Page 75

I shoved my phone into my pocket, the anger boiling over like a pot left too long on the stove. I stalked down the hallway, each step fueled by a mix of fury and desperation. I had to confront her—the one person I never wanted to face again.

My mother was in the parlor, that pristine space that always felt cold and unwelcoming, filled with the smell of expensive wine and polished furniture. There she sat, casually sipping from a glass as if she hadn’t just thrown my world into chaos. The moment our eyes met, her lips curled into a knowing smile, a twisted victory that made my blood boil.

“I was wondering when you’d come storming in,”she said, her tone dripping with feigned sweetness.

I didn’t slow. I didn’t hesitate. My fingers twitched at my sides, itching to destroy something—anything—to relieve the pressure building inside me.

“What did you say to her?”The words burst out, sharper than I intended.

Her smile widened as if relishing this moment.“Oh, you know how these things go. Just a little chat about your past.”

The room felt like it was closing in around me.“What did you tell her? That I’m broken? That I’ll ruin everything?”

She tilted her head slightly, that predator gaze locking onto mine with amusement dancing in her eyes. “I simply reminded Holly that some things can’t be undone. That relationships like yours tend to leave scars.”

Every word dripped with poison. I felt the heat rising in my chest—a volcanic rage threatening to erupt. “You think this is some kind of game? You think you can control who gets close to me?”

She took another sip of wine, completely unfazed by my anger. “Control is exactly what’s needed here, Damien. You need to focus on what matters—your future.”

I stepped closer, every instinct screaming for me to put distance between us and yet drawn forward by an unseen force—one that demanded confrontation. “My future? Or yours?”

The silence stretched between us like a taut wire ready to snap at any moment as her smirk faded just enough for me to catch a glimpse of vulnerability hidden behind her mask. But it didn’t matter; all I could see was red as I confronted the very source of the chaos swirling in my life—and Holly’s fate hung in the balance.

His mother sighed dramatically, setting her glass down with a clink that echoed through the cold parlor.

“Holly deserves the truth, Damien. If you weren’t such a coward, you’d tell her yourself.”

Her words slashed through me like a blade. I felt my vision blur with red, anger surging as she leaned back, that sickening smirk still plastered across her face. She thrived on this chaos; it fed her twisted sense of power.

“You don’t get to touch her. You don’t get to speak her fucking name.” My voice came out razor-sharp, every syllable laced with fury.

She leaned forward slightly, unfazed by my aggression. “She was always going to leave you again. You know that, don’t you?”

Something inside me snapped at her words, that insufferable confidence dripping from her lips igniting an inferno in my chest.

I lunged.

In one swift motion, I closed the distance between us, fingers grasping at the collar of her tailored blouse. I could feel the rush of adrenaline as my grip tightened around the fabric—my breath coming fast and heavy as I forced myself to focus on her eyes, those cold, calculating eyes that had always seemed to enjoy my pain.

Her smirk faded for a split second as surprise flickered across her face before she regained composure. “You think this is going to change anything? You think violence will fix what’s broken?”

I pulled her closer, almost reveling in the way she flinched beneath my grip. “You have no idea what you’re playing with,” I hissed, letting every ounce of anger spill into those words. “You don’t know how far I’ll go.”

For once, there was uncertainty in her gaze—a crack in that flawless facade. But it didn’t last long; she quickly masked it with disdain.

“Protect? Or destroy?”

I released my hold on her collar and stepped back, rage boiling over into something more dangerous—a mix of confusion and desperation. I couldn’t let Holly slip away again because of this woman’s games. The realization gnawed at me: I had already lost so much before; I couldn’t bear to watch it happen again.

But I knew then—I had to confront my mother’s poison head-on if I wanted any chance at keeping Holly safe from this hellscape she tried to control.

My hands itched to wrap around my mother’s throat, to silence her venomous words once and for all.

“Honestly, Damien,” she continued, a cruel smile dancing on her lips, “do you really think Holly could handle you? She was never strong enough to deal with the mess you are. It’s only a matter of time before she runs again and spreads her legs for someone else like the whore she is.”

Before I could think, before I could process the weight of her words, I lunged forward. Rage coursed through my veins like fire, and all I wanted was to erase that sickening smirk from her face.

But just as my hands reached for her, something slammed into me—a force stronger and heavier than I expected. I barely registered the impact before I found myself pinned against the wall.