The note lay on my palm like a whisper, light but dangerous.
"Ask him about the first deal. — G."
I reread the handwriting, elegant and sharp, each letter shaped like a smirk Graham would wear. A chill worked its way up her spine. The studio was silent except for the faint hum of the city outside, but i felt watched — as if the walls themselves had eyes.
First deal. So they are many others.
The words pulsed in my mind.
I slipped the note into my sketchbook, burying it beneath pages of incomplete drawings. As if hiding the message could muffle the unease curling inside me.
Downstairs, I heard Damien's footsteps — steady, controlled, too calm for the storm i felt building inside. I waited until they faded before stepping into the hallway.
The air between them felt colder than any argument.
Colder than any truth.
And for the first time since entering the mansion, I realized something frightening:
Distance wasn't created by walls.
It was created by secrets.
I begin thinking
What first deal?
How does Graham know what i found?
Has someone be watching me?
This note feels like the beginning of something she isn't ready for.
I walked into my room and decided to get some rest.
—
Morning light fills the penthouse kitchen, but the air is cold. I stood up stretching with a yawn and holding my head at the same time, my eyes where clearer and my head light. No aches all thanks to the aspirin I took before sleeping.
In as much as I hate to agree that there'll be no troubles today they sure will be maybe a lot this time. I am already tired of the headache and swollen eyes today has for me.
I came out and Damien is already there, reading the news, coffee untouched.
I enter quietly. Our eyes meet for a second — then both look away.
A soft but suffocating silence settles between them.
He tries to speak: "About last night…"
But i cut him off gently. "We don't have to talk."
Damien's jaw tightens. He isn't used to being shut out — especially not by me.
He asks if i slept well. I lie. "Fine."
He nods, but his knuckles whiten around the mug.Damien finally says, "If Graham contacted you… you tell me immediately."
I didn't answer.
I spent the whole day avoiding him, slipping into rooms right after he leaves, taking my meals upstairs and all
—
I think it's better that way since he's refusing to tell the truth no need for any talk. Because somehow they won't be true.
I feel him watching me sometimes, a presence at the corner of my vision, but i keep a careful distance.
My thoughts where in war:
Did Damien manipulate my father?
Is Graham lying?
Am I just a pawn between brothers?
I try painting to quiet my mind but it didn't work, every stroke came out wrongly— either it's too thick or too thin. Huh!! This is exhausting i whispered, My whisper and a knock happened the same time and I paused.
Damien, I murmured. He knocked again and I kept quiet.
"Eva…talk to me" He called out.
I stands up silently in the other side, not opening.
After a long pause his footsteps fade. He was gone
I stayed at same position for some minutes arms crossed and whispered i don't even know who to trust anymore.
.....
Since my brush refuse to paint today maybe I might just go back to what my brains drifts to every time.
I Went back to the documents, spread them across my desk. The strange memo — "Final payment due upon the girl's consent to the contract".Burns in my mind.
Now paired with Graham's note — Ask him about the first deal — i see a connection.
I traces the dates. Something doesn't add up.The first deal happened before my father's collapse. Before my mother died.
And the buyer wasn't Blackwell Industries…
It was Blackwell & Hale Capital.
Hale — the name my father whispered fearfully in earlier
I circle the name, with hands trembling.
Then I realize Graham isn't warning me. He's baiting me.
Damien's pov;
I sit alone in my office, staring at a closed laptop i haven't touched in an hour.
My thoughts drift to the look on Eva's face last night: fear? disappointment? betrayal?
I told Silas, "Give her space."
Silas answers quietly, "Sir… space might not be what she needs."
I dismiss him, but the words sting.
I stands at the balcony later, watching the city and murmurs softly:
"I never wanted it to be like this."
But I didn't go to her, she was still very angry at me so I decided to stay away for some time and right now I am not of the right words to use that wouldn't get her more upset and worsen everything. I am trying my hardest to calm things and make her see form what it really is but she isn't, she's turning a blind eye to everything I have to say. I know it would be selfish for me to say she should rethink everything without her emotions but the truth is looking it from a logical angle it isn't that deep.
Oh my Damien, Hope you aren't planning on telling her that, she'll crash out so bad and you'll regret again. I caution myself.
I take out a key from my pocket — small, old, brass.
The key to the first deal.
Night falls. The mansion feels colder, larger, emptier.
I walks down the hallway at the same moment Damien walks up it.
we pause — close enough to touch, far enough to feel miles apart.
He whispers, "If I hurt you… it wasn't intentional."
I answers, "I don't think you know what hurts me."
we pass each other without another word.
Back in my studio, I finds a second note hidden under the folder — and I am certain it wasn't there before.
It reads:
"Ask him what happened to Hale."
My breath catches.
Someone was in my room.