Chapter 4 The woman in the Glass

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CHAPTER FOUR

The Woman in the Glass

The rain had stopped by morning, but the mist lingered-low and white, crawling between the hedgerows like secrets. The villa felt suspended in time, like it was no longer part of the living world but a memory, half-forgotten.

Mia sat by the library window, cradling a porcelain teacup, the faint taste of chamomile settling on her tongue. Her sketchbook lay open across her lap. She hadn't drawn the child again. Not since the heartbeat.

She was afraid to.

Because every stroke of charcoal felt like possession. Like attachment.

The contract had made one thing clear: no emotional involvement. She had laughed at the wording then, thinking love was a switch you could flick off. But now? With every glance, every heartbeat, every glance from Damian that lingered just a second too long-she was unraveling.

And she didn't know how to stop.

The door creaked open.

Elena.

She was wrapped in a slate blue robe, her face bare, hair slightly tousled-almost human. Almost... real.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said, walking in.

"Not at all," Mia replied, sitting up.

Elena crossed to the windows, her reflection merging with the cloudy glass. She didn't look at Mia as she said, "I never thought I'd be this woman."

Mia tilted her head. "What woman?"

"The kind who needs another to do the one thing she was supposed to do herself."

Her voice didn't tremble, but her hands tightened around the silk belt at her waist.

"Elena... this isn't weakness. It's courage."

Elena turned. "Don't say that. Please. You're kind, but I'm not brave. I'm bitter. I'm afraid. And I'm ashamed that when I look at you, I feel... threatened."

The words fell between them like stones into deep water.

Mia set down her cup. "I'm not trying to take anything from you."

"I know." Elena's voice cracked for the first time. "But you already are."

They stood in silence, the rawness settling between them.

Then Elena crossed the room and sat across from her, folding her hands.

"Did Damian tell you about the miscarriage?"

Mia shook her head.

"It was two years ago. I was almost six months along. A boy." Elena's eyes clouded. "We named him Felix, even though he never took a breath."

Mia's hand instinctively moved to her own belly.

Elena's gaze followed the motion. "When we lost him... we lost each other, too. Damian built walls. I built blame. And here we are-putting you in the middle of it."

"You didn't," Mia said gently. "I chose to be here."

"But you didn't choose this," Elena said. "This tension. This mess. Damian's silence. My coldness. It's not fair to you."

Mia hesitated. "Sometimes... I think I see who he used to be."

Elena looked at her sharply.

"Not because I want him," Mia added quickly. "But because I wonder if that part of him is what you miss."

Elena's face softened. "You're insightful. That's dangerous."

"I don't mean to be."

Elena stood, adjusting her robe. "I'll be away for a few days. Paris. There's a foundation gala. I thought I should be seen."

Mia nodded. "Safe travels."

As Elena reached the doorway, she paused. "Whatever happens, Mia... don't lose yourself in this house. It has a way of swallowing women whole."

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That Night

Mia couldn't sleep. The villa was too quiet without Elena's late-night piano or the soft hum of staff moving through the halls.

At midnight, she wandered.

Down the velvet-carpeted stairs, past portraits of stoic Voss ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow her. She ended up at the indoor pool-damned thing looked like a Roman bath, all stone and steam and columns.

But what startled her was not the grandeur.

It was Damian.

He was swimming. Alone. Unaware.

The light from the water danced across his back, taut and scarred in a way that suggested not accidents-but old punishments. A past that hadn't been gentle.

He reached the edge and turned.

Saw her.

Mia stepped back. "I'm sorry-I didn't mean-"

"Stay," he said.

So she did.

He pulled himself out of the water, water cascading down his body, his breath steady but thick with something unspoken. He reached for a towel but didn't wrap it around himself-just slung it low around his hips.

"You can't sleep either," he said.

"No."

"Dreams?"

"Memories."

He looked at her. "Yours or someone else's?"

Mia exhaled. "Maybe both."

He stepped closer, water still dripping onto the marble floor. "This... this wasn't how it was supposed to go."

"What wasn't?"

"You. Here. The way I-" He stopped himself. "The way it's starting to feel like we're orbiting something too close."

Mia swallowed. "Are you afraid of what you feel?"

Damian's eyes burned into hers. "I'm afraid of what I'll do because of it."

And in that instant, the air between them charged-lightning just under skin, just behind breath. He reached toward her-hesitated.

Mia took a step back. "Don't."

He froze.

"You said this wasn't supposed to happen. Let's not make it worse."

Damian nodded. Slowly. Like every muscle in his body resisted the retreat.

"I just wanted something that was mine," he murmured.

"You already have that," Mia said softly. "But I am not it."

She turned and left before she could do something she'd regret.

Or something she wouldn't.

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The Next Morning

Lucas waited on the balcony with a breakfast tray.

"Fresh croissants. They bribed the chef at the Montclaire Hotel."

Mia managed a smile. "Is this how billionaires apologize for emotional trauma?"

Lucas chuckled. "No. That's usually a wire transfer. This is just me checking in."

She sat beside him. The sun had broken through the fog at last, gilding the gardens below in warm light.

"I almost kissed him last night," she confessed.

Lucas didn't flinch. "Did he almost kiss you first?"

"Yes."

"Then it's mutual. Which is worse."

Mia sighed. "Elena left for Paris."

Lucas arched a brow. "Convenient."

"Lucas..." She looked at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm starting to think I was brought here for more than just a child."

He didn't answer right away. But when he did, his words chilled her.

"You were."

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