The air in the penthouse was still, heavy with revelation.
Lena sat on the edge of the bed, the documents Damien had given her trembling in her hands. Her father Paul Whitaker was alive. Sentenced to fifteen years in a maximum-security prison for fraud, embezzlement, and multiple counts of financial deception. The date of sentencing was from four years ago.
She had believed him dead. Her mother never said otherwise. Her entire life, Lena had lived with the shame of abandonment. Now, that shame had a name, a file, and the potential to ruin her all over again.
Damien crouched in front of her. "Did you know any of this?"
"No," she whispered, voice raw. "My mother told me he disappeared. She never said he'd been arrested. She always made it sound like... like he walked away."
"She was trying to protect you."
Lena looked into his eyes. "From the truth. From this."
He gently took the folder from her and closed it. "It doesn't matter what he did. You're not responsible for his crimes."
"You don't understand," she said, getting to her feet. "This will be in the news next. Your father will leak it. The board will say I was using you from the start. That I married you to clear my name, to restore my reputation."
"Let them talk," Damien said firmly. "I know the truth. That's all that matters."
She turned away. "It's not enough."
Damien stepped closer. "Then we make it enough. You're not alone in this, Lena."
The sincerity in his voice wrapped around her like a lifeline. And for a moment, she let herself believe it.
The Next Morning Blackwood Enterprises
Tessa walked briskly into Damien's office with her tablet in hand.
"You need to see this."
Damien took the tablet and glanced at the screen. A new article had just gone live.
"Blackwood CEO's Wife Linked to Imprisoned Con Artist: Is the Marriage Built on Lies?"
Underneath, photos of Lena were splashed across the page her at charity events, at the gala, beside Damien, smiling. And next to them, a mugshot of Paul Whitaker.
Damien's expression darkened. "That was fast."
"They're trying to destroy her," Tessa said quietly. "And by extension, you."
He handed the tablet back. "Get legal on the phone. We're suing for defamation. And get me every journalist who touched this story."
Tessa paused. "And Lena?"
"I'll handle her."
Later That Day Lena's Apartment
Lena sat at her old apartment, seeking refuge in the familiarity of cracked walls and worn-out furniture. She hadn't been here in weeks, but now it felt like the only place where she could breathe.
A soft knock at the door startled her.
She opened it slowly only to find Damien standing there, coat dusted with spring rain, eyes fixed on her like she was the only thing anchoring him to the earth.
"You shouldn't be here," she said softly.
He stepped in anyway. "Neither should you."
"I needed space."
"And I need you to come back."
She didn't answer, turning her gaze away.
Damien stepped closer, hands in his coat pockets. "You think hiding will make this go away?"
"No," she whispered. "But I don't want to drag you down with me."
He let out a short breath. "You're not dragging me down. You're the only reason I haven't drowned."
Lena's heart clenched. "But your reputation—"
"Means nothing," he cut in. "Not if it costs me you."
She looked up at him then, finally meeting his eyes. "What if we can't win this?"
"Then we fight anyway."
And then, to her surprise, he pulled something from his pocket. A simple, elegant ring this time not the contract ring, not a symbol of their arrangement. This one was different. Real.
Her breath caught.
"I bought this last week," he said. "I didn't know when or how, but I knew I'd need it. I knew I wanted you to have something real. Not because of a contract. Not because of a threat. Just… because I love you."
Lena's heart stopped. "You what?"
"I love you, Lena."
For the first time in her life, the girl who had been abandoned, lied to, and forced to survive… believed someone meant it.
She stepped forward, tears in her eyes. "Say it again."
He took her hands. "I love you."
And this time, when he kissed her, it wasn't out of desperation or escape.
It was a beginning.
Meanwhile Blackwood Mansion
Harold watched the news report in silence.
His assistant stood nearby, unsure whether to speak.
"They're digging in," she said finally. "Should we move forward with the next step?"
Harold's expression remained unreadable. "Let them think they're winning. The real test is coming."
He looked down at a file labeled: "Paul Whitaker Prison Transfer Request."
And beneath that: "Approved."