When the knock came again, Ava's breath hitched in her throat. The metallic rhythm was slow, deliberate... a heartbeat against the heavy door.
Damian pressed her back, his body a living shield between her and whatever danger lurked outside.
"It's okay," he whispered, voice steady. "Stay together."
He extinguished the candle on the bedside table—shadow draped over the room like a cloak—then moved toward the door and cracked it open just an inch.
Rain-slicked marble greeted his gaze, and beyond it, gleams of moonlight marked a shape crouched in the courtyard. A hooded figure, hands balled into fists, hesitant yet brazen.
Damian stepped forward; Ava, shaken, clutched at his jacket. The figure rose slowly—another person emerged from the darkness: Mia, drenched, trembling, desperate.
Ava's heart sank; Damian's arm came out to steady her.
"Mia?" Ava managed, voice soft but firm.
Mia's wide eyes shone with panic beneath the curtain of her wet hair. She shook her head mutely. One hand reached into her purse—a flash of metal.
Damian's expression hardened; he grabbed his phone.
"No, wait—" Mia's voice cracked. She was crying now. "Please... listen."
Seconds stretched. Outside, the storm held its breath. Inside, all that trembled was Mia's confession—and Ava's slow, dawning fear.
Mia dropped to her knees on the marble steps, water pooling around her. She drained of color, collapsing in shame and raw fear.
"It's… he's taking everything."
Damian knelt beside her. "Who, Mia?"
"Mario." Her head fell forward. "He nearly broke me tonight." Her voice was small—almost gone. "He... warned me, threatened me."
Ava joined them at the door, torn between anger and empathy. "Why come here?"
Mia raised her tear-streaked face. "I saw you... with Damian." She staggered forward. "And I thought—if he really cared for you—he could stop Mario. I thought if he helped you, maybe he'd help me."
Damian's jaw clenched. He tucked his phone away. "This house is not safe for you, Mia."
She blinked, staring at Ava. "I don't have anywhere else."
Ava shifted, rubbing Mia trembling shoulder. "We can help you," she said quietly. "You'll stay here until this passes."
Damian looked between them, assessing the broken woman at his doorstep. He drew in a breath and nodded. "Okay. But only for tonight."
They led Mia through silent halls to the guest quarters—the familiar wings where Ava had first found refuge. Damian made sure lights stayed low, doors secure. Ava brought a blanket; Mia wrapped herself in it, apologizing in breathless sobs.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, "for everything. I— I was wrong."
Ava's voice softened. "You're scared, Mia. We'll help you."
Through the window, thunder rolled as Mario's SUV passed by, lights flashing across the manicured lawn like warnings. Mario froze.
Damian stepped between her and the window. "He won't come in. Not while I'm here."
Mia nodded, conviction trembling in her eyes. "I... I trust you."
An Unexpected Confession came up later that night, on the balcony overlooking the drenched gardens, Damian and Ava stood close. The night air was thick with rain, charged as much by the storm as by their racing pulse.
Ava whispered, "He's spiraling."
Damian's gaze narrowed. "He feels threatened. More so than ever."
She leaned into him, wrapping around his waist. The scent of his skin calmed her. "I never thought I'd feel safe with anyone."
He let out a breath. "I want you to feel that every moment."
Her voice tightened. "I can't go back with him."
Damian lowered his head until their foreheads touched. "You won't."
A distant crash of thunder followed her whisper: "We'll face whatever comes. Together."
Inside the grand foyer, Damian summoned Conrad—his best security specialist. The tall former MI6 agent appeared from the darkness, drenched but composed.
"Head's up," Damian said. "Mario is planning something. We don't know what yet, but he's desperate."
Conrad nodded. "He'll escalate. You're in the clear—until he's pushed too far."
Damian's voice held steel. "Let me know immediately."
Before they retired, Damian pulled Ava back into the drawing room. He held her by the shoulders, quiet intensity bubbling beneath his touch.
"I love you," he whispered. It was soft, but carried everything between them—the battles, the storms, the fierce hope.
Ava pressed her cheek to his chest. "And I love you."
He brushed his lips across her forehead. "Rest now. Tomorrow… everything changes."
A final knock echoed—gentle again, deliberate. Not Naomi this time; not his doing.
Damian motioned to Ava and Mia to stay, then approached the door. The marble glittered wet as he watched Mario's fixer stand in the moonlight, holding a single envelope—damn near identical to earlier.
Damian's gaze froze.
The fixer stepped closer. "He says if you refuse to talk tomorrow, things get messy."
Damian's jaw clenched. He took the envelope prior to responding, hand tightening. The fixer backed off with respectful distance.
The door closed, silence returned, but tension remained thick in the air.
Damian swallowed, voice hushed. "Tomorrow we face secrets. All of them."
Ava straightened, heart hammering. Mia hovered behind. All three absorbed the dangerous promise buzzing between them.
The night ended with one unspoken truth:
Every secret Mario buried could explode.