He led her to that same place he had told her to avoid.
On one wall was a giant picture of a man who looked just like Damian—his father.
There were photos of them fishing, laughing, riding horses, even baking cookies in the kitchen.
Elena's lips parted slightly. She had never imagined this.
"Damian… is this your dad?"
He stood behind her, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion.
"Yeah. That's him."
She turned to look at him. His face was hard, but his eyes told another story—one full of pain and longing.
"Leonid killed him," he said flatly, his jaw tightening.
Her heart dropped. "Is that why..?"
He nodded once.
"Yes. And I'm still angry he's alive. After everything… he still gets to breathe."
Before she could respond, he stepped closer, wrapping his arms gently around her waist from behind.
His chin rested lightly on her shoulder as he looked at the pictures in front of them.
"We used to come here," he said softly pointing at a picture.
"He'd bring me to this rooftop, tell me stories about his dreams, teach me how to fight, how to run a company…
"He used to take me fishing every Sunday," Damian said quietly, his voice shaking just a little.
"We'd stay out till night. I'd fall asleep in his arms on the way home."
Elena felt her chest ache.
And then one day, I found him lying in blood. I was just a kid, hiding in a wardrobe. I couldn't even scream."
"I cried all night," he continued, his voice rough. "My mother cried too. And I couldn't do anything."
Elena placed her hand on his arm gently. Her throat was tight.
She turned slightly to look up at the photo of his father.
"Hi, Damian's dad," she said softly, almost whispering.
"I'm Elena… and you have a cute, tough guy as a son."
Damian let out a small breath that almost sounded like a quiet laugh. But it faded quickly.
There was a long silence.
She turned around to face him fully, their eyes meeting.
"Damian," she said quietly, "please… let me see my aunt."
His expression shifted instantly.
His arms loosened around her. He stepped back slowly, the warmth from him fading.
His jaw tightened, his face turning cold again.
"Didn't I say," he said in that icy, sharp tone she hated, "that I never want to talk about that?"
She froze where she stood.
Damian's eyes were no longer soft—they were hard, distant. He turned and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
Elena stood there alone, staring at the photo of his father, feeling her heart ache—for Damian, and for the broken boy still trapped inside him.
***
Damian stormed down the stairs, his jaw tight.
Just then, one of his men appeared by the doorway, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
He bowed quickly, eyes down, voice trembling.
"Sir… your grandfather sent for you. He said it's urgent."
Damian ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.
"Of course he did," he muttered under his breath, annoyed and tired.
He didn't even look at the man as he walked past him, the sound of his shoes fading as he disappeared toward the door.
***
Maria was pacing in her room.
She had been walking from one end of the room to another for the past twenty minutes, already bored out of her mind.
The silence was driving her insane. Finally, she decided to go out and breathe fresh air.
When she stepped outside, two security men were standing near the gate.
She walked up to them, her heels clicking softly on the stone.
"Can you take me somewhere?" she asked with a small smile.
The taller guard shook his head immediately.
"Sorry, ma'am. We have orders not to let you leave the premises."
Maria sighed, pouting a little.
"Please," she said softly. "I'll be quick. I just need to get some air, maybe pick up a few things."
The guard hesitated, glancing at his partner. After a moment, he sighed.
"Fine, ma'am. But make it fast."
She smiled brightly. "Thank you."
They walked to one of the SUVs. The driver opened the door for her and got in.
"Where to, ma'am?" he asked.
Maria looked out the window, her mind already drifting.
"Take me to 12 Creek Street," she said after a moment."
---
When they arrived, Maria's heart raced as she looked at the old neighborhood.
Nothing much had changed.
She got out, walking quickly to the familiar gate.
The landlord, opened the door, his eyes widening when he saw her.
"You… you shouldn't be here," he said in surprise.
"I'm looking for my niece," she said quickly. "Elena". Do you know where she went?"
The landlord frowned.
"She left here months ago," he said, his tone firm. You should leave, madam."
Maria froze. Her chest tightened.
"She left?" she whispered, almost to herself.
The landlord nodded and shut the door slowly, leaving her standing there.
She blinked hard, fighting the sting in her eyes, and turned back toward the car.
When she got in, the driver looked at her through the mirror.
"Where now, ma'am?"
Maria forced a small smile. "Take me to the nearest supermarket. I just need to clear my head."
The car pulled up in front of a large supermarket.
Maria got down, adjusting her coat.
She grabbed a basket and started walking through the aisles, picking random items—water, snacks, anything to distract her thoughts.
As she turned around a corner, her basket slipped slightly from her hand. She bumped into someone, and the items tumbled to the floor.
"I'm so sorry," she said quickly, bending down to pick them up. But when she looked up—
Her breath caught.
The man standing in front of her was someone she never thought she'd see again.
His hair was shorter now, his face a little older, but those eyes… she remembered them too well.
He looked just as stunned. "Maria?" he said, his voice low, almost disbelieving.
She blinked, her fingers tightening around the basket. "Diego?" she whispered.