Chapter 4
Astrid was completely sober now. A single lamp cast a faint light across the room. In that dim glow, she slowly slid her hand over Damien’s chest, dressed in a delicate camisole.
“Mr. Thornwell-”
Before she could finish speaking, Damien abruptly shoved her hand away. “Stop bothering me.”
His cold, biting tone left Astrid momentarily speechless.
Meanwhile, Damien’s phone kept repeating the same monotonous message. “Sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable…”
He’d lost track of how many times he’d called, but no one answered.
“No, no, this can’t be. Nora’s just angry. She didn’t mean it,” he muttered frantically as he rose to his feet. “That’s it. I’m going home. Everything will be
fine once I’m there.”
With that thought, Damien slipped on his shoes and slammed the door behind him, leaving Astrid’s desperate shouts unanswered. He raced through the streets, ignoring every red light as he hurried home.
When he finally stepped inside, darkness greeted him.
I had always feared the dark. Whether Damien was there or not, I never left the house without a light on.
With anxiety building up in his chest, Damien paused before calling out into the quiet living room, “Nora?”
However, only silence met his voice.
With a sharp flick, he turned on the lights. The house was a hollow shell, stripped of every trace of me.
A chill ran through Damien, but he pressed on, cautiously entering the bedroom. Everything was perfectly in place—exactly as I’d left it.
The only photo we ever took together sat on the nightstand. But now, only Damien’s side remained.
As he looked at it, the memory flooded in. It was from our college graduation. He’d vowed to love me for a lifetime back then. But that promise fell apart the moment we joined the law firm.
When Astrid showed up, I was slowly pushed to the sidelines.
A pang of guilt stirred in Damien’s chest. But just as quickly, he buried it beneath excuses.
Hadn’t he always tried to make things right?
Like when he abruptly canceled our wedding, but then took me to The Gilded Fork afterward. Yet as the memory played out, he suddenly froze. That ” romantic dinner” had included Astrid. And not once did he ask what I wanted to eat.
When I said the shrimp tasted too fishy, he didn’t offer me anything else to eat. He simply left me on the sidelines, completely disregarded.
Damien could hardly believe it himself. Perhaps he hadn’t been as good to me as he’d always thought.
Haunted by that doubt, he tore through every drawer and cabinet, desperate to find any sign of me. But there was nothing. He stood there, utterly stunned.
Astrid had eaten the strawberry cake he’d promised me. He even gave her the roses he’d picked, simply because she liked them.
Time and again, the gifts meant for me somehow ended up with her. Ultimately, I was left with nothing.
Meanwhile, Astrid had it alla Corvella bracelet, a custom–made bed, fully automated furniture, and a wardrobe overflowing with designer dresses. Every single gift came from him.
The more Damien dwelled on the situation, the more uneasy he grew. Without hesitation, he jumped into his car and sped back to the law firm.
