Chapter 2: The First Confrontation

The mansion’s air grew heavier as Damien disappeared into another room. My feet hesitated, but my curiosity propelled me forward. I couldn’t let him walk away—not when I’d just arrived.

Me: “Damien, wait!”

My voice echoed down the corridor, but he didn’t stop. I followed, my heels clicking against the marble floor, until I found myself in what looked like a study. Bookshelves lined the walls, and the faint scent of leather and whiskey filled the air.

He stood by the desk, pouring himself a drink. His movements were deliberate, each action exuding an unsettling calm.

Damien: “You should leave, Amara. Pretend this reunion never happened.”

His words struck like a slap, but I refused to back down.

Me: “You think you can just dismiss me? After sending that invitation?”

He finally turned to face me, his eyes narrowing.

Damien: “It wasn’t an invitation. It was a test.”

The room seemed to tilt as his words sank in.

Me: “A test for what?”

He took a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down with a soft clink.

Damien: “To see if you’d have the sense to stay away.”

Anger flared in my chest.

Me: “You don’t get to decide that for me. I came here for answers, Damien. I deserve to know why you pushed me out of your life—why you let them take me.”

For a moment, his mask slipped, revealing something raw beneath. Pain? Regret? I couldn’t tell. But just as quickly, it was gone.

Damien: “You’re asking the wrong questions.”

Me: “Then tell me what the right ones are!”

He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension between us palpable.

Damien: “Why would you trust anything I say, Amara? After everything you’ve heard about me?”

I froze. The rumors. The whispers about Damien’s involvement in things darker than I could imagine. But I refused to believe them.

Me: “Because you’re my brother.”

His expression hardened, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Damien: “Don’t mistake blood for loyalty. You don’t know me anymore, Amara. And if you did, you’d run.”

The room felt colder, his words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit.

Me: “Maybe I don’t know you now, but I want to. I deserve to.”

He looked at me for a long moment, as if weighing something in his mind. Finally, he turned away, walking toward the window.

Damien: “This isn’t a family reunion, Amara. It’s a reckoning.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in.

Me: “Then let it be. I’m not leaving, Damien. Not until I get the truth.”

He didn’t respond, but his silence spoke volumes. This wasn’t going to be easy, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what lay ahead. But one thing was certain—I couldn’t walk away. Not now.

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