Chapter Three:- The devil you made

Blackthorne's Mansion

The sleek black car pulled up in front of the grand gates of Blackthorne Mansion. The moment it stopped, Evelyn stepped out, graceful as ever. She wore a short black dress that hugged her curves, her cleavage boldly on display. One hand scrolled through her phone, the other tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Her red lips curled into a smile as she read the breaking news headline: “Evelyn Lockwood crashes Damien Blackthorne’s party with a marriage contract.”

“Beautiful chaos,” she whispered, pleased with herself.

Two guards stepped forward, carrying her designer luggage. She barely spared them a glance as she walked through the doors she once called home. The same gold-trimmed walls. The same antique chandelier. Even the scent of the roses by the entrance was unchanged.

“Tsk. Still the same boring taste,” she muttered under her breath.

She turned to the man who escorted her in. “Where is Damien Blackthorne? Won't it be nice of him to come out to welcome his new bride.”

Before the man could answer, a voice came from behind her.

“Here I am.”

She spun around and there he was.

Damien stood halfway down the staircase, wearing a half-buttoned white shirt that did nothing to hide the abs underneath. His shorts hung low on his hips. A glass of red wine swirled lazily in his hand, like he had all the time in the world.

For a moment, Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. Time hadn't changed him, if anything, he’d only grown more dangerously handsome. But she blinked the thought away quickly.

She smiled, slow and sharp and strutted towards him, hips swaying.

Damien didn’t move. He just stood there, staring, unreadable as always.

Evelyn reached him and placed her palm on his abs, her eyes locked on his.

“Hello, husband,” she purred. “Would this still be here by the time I’m done destroying you? What a pity,this good body belongs to cold blooded man, tsk such a waste. Enjoy it while it lasts, darling.”

Damien said nothing. He took another sip of his wine and turned to the man holding her bags. “Take them to the room prepared for her.”

“Yes, sir,” the man replied.

But Evelyn raised a hand. “No. Those bags are going into his room,” she said, dragging her finger lightly down Damien’s jawline. “Or would you like to argue that, darling?”

The guard hesitated, looking at Damien.

Damien gave a small nod. “As she wishes.”

Evelyn smirked and stepped away, heading deeper into the mansion.

“You know if you had pretended to be this good back then,” she said without looking back, “you wouldn’t have done what you did five years ago.”

Damien watched her retreating figure and took another slow sip of his wine, eyes dark, lips unreadable.

___

Damien was still seated in the living room, his fingers gently circling the rim of his glass, when Colt stepped inside.

“Should Blake return or stay where he is?” Colt asked, his voice low.

Damien didn’t respond immediately. His eyes were fixed on the hallway Eve had just disappeared into.

“Let him remain where he is,” Damien finally said. “She’s not safe.”

Colt blinked. “Boss, you mean...”

“Not here,” Damien cut him off without turning his head.

Colt nodded slowly. “The news is taking a negative toll on the company. The board is demanding you address it. Should I prepare a press conference...?”

“No,” Damien said sharply, sipping from his glass. “Don’t. I’m not clearing anything up.”

“But sir… the company...”

“The company will be fine,” Damien said, a strange, unreadable smile playing on his lips as he glanced once more toward the corridor Eve had gone through.

Colt paused. Something felt different.

For five years, Damien had never missed a day at the office. Yet here he was seated, relaxed, like nothing else mattered.

And the smile… Colt couldn’t even remember the last time he saw his boss smile. Now, the man was sitting there, sipping whiskey, grinning softly while the company was burning.

Something was up.

Colt was still deep in thought when Eve suddenly reappeared this time in a bikini that left little to the imagination. The air shifted. Damien’s gaze moved to her body, then flicked back to Colt.

“You can leave now,” Damien said, setting his glass down.

Colt was already halfway out when Eve giggled and called out, “Where are you going, hot guy? Come play with me.”

Colt froze but didn’t turn back. Damien’s eyes darkened slightly.

“I said you may leave, Colt,” he repeated, his voice firmer.

Without a word, Colt stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

Damien’s jaw clenched as he stared at her.

“You really think this is you now? Parading around like some...”

Eve cut in, venom lacing her voice. “Like some what? Say it.”

His eyes flared, "You’ve changed, Eve," he said, his voice low but edged with heat. "What happened to the Eve I used to know?"

She laughed. But it wasn’t sweet, it was bitter, sharp, like glass shattering under pressure. “Oh please, spare me the sermon. What do you care about who I’ve become? You don’t recognize me? That’s rich. Tell me, Damien, did you ever know me at all?”

He stepped closer. “I knew you better than anyone...”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand, eyes flashing. “You knew nothing but the version of me you wanted to control. You stripped me of everything and left me to rot. Did you even care what happened after I walked out that door five years ago?”

"I do care!" he snapped.

"Don't you dare!" she cut him off, her eyes blazing now. "You don’t get to stand here and act like you know me. Not anymore."

"You used to be..."

"Used to be what, Damien? Sweet? Weak? Silent? Is that what you liked? A woman you could walk all over like you did five years ago?"

Damien’s jaw clenched.

"You don’t know what you’re saying..."

“You think I don’t have questions?” he hissed. “You think I don’t deserve answers after what you...”

“Deserve?” she snapped, stepping closer, her tone icy. “Don’t talk to me about deserve. Where was this fire five years ago when you left me to rot in the mess you made?”

“You left,” he muttered.

“Because you ruined me!” Her voice rose, fury breaking through every word. “You broke everything inside me and acted like it was normal. Like I was supposed to smile and thank you.”

He didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

Her voice lowered, colder than before. “Do you even know what I became after I left? After everything you did? Or were you too busy climbing your empire on broken bones and forgotten promises?”

His jaw tensed. “I didn’t...”

"No," she snapped, eyes glinting with something darker than rage.

"You didn’t know what you did. And that’s the part that still haunts me. You walked away clean and guiltless. While I…"

She took a shaky breath, then straightened her shoulders.

"I had to learn how to live with the pieces you left behind."

She stepped even closer, close enough to feel his breath. “But look who’s back now, Damien. And guess what? I’m not here for love. I’m not here to catch up. I came back for one reason only and you’re standing right in the middle of it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

She pulled something from her bag and tossed it onto the table, the contract he’d signed. “Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t read it, did you? Typical Damien. Always signing away lives like they’re nothing.”

His eyes dropped to the paper, a flicker of confusion crossing his face.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, leaning in with venom in her voice. “Read the clauses. The part you missed because you thought you were too powerful to bother with the fine print.”

She paused, eyes burning into him.

"But this time, Damien... I wrote the rules. And you just signed your soul to the devil you made."