Morning's harsh light crept across the grand marble floor as Ava wandered through the corridors of Damian's mansion, her heart still racing from last night's confrontation.
She could barely recall how she'd gotten home or into bed—only shards of panic and relief, of Damian's hand in hers and the icy aura radiating from Mario's fixer across the rain-slick driveway.
She paused by an arched window, tracing the rivulets sliding down the glass. Damian joined her silently, presence so background she'd almost forgotten he was there.
"You okay?" he asked tenderly, draping a coat around her shoulders.
Ava nodded, though even the soft wool didn't settle the flutter of nerves in her chest. "Yes… I think so."
He took both her hands, warmth enveloping her. "Tonight changes everything. You'll see."
Her gaze flickered to the papers on the nearby side table—the divorce documents, officially served, awaiting Bryan's signature.
Just thinking of them made her throat tighten.
Damian tilted her chin gently. "This is harder for him than you think."
Ava swallowed. "He was brutal. But he's afraid of you, isn't he?"
A complex look passed over Damian's face. "He knows his threats are useless. It's why he hid behind you. Now… he cannot."
She suspected more lay beneath the words, but didn't press. She just nodded.
Mario paced his private office, phone to ear.
"Did he—did Damian Lancaster really step between me and my house?" He growled at his fixer, pacing past sleek leather chairs and awards he'd collected before everything unraveled.
"Yes, sir," the man replied, voice low. "Mr. Lancaster made it clear: don't come onto his property."
Mario slammed his fist into the wall. The glass-framed certificates cracked, but his rage took it as a small triumph. He looked from broken glass to reflection in the mirror—watched himself unravel.
"Men are telling me I can't touch my wife," he hissed. "Then I will."
"No, sir," the fixer replied quietly. "You can't. You'll distiguish... no, no mistake–"
But Mario didn't hear him. Rage had scoured his senses clean.
Late afternoon, Ida's greenhouse inside the estate.
Damian guided Ava through the exotic orchids and palm trees, the air heady and humid. He held her by the waist, guiding a gentle sway.
The scent of rain clung to the vines, and sunlight offered reprieve. Ava closed her eyes and breathed it in. For the first time in years, she felt safe enough to just… exist.
"I still can't believe we danced with cameras watching," she whispered.
He chuckled softly. "My intention was simple."
"So was mine," she replied, voice hoarse. "I wanted the world to see you standing for me."
Damian lowered his lips to her ear, voice vibrating against her skin. "You have no idea how powerful that moment was."
Ava shuddered. "Powerful… beautiful."
He slowed the dance. "And necessary.
Because tonight… we'll finish this war."
Aav felt a prickle in her chest. "Tonight?"
He nodded gravely. "He'll come. You know he will."
She swallowed. "Why do I feel like we're walking into a trap?"
Damian brushed a thumb across her cheek. "Because we are. But it's the last one."
Nightfall: Dinner in the private courtyard, weathered stone table lit by candles.
Ava and Damian sat across from each other. Scented flames glowed, a hush blanketed the garden aside from cicadas chirping in the night.
Ava flicked her eyes up from the water glass. "Is it going to be violent?"
Damian shook his head, voice soft-cutting. "No. We won't allow it."
Their eyes held. Something passed between them—trust, longing, courage.
She reached for his hand. "Thank you." A tremor in her voice. "For believing in me."
Damian's smile was hard-lipped but gentle.
"No one protects what isn't theirs — and I refuse to let anyone threaten you again."
They stayed like that, hand-wrapped in shadow, while the candles guttered in the warm night air.
Midnight: The storm returns.
Heavy rain battered the courtyard as a matte-black SUV rolled into the drive. Mario stepped out, drenched, suit jacket soaked, a presence tensing the earth beneath his feet.
Ava emerged from the house, alarm striking her features.
Mario's eyes were steel. "Where are you?"
Ava pressed closer to Damian as he stepped forward.
"Outside," Damian said softly, holding Ava protectively. "He wants to see you, Ava."
Her stomach clenched.
Mario swallowed visibly. "I want you."
Damian's posture squared, effortless power radiating from him. "Then step forward—this is between us. He will not touch you here."
In the dark courtyard, two empires faced off: a furious man who had lost control, and a reserved titan who simply wouldn't flinch.
Ava could feel the tension radiating like currents through the rain.
Mario paused, fists clenched, then shook his head slowly. He looked at Damian, eyes narrowing.
"You'll regret this," Mario spat.
Damian nodded. "Prove it."
Mario backed away, vanished into the storm, engine roaring as he drove off.
Ava exhaled shakily.
Damian pulled her into his arms. "You did this."
She looked into his eyes. "We did this."
But as they stood soaked in lamplight, a new sound cut through the rain:
The chirp of Ava's phone. A single text from an unknown number:
"He is not alone."
Ava's breath caught. Damian laughed.
The war wasn't done but Damian wouldn't fidget a bit.