Sleep didn't come for Diana.
Even with the connecting door between her and Damien locked tight, her mind kept circling the same thought—
If you ever meet Rhys…
Damien's words looped in her head, heavy with warning.
They felt less like protection and more like a curse.
By morning, she was no closer to understanding him.
But by nightfall… she would be closer to Rhys.
---
The opportunity came without her asking for it.
She was in the library, pretending to read a book she hadn't turned a page of in fifteen minutes, when Claiborne slipped inside.
"Don't react," he murmured, moving past her to arrange some files on a shelf.
Her pulse spiked. "What—?"
"There's someone you need to see," he said under his breath. "No one can know I told you."
She almost asked why, but Claiborne's hand tightened briefly on her arm—a silent warning—and then he walked out without another word.
Two hours later, she followed the path he'd indicated in the folded scrap of paper he'd left behind.
It led her to a part of the estate she'd never seen before—beneath the eastern wing, where the air was cooler and the walls were old stone instead of marble.
The corridor ended at a steel door.
No guards. No cameras she could see.
Her skin prickled.
She pushed it open.
---
The room was dim, lit only by a single hanging bulb.
And in the center… a man sat chained to a chair.
He lifted his head when she stepped inside.
Same eyes. Same jaw. Same blood.
Rhys.
"Diana," he said, like he'd been expecting her.
She froze. "How do you know my name?"
He smiled, slow and tired. "Because my brother talks about you. More than he realizes."
Her chest tightened. "You're alive."
"Alive," Rhys said, the word curling into something bitter, "is one way to put it."
He shifted, the chain at his wrist clinking. "Surviving is another."
She took a cautious step forward. "Damien said not to believe you."
That made him laugh—quiet and sharp. "Of course he did. And I suppose he didn't tell you why I disappeared?"
"He said… you chose someone over him."
Rhys's eyes darkened. "I chose to stop him. Before he became what he is now."
The air between them tightened. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Rhys said, leaning forward until the chain pulled taut, "that your precious billionaire devil is not just dangerous. He's a murderer, Diana. And the only reason I'm breathing is because he wants me to watch him ruin you."
Her stomach twisted. "You're lying."
"Am I?" Rhys tilted his head. "Or are you just too far under his spell to see it?"
She took a step back.
Rhys's voice followed her, low and insistent.
"He's already breaking you. I can see it in your eyes. You think you can fix him—but you can't. You'll only burn with him."
---
Diana didn't realize she was shaking until the steel door closed behind her.
Her mind was a storm—Damien's warning, Rhys's words, the undeniable truth that now she'd seen him… she couldn't unsee.
And somewhere in the mansion above, Damien would know she'd been here.
She could feel it.
---
That night, when she returned to her room, he was already there.
Waiting.
He didn't ask if she'd gone to see Rhys.
He didn't need to.
"You went," he said, his tone calm in a way that made her blood run cold.
She didn't deny it. "I had to know."
His eyes searched hers for a long, dangerous moment.
"Then tell me, Diana," he said softly. "Whose side are you on now?"