Shadows Of The Past
Sunlight filtered through the high windows of the Thorne estate, gilding the marble floors and casting a glow over the lavish interior. Talia had spent most of the morning in her room, uncertain of her place in the vast mansion. Every footstep echoed too silent, too dismissive.
She hadn't seen Damon since the night before. Their exchange had been brief, cold-no more than a few words about the contract and the terms she was now living under. A cage wrapped in gold, she thought bitterly.
But today, something felt different.
Laughter echoed faintly through the hallway. A woman's voice- smooth, lilting, far too familiar.
Curious, Talia stepped out of her room and followed the sound.
She stopped when she reached the living room.
There, seated comfortably on the cream leather couch, was Valeria Sinclair. Long-legged, elegant, dressed in tailored designer wear with a laugh that filled the room like music. Damon was beside her, leaning back casually, a small smirk playing on his lips as they spoke.
Talia's stomach sank.
Valeria- the woman Damon was supposed to marry. The woman everyone believed he should have married.
"I missed this couch," Valeria said with a smile, her fingers brushing the soft leather. "It still remembers me, I'm sure."
Damon chuckled. "You're as dramatic as ever."
Valeria leaned closer. "You didn't forget me though, did you?"
"I don't forget things easily," Damon replied, his voice low.
Talia stood frozen, her chest tight. She hadn't planned to eavesdrop. She had only wanted something to eat. Her stomach grumbled in quiet protest, reminding her she hadn't had a proper breakfast.
Just as she turned to walk away, Valeria's voice rang out.
"Well, look who's here."
Talia turned back slowly.
Valeria's gaze swept over her with cool amusement. "You must be hungry. Perfect timing. Damon and I were just talking about lunch." She stood up and smiled sweetly. "Be a dear and make us something, will you? Damon likes his pasta spicy. You should remember that."
Talia blinked. "There are maids for that."
Valeria's smile faded replaced by something colder. "So you're too proud now? You married into this house just yesterday. Don't start acting like you belong already."
Talia's jaw clenched. "I'm his wife, not a maid."
Valeria's face darkened. "What did you say?"
"I said- "
The sound of the slap echoed before the sting reached her skin. Valeria's hand dropped back to her side like nothing had happened.
Talia staggered slightly, shocked, but recovered quickly. Her eyes flared, a sharp breath hissing between her teeth.
Her hand lifted instinctively-
But before she could react, Damon was on his feet.
"Stop." His voice cut through the room like ice.
He stepped between them, his body blocking Valeria from view as he turned to Talia.
"Don't touch her."
Talia's lips parted in disbelief. "She hit me."
"She's my guest. And you-" His eyes narrowed. "Go make lunch. Now."
The maids were silent, unmoving, pretending not to have witnessed the scene.
Talia's hands curled into fists at her sides, but she said nothing more. Her cheek still throbbed, but it was the hollow betrayal in Damon's eyes that cut deeper.
She turned and walked away.
In the kitchen, the lights flickered to life.
The space was too polished, too pristine.
Her fingers moved mechanically, pulling ingredients from the shelves. Tomatoes, garlic, chili flakes- anything to make the spicy pasta he liked so much.
The knife hit the cutting board with steady rhythm.
Chop. Chop. Chop.
Her thoughts, louder than the blade.
You let her slap me.
You defended her.
You humiliated me.
Steam began to rise from the pot. The scent of garlic filled the air. Still, her mind spun.
She stirred the sauce, added the seasoning, and tasted it. Perfect. Too perfect.
She reached for a second pot. Her fingers tapped against the marble counter as an idea unfurled in her mind. She wasn't sure if it was anger or something darker that stirred her.
A small smile touched her lips.
Let Damon and Valeria enjoy their meal.