Chapter 18 – The Price of Trust
The morning had started with soft light, the scent of rain, and the echo of last night's intimacy.
Now, it was war.
Elara sat motionless on the edge of the bed, staring at the folder Juliette had left behind. Damian stood a few feet away, his robe exchanged for a crisp black suit. The transformation was complete. Cold. Controlled. Calculating.
Just like the man the world believed him to be.
"What's in the file?" she asked, her voice tight.
Damian didn't answer right away. He opened the folder and flipped through the documents—photos, emails, transcripts. His jaw tensed.
"They have surveillance photos of you entering Monroe's private offices two weeks ago."
Her stomach sank.
"That was before we were even—"
"I know when it was," he cut in, his voice low.
"I was following a lead. About my father. About Vale Innovations. Monroe's people were connected to—"
He tossed the folder onto the bed. "It doesn't matter. It looks bad, Elara. They knew exactly when to leak this. You handed them the weapon."
She rose to her feet, anger bubbling beneath her skin. "Don't put this all on me. You've been keeping secrets too. About my father. About whatever's in that sealed testimony. I took a risk because I had no one else to trust—not even you."
"And yet you stayed in my bed," he said coldly.
She flinched, as if he'd slapped her.
"So now last night was a lie?"
Damian didn't respond. He turned to the window, staring out at the rain-slicked skyline.
Elara clenched her fists. "You think I betrayed you? After everything?"
He looked at her over his shoulder. "I don't know what to think."
That hurt more than any accusation.
"Then maybe you never really knew me at all."
He didn't stop her as she crossed the room, grabbed her phone and jacket, and stormed out.
Not once.
Not even to ask her to stay.
Downstairs in the VossTech lobby, reporters were already crowding outside the glass doors, flashes going off like gunfire.
Juliette intercepted her near the elevator.
"Elara, wait."
Elara stopped. Her emotions were raw, too close to the surface.
"Is it true?" she asked quietly. "Did Monroe plan this all along? Did they plant evidence?"
Juliette's face was grim. "They had help. Someone on the inside must've leaked your movements. Those photos weren't from public cameras. They were private."
Elara's heart dropped. "So someone in this building…?"
Juliette nodded.
"And the press conference?"
"Starts in thirty minutes. They're calling it an exposé on the 'infiltration of VossTech from within.' You're the headline."
Elara exhaled shakily. "They're trying to burn me to ruin him."
"Yes. And the board is panicking. If this story catches fire, Damian could lose investor confidence. Stock prices. Control."
Juliette touched her arm. "You need to disappear—for a few days, at least. Let the storm pass."
Elara shook her head. "If I run, it makes me look guilty."
"If you stay, they'll eat you alive."
She looked up, eyes clear. "Then let them try."
Two hours later, Elara sat in the back seat of a black SUV as Damian's legal team prepared for damage control. A PR specialist was barking into her headset. One of the assistants kept texting updates from the stock exchange.
In the eye of the storm, Elara stared at her own face on the screen—framed as a villain. "Vale Heiress Turns Spy in Corporate Espionage Scandal!"
Her stomach twisted.
The woman on the screen looked cold. Calculated. Dangerous.
But she wasn't. She was just desperate. Searching for the truth in the only way she knew how.
The SUV stopped in front of VossTech headquarters. Security surrounded the car, shielding her from the paparazzi.
As she stepped out, flashes exploded.
"Elara! Are you working with Monroe Industries?"
"Did you seduce Damian Voss for access to confidential intel?"
"Are you the reason Vale Innovations collapsed?"
She kept walking, chin high.
Upstairs, the boardroom was chaos.
Twelve executives argued across a long glass table, some standing, some pacing, some shouting into phones.
Damian stood at the head of the table like a general in a battlefield—stoic, silent, dangerous.
When she walked in, every voice died.
She could feel the tension snap taut.
One board member, a gray-haired man with a sharp jaw, spoke first.
"Mr. Voss, you can't be serious. She can't be present for this discussion."
Damian didn't even glance at him. "She stays."
Another member scoffed. "She's compromised the entire company."
"She's also the only one who might know who Monroe is working with internally," Damian said. "And until we find the mole, I suggest you direct your outrage at the right target."
Elara stood beside him, refusing to shrink.
Damian turned to her. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was steady.
"Tell them what you told me."
So she did.
She told them about her investigation into Monroe. About the connections to Vale Innovations. About the day she followed an anonymous tip to their offices. She kept it clean—no mention of the file she hadn't read, no details about her father's suspected murder.
When she finished, the room was silent.
Then the gray-haired board member—Mr. Wexler—leaned forward.
"And why should we believe anything you say? You've been lying since day one."
Elara looked at him. Her voice didn't shake.
"You don't have to believe me. But you should ask yourself who benefits from my downfall. Because it's not me. It's Monroe. And whoever in this room helped them."
Murmurs rippled through the board.
Damian finally spoke again.
"I'll handle this. Personally. Until then, Elara remains under my protection."
Wexler glared. "And if she really is guilty?"
Damian's eyes flashed. "Then I'll destroy her myself."
Elara's heart twisted—but she said nothing.
Later, in his office, they stood alone.
Elara paced near the window, the view blurred by incoming fog. Damian leaned against the edge of his desk, watching her.
"You meant what you said in there?" she asked. "About protecting me?"
He nodded. "Until I know the truth, yes."
"And if the truth doesn't favor me?"
"Then we'll deal with that when it comes."
She turned to face him. "You still don't trust me."
"No," he said quietly. "But I want to."
That almost broke her.
She walked to him, close enough to feel the heat of his body.
"I didn't plan to fall for you," she said.
He stiffened.
"But I did. Somewhere between the lies and the war and the silence—I fell. I don't know what you see when you look at me now, Damian, but I need you to know I wasn't faking it. Not the marriage. Not last night. Not any of it."
For the first time all day, his cold mask cracked.
"I don't know how to be with someone I can't control," he whispered.
"Then don't control me," she said. "Just… stand beside me."
He reached for her hand. Took it.
Held it.
Just long enough to let her believe—for one more night—that there was still something worth fighting for between them.