
Good.
---
Later that day, Ava began exploring Blackwood Tower.
If she was going to live under this man's shadow, she might as well know every inch of his world.
She wandered through the executive floor, ignored the judgmental stares from assistants and the stiff, whispering employees. They all knew who she was. And worse — what she was rumored to be.
Ava Sinclair. The broken princess. The bargain bride.
She found the records office by accident — and inside it, she found a wall of binders labeled with things she hadn't expected.
Sinclair Industries. Internal Reports.
Sinclair Family Holdings — Blackwood Acquisition Phase.
Her throat tightened.
He had planned her family's destruction.
Not stumbled into it.
Not profited off it.
No — he had hunted them, piece by piece.
She was still staring at the files when a deep voice cut through the air.
"Curiosity's dangerous in this building."
She turned. Damien stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable.
"You planned it," she said, her voice low. "You didn't just marry me for revenge. You destroyed my family. Bit by bit."
He stepped into the room, the door closing behind him.
"Yes."
"Why?" Her voice cracked.
"Because I could."
That simple. That brutal.
She swallowed, chest rising.
"You're proud of it."
"No," he said slowly. "I'm satisfied by it."
She stormed toward him. "Do you enjoy making people small? Do you feel powerful, watching them drown?"
He didn't move as she shoved him.
Didn't flinch.
But something in his eyes shifted. That cold silver flickered — just for a heartbeat — with heat.
"I never wanted to make you small, Ava," he said softly.
"Then why did you humiliate me?"
"Because it was the only way to get your attention."
What?
She blinked.
And that second of confusion — that tiny gap — was all it took for him to step closer.
Too close.
His hand slid to her waist.
"Tell me," he murmured, "are you acting… or are you just that good at pretending you don't feel anything when I touch you?"
Her breath hitched.
And it made her furious.
She smacked his hand away. "You're a narcissist."
He chuckled. "Maybe. But you're still standing very close."
"I hate you."
"Then stop looking at my mouth."
That was the final spark.
She shoved him again — but this time, Damien caught her wrist mid-motion and spun her, pinning her gently against the records cabinet. Not with violence. With control.
The air between them burned.
He leaned down, lips inches from her neck.
"I can't decide," he whispered, "if I want to kiss you again… or punish you for it."
Her voice was a breath. "Why not both?"
They stood there, heartbeats thunderous.
Then Damien pulled away, slowly, jaw tight.
"This isn't the game you think it is," he said. "And I'm not the villain you imagine."
"You're worse," she spat.
"And yet," he murmured, "you haven't walked away."
---
That night, Ava locked her door.
Not because she feared him.
But because she feared herself.
That moment in the records room had shaken her — not b
ecause she almost kissed him.
But because she wanted to.
And she didn't know if she hated him more for what he'd done…
…or for the way he made her feel alive.