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92 The Unforeseen Gift and a Resolute Promise
92 The Unforeseen Gift and a Resolute Promise
The bedroom door opened, and Damien walked in, a glass of water in hand. He stopped when he saw me with the folder. *
He nodded. “I had some paperwork to finalize”
“Damien,” I began, trying to gather my thoughts. “Thank you, but this isn’t what I asked for. I wanted to buy the other villa, not receive one as a gift. And certainly not one this valuable.”
Eleanor beamed when she saw us walking through the door together. Her eyes sparkled with hope, clearly pleased to see Damien and me arriving home at the same
time.
“Yes.”
“Don’t work too hard, dear,” Eleanor patted my arm. “You always push yourself too
much.”
The house was quiet as I made my way upstairs. Eleanor had likely retired for the evening, and the staff moved silently through their evening routines.
Damien nodded and returned to his reading. I slipped into the bathroom to change and prepare for bed. When I emerged, he was still reading, the blue light from his tablet illuminating his face.
By the time I left the office, it was after nine. The drive to the Thorne estate gave me time to decompress, mentally shifting from work mode to the careful neutrality I maintained around Damien.
When I arrived, I was surprised to see Damien’s car already in the garage. He rarely came home before ten, often much later. I wondered if Vivienne was busy tonight.
I nodded and moved to my dresser, gathering my nightclothes. The atmosphere between us had shifted subtly since our conversation in the car. Not warmer exactly, but less frigid. His help with/Alistair and his agreement about the villa had cracked something in the wall between us.
“It makes no sense to take separate cars when you’re going to the same area of the city,” she insisted.
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92 The Unforeseen Gift and a Resolute Promise
When I entered our bedroom, Damien was already there, sitting up against the
headboard, reading something on his tablet. The soft lamplight cast shadows across his sharp features, reminding me of earlier days when I would watch him work late into the night, admiring his focus.
“Sorry,” I said awkwardly. “I didn’t expect you to be here yet.”
“Well, perhaps tomorrow then,” Eleanor said, undeterred.
But I couldn’t let myself read too much into it. Seven years of marriage had taught me that pattern. A moment of kindness followed by weeks of indifference. This time would be no different. Our marriage was ending, and these small courtesies were just the civilized death throes of a relationship that had never truly lived.
I held up the folder. “Is this what you were finalizing?”
“Everything okay with work?” he asked, breaking the silence.
It was such a small gesture, yet it lingered in my mind as I lay there. When was the last time Damien had done something so simple for me? I couldn’t remember. Perhaps it meant nothing. Perhaps it was just convenience since he was already putting his tablet
down.
The day rushed by in a flurry of meetings and development reviews. Julian and I were working against tight deadlines for our newest AI application, and I lost track of time. By the time I checked my watch, it was nearly eight in the evening.
“You’re home early,” I said, my voice oddly strained.
Julian shook his head. “Always the perfectionist. Don’t stay too late.”
“It’s too much,” I said firmly. “I don’t have this much money right now. Give me some time, and I will-”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid I need to decline, Eleanor. I still have work calls to make.”
“Just a little longer,” I replied, typing furiously. “I want to finish this segment before I
leave.”
The next morning at breakfast, Eleanor suggested that Damien drive me to work again.
“No need to worry, Grandmother,” Damien said, his voice level. “Traffic was heavier
than usual.”
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92 The Untorissen Caift and a Resolute Promise
It wasn’t entirely true, but I needed space. Damien’s help with Alistair and the villa
were debts I didn’t want to accumulate. Each kindness from him complicated the clean break I was trying to make.
“Yes,” I replied, surprised by his question. “Just finalizing details with a potential
investor.”
I slid into my side of the bed, careful to maintain the invisible boundary that had existed between us for years. The mattress dipped slightly under my weight, but Damien didn’t look up.
“Goodnight,” I said softly, reaching for my lamp.
And it was in my name. Not Damien’s. Not the Thorne family’s. Mine alone.
I excused myself and headed upstairs to my room. The calls I mentioned weren’t a complete fabrication. Julian had texted about a potential investor wanting to speak tonight. After two lengthy calls discussing YodaVision’s growth projections, I finally
finished around eleven.
I turned on my side, facing away from him, and closed my eyes. Sleep came surprisingly quickly.
I opened the bedroom door and stepped inside, expecting to find Damien working on his laptop as usual. Instead, the room was empty, but something on my makeup table caught my eye.
Elara’s POV
Damien glanced up. “I finished early tonight.”
The fact that he remembered my desire for a studio space caught me by surprise. I’d mentioned it years ago, in passing, when we’d first toured coastal properties. He had seemed disinterested then.
“You should head home,” Julian said, stretching his arms overhead. “We’ve made good progress today.”
“This one is better suited for you,” he said simply. “It has the studio space you always wanted, and it’s closer to your father.”
“I’ll get it,” he said, setting his tablet aside. He leaned across and switched off my lamp before turning off his own, plunging the room into darkness.
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92 The Unloveenen Gill and a fresh fryers
I smiled politely but shook my head. “I have a client meeting across town first thing, so it’s more practical for me to drive myself.”
A folder lay there, placed deliberately in the center. I set down my bag and approached cautiously. Opening the folder, I found property documents inside – a deed for a coastal villa. Not the one we had discussed last night, but a different one, more secluded and even more beautiful. Located just a short drive from Victor’s home.
My breath caught as I studied the papers. The villa was easily worth several million dollars. Why would Damien-
Damien watched this exchange silently over his coffee cup, his face unreadable as usual.
The disappointment on Eleanor’s face was evident, but I couldn’t bear sitting through another meal pretending everything was fine. Damien’s unexpected kindness about the villa had left me feeling off–balance.
Eleanor looked between us, searching for signs of reconciliation. “You both must be famished. I’ve had dinner kept warm.”
“Besides,” I added, “Damien has his own schedule to keep.”
“There you are, my dears!” She clapped her hands together. “I was beginning to worry.”
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