Chapter 39

T hree days of hell.

That’s how long it’s been since I walked out of Wolfe Industries.

Since I left Damien standing there, not even looking back.

Since I shattered into a million pieces and convinced myself I could just sweep them up and move on.

Three days of forcing myself to keep going.

Three days of crying myself to sleep, hating myself for still missing him.

For still loving him.

But today is the end of it.

This morning, I told Lucian I was done—done with The Ledger, done with Damien, done with all of it.

He didn’t argue, just told me my bonus was still being paid in full.

A part of me wanted to tell him to take that ten million dollars and shove it straight up Damien’s perfect, arrogant ass.

But I didn’t. Because I need it.

I need it to start over. To finally build the life I’ve worked so goddamn hard for.

So I do what I have to do.

I step out of my apartment and into one of The Ledger’s town cars, watching the city blur past the window as I brace myself for one last visit to Lucian’s office—one final step to officially close this chapter of my life.

The driver, Felix, an older man I’ve known for years, glances at me in the mirror, offering a familiar grin.

“We’re gonna miss you, Elena,” he says as he pulls into traffic. “Not many can say they left The Ledger on their own terms.”

I force a small smile, staring out at the streets passing by.

“Yeah… I’ll miss you too. But I’m looking forward to what’s next.”

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Eve texts me the entire way, and I’m glad for it. She takes my mind off things, makes me smile, makes the car ride pass in a blur.

The drive is smooth, with no traffic. But when we slow down, something feels off.

I glance up—expecting to see the sleek, dark building that houses The Ledger’s headquarters.

Instead, my heart plummets, because we’re stopped in front of my bakery.

The one I lost.

I can’t breathe.

My dream is sitting right in front of me, and I have no idea why we’re here.

My fingers tighten around the door handle.

“What is this?” My voice is barely a whisper.

The driver shifts in his seat, looking at me through the mirror. “Lucian says to just hear him out.”

Fucking Lucian. I’m going to kill him.

My stomach twists.

I don’t want to go inside.

I can’t go inside.

But something in me won’t let me walk away either.

I take a slow breath, my heart pounding, and before I can talk myself out of it, I push the door open and step out.

The bell above the door chimes as I step inside.

And I freeze.

The scent of fresh flowers—roses, peonies, lilies, every kind imaginable—hits me all at once, overwhelming and intoxicating.

The entire front of the shop is covered in bouquets, towering arrangements, and delicate clusters of wildflowers spilling across the counters, the display cases, the small seating area I once imagined filling with customers.

It’s ridiculous.

Over-the-top.

So goddamn Damien.

My throat tightens, emotions slamming into me all at once—shock, confusion, anger. But underneath it all, there’s a sliver of something dangerous.

Something stupidly hopeful.

In the center of it all is Damien Wolfe.

Tall. Immaculate. Beautiful in that dark, devastating way that should be illegal.

He stands in the middle of the space, looking every bit the man I spent the last two weeks falling for—but there’s something different in his eyes.

A rawness. A desperation.

Like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump if I tell him to.

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to be steady, cold.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Damien doesn’t move.

For a long second, he just looks at me—really looks at me, like he’s committing every detail to memory.

“I needed to see you.” His voice is hoarse, like it’s been dragged over broken glass.

I exhale sharply, shaking my head.

“You don’t get to do this, Damien.” I gesture around at the ridiculous display of flowers. “You don’t get to show up with grand gestures and expect everything to just—” I choke on the word, my chest tightening. “—fix itself.”

“I know.” His voice is quiet. Earnest.

But I don’t want to hear it.

I don’t want him to apologize, because that means I have to relive it.

The anger. The betrayal. The way he looked at me like I was nothing—like I was exactly what the world had always tried to reduce me to.

I turn toward the door, ready to leave.

“Wait.” His voice catches, and something in it makes me stop. “Just five minutes.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my nails biting into my palms.

I shouldn’t. I really, really shouldn’t.

But the second I stopped heading toward the door, I knew I would stay if he asked me to.

When I turn around, his expression guts me.

Like a man who has already lost but still has one last prayer left to whisper.

“Five minutes,” I say, my voice flat. “And then I walk.”

His chest rises and falls, and he nods once.

“Okay, thank you.”

Damien exhales, running a hand through his hair. For a man who is always so perfectly composed, he looks wrecked.

“Elena,” he starts, voice low, rough, like he’s been choking on this for days. “I was wrong. About everything.”

I lift my chin, crossing my arms over my chest, bracing myself for whatever version of the truth he’s about to feed me.

“You didn’t just call me a liar, Damien.” My voice is steady, but my hands are shaking as I hold myself. “You threw me out. You humiliated me. You—” I exhale sharply, shaking my head. “You didn’t even listen.”

That last part comes out as a whisper, my sorrow threatening to choke me.

“I know.” He steps forward—just the slightest movement, like he wants to reach for me—but I take a step back, my body going rigid before I can stop it.

It’s instinct. Reflex.

But the second I do it, something flickers across his face.

Something that guts him like I just drove a knife straight through his ribs.

He swallows hard, his hands sliding into his pockets, like he’s physically stopping himself from touching me. From closing the distance between us.

“I know,” he says again, his voice quieter now, like the weight of it is crushing him. “And I hate myself for it.”

I shake my head. Firm. Resolute. Even though inside? I’m seconds from shattering.

“I don’t need your self-loathing, Damien,” I whisper.

“Then what do you need?” His voice breaks, his chest rising and falling unsteadily. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me how to?—”

“You can’t.” The words slice through the air like a blade. Final. Absolute.

His jaw locks, like he was bracing for it, but it still hits him hard.

“Don’t say that.”

I can’t do this.

I can’t stand here and listen to him apologize, watch him look at me like he’s drowning and I’m the only thing that can save him.

I need to breathe. I need to get out of this moment before it pulls me under.

So I shift, forcing my focus away from him. Away from the desperate, haunted look in his eyes.

Instead, I gesture around us, my voice sharp.

“Why here, Damien?” I demand. “Why bring me to the one place I lost? The one thing that was taken from me?”

Something changes in his face.

A flicker of something else. Determination. Resolve.

“Because it’s yours, Elena.”

My breath catches.

“No.” I shake my head slowly, not daring to believe what he’s saying. “It’s not. Someone else bought it.”

His gaze holds mine, steady and unyielding.

“No, baby. It’s yours.”

A sharp exhale pushes through my lips.

“How?” My voice is barely above a whisper.

Damien steps closer, his hands still in his pockets, like he’s terrified of making another wrong move.

“Because the second I found out someone took it from you, I bought it back.” His throat works around the words, his voice heavy. Careful. “And now I’m giving it to you.”

My knees almost give out.

I shake my head again, disbelief crashing into me like a tidal wave.

“Why?” The question tears from my throat, raw and vulnerable before I can stop it. “Why would you do this?”

His gaze burns into me, his answer immediate.

“Because I love you.”

My heart fucking stops.

The words hang between us, suspended in the charged air, crashing over me with the force of a goddamn storm.

I can’t move. I can’t breathe.

My heart slams painfully against my ribs, my mind fighting against the truth he just laid bare.

Because if I let myself believe it...

If I let myself feel it...

It’ll destroy what little is left of me.

“Don’t,” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. “Don’t say that.”

His throat works, his jaw clenching like the words are tearing him apart on the way out.

“It’s the truth, Elena.” His voice is gravel and desperation, thick with emotion. “And I should’ve said it sooner.”

I shake my head, teetering on the edge, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.

“You called me a liar.” My voice is soft, but the words cut. “You called me a whore.”

His face contorts with agony, like each syllable is a fresh wound opening inside him.

“I know,” he says, hoarse, wrecked. “I fucking know, Elena. I didn’t believe in you.” His confession is quiet, haunted. “I didn’t protect you. I didn’t listen.” He swallows hard, shaking his head. “And the worst of it?”

A ragged breath shudders from his lungs.

“I abandoned you.”

My whole body goes rigid.

He steps forward—slowly, cautiously—watching me like I might shatter at any second.

“You asked me to listen, and I didn’t.” His voice is low, thick with regret. “You begged me to hear you, and I turned my back on you.” He drags a shaking hand down his face, like he hasn’t slept since that day. “I left you, Elena. I let you down. I did exactly what the rest of the world has done to you your whole fucking life.”

A sharp inhale rips through me, my control cracking, splintering, and I hate him for knowing that. For seeing me so clearly.

For breaking past every wall I’ve tried to hold in place.

“I am so fucking sorry.” His voice catches, and my eyes finally snap open, my breath locking in my throat. “And I love you, Elena.”

He’s wrecked.

His strong frame, usually so unyielding, looks like it’s barely holding together. Like he’s barely keeping himself from falling apart completely.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding.

“And if I have to spend the rest of my life proving it to you, I fucking will.”

The air feels too thick, too heavy, pressing in on me from all sides.

I need to get out of here.

I need to breathe.

“Just take the bakery, Elena.” His voice is gentle, but there’s a raw urgency beneath it. “It’s yours. No strings. No expectations.”

My stomach clenches, a lump forming in my throat.

“You never have to see me again,” he continues, forcing the words out like they’re physically hurting him. “I’ll walk out that door, and if that’s what you want—if that’s what you need—I won’t come back.”

My breath catches, my fingers trembling at my sides.

“But if you give me one more chance,” he says, his voice aching, pleading, “if you let me prove to you that I will never leave you again—I swear to God, Elena, I will fight for you.”

A sob lodges in my throat, my vision blurring.

“I will be there, every single day. Every moment. I will believe in you. I will stand beside you. I will be everything you need me to be.”

He swallows hard, his voice hoarse. “Just don’t shut me out.”

Everything inside me trembles, the world tilting, my control shattering into a thousand fucking pieces.

I’ve spent my whole life surviving.

Building walls.

Keeping people at a distance because when you let them in, they always leave.

But Damien is standing here, giving me a choice.

He’s offering me everything.

His love. His loyalty. His promise.

And I don’t know if I have it in me to walk away.

The space between us feels like a loaded gun.

My chest rises and falls in shallow, unsteady breaths, my body vibrating with the effort to keep standing, to hold on to the last fraying strands of my resolve.

Damien sees it.

Of course he does.

He’s always been able to read me, to know what I’m thinking before I even say it. He knows I’m standing on the edge, that one more push will send me falling.

But he’s not rushing me.

Not pushing.

Not demanding.

Instead, he moves carefully, like I’m something fragile. Breakable.

And fuck him—because I am.

Slowly, deliberately, he closes the distance between us, step by agonizing step, giving me every opportunity to run.

I don’t.

I should.

But my feet don’t move. My body betrays me, rooted in place, my lungs barely pulling in air as he stops just close enough that I can feel his heat.

Not touching. Not yet.

Just waiting.

“You don’t have to say anything.” His voice is quiet, raw, aching with emotion. “You don’t have to forgive me right now. You don’t even have to decide anything tonight.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, my fingers curling into fists, my nails digging into my palms as my entire world tilts beneath me.

“But I need you to know something,” he murmurs, his voice so soft, so reverent, like a confession he’s never said aloud before.

I can’t look at him.

I can’t.

Because if I do, I will break.

I will fucking shatter.

“The first time I saw you,” he breathes, “you weren’t even looking at me.”

A ragged inhale rips through me, my chest burning.

“You were standing at the hostess stand in Ember & Ash,” he continues, his voice dipping into something low, something devastatingly intimate.

My lips part, my breath hitching, my stomach twisting itself into knots.

“And I swear to God, Elena,” his voice breaks, and when I finally force myself to lift my eyes to his, what I see in them—the wrecked, unguarded emotion written all over his face—destroys me.

“I knew right then—right fucking then—that if you weren’t in my world, nothing I built in it would ever mean a goddamn thing.”

The last piece of my resistance shatters into dust.

A choked sob breaks free, my hands shaking, my chest splitting open, and before I can fall?—

Damien catches me.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me flush against him, and I don’t fight it.

I let go. I let go of it all.

And he’s right there to hold me together.

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