Chapter 9 The First Shatter

They said power came from silence.

But sometimes power came from the sound of something breaking.

Something expensive.

Something meaningful.

Something he never expected her to touch.

---

The day started with stillness-Damien gone again, no cameras watching her anymore, no staff in sight. Just a hollow silence that felt like the eye of a storm.

Isla wandered the penthouse barefoot, tension riding under her skin like an electric current. Her robe floated behind her as she moved through the halls, every step echoing like defiance. She passed the main library, the drawing room, the lounge with the piano she hadn't dared to touch yet.

Then she reached his study.

It was unlocked.

Again.

Almost like he wanted her to find something.

Or maybe... like he wanted her to try.

To test him.

To prove whether she would obey or rebel.

Today, she was done obeying.

She stepped inside.

The smell of leather and cedarwood hit her first, followed by the faint scent of his cologne embedded into the air like memory.

She didn't go for the drawer this time.

No-she walked to the center of the room and stared at the only personal thing Damien Blackwood kept in plain sight:

A glass display case.

Inside it, resting on a velvet pedestal, was an old silver pocket watch.

Antique.

Worn.

Valuable.

But not in the monetary sense. In the personal one.

She remembered seeing him touch it once. Not often. Just once-after a phone call that left him silent for a full hour. He hadn't said anything that night. He'd just sat there in the dark, holding the watch like it was the only thing tethering him to this world.

And now it was here.

Fragile. Exposed.

A symbol.

A weapon.

Isla reached out and lifted the case lid.

Her fingers brushed the smooth surface of the watch. It was cold. Heavy.

It ticked faintly, like a dying heartbeat.

She hesitated.

This wasn't who she was.

She wasn't a destroyer.

But he had made her feel small. Trapped. Replaced.

And now she needed him to feel something, anything. Because silence was killing her faster than any cage ever could.

Her hands tightened.

And she hurled the pocket watch across the room.

The crash shattered the air.

Glass. Metal. Wood.

The pieces flew in different directions-scattering across the marble like broken stars.

The sound echoed through the penthouse.

And for the first time since this forced marriage began-

Isla felt something like relief.

The silence that followed wasn't suffocating.

It was cleansing.

---

It took exactly fourteen minutes for Damien to come home.

She timed it.

Fourteen minutes from destruction to reckoning.

She stood in the middle of the room when he entered-his shoulders broad beneath a dark coat, his jaw already clenched, his eyes locked onto hers before they even landed on the mess.

He didn't say anything at first.

Just looked past her.

Saw the broken glass.

The destroyed watch.

And then...

He laughed.

Not a warm laugh. Not a real one.

A bitter, cold thing that sounded more like a storm trying to swallow itself.

He walked in slowly, taking in the fragments scattered across the floor.

"Of all the things," he said quietly, "you chose that."

She held her ground. "You've broken so much of me. I figured it was only fair."

His eyes snapped back to her.

And for once, he didn't try to control his fury.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Yes," she said, lifting her chin. "I've shown you how it feels."

"That watch belonged to my father."

Her breath caught.

Good.

Let him feel it.

He stepped closer, a blade in a black suit. "He gave it to me the day he died. I've kept it intact through every war, every deal, every loss. Even when they killed Lena, I kept it whole."

His voice broke. Just a crack. Almost nothing.

"But you... you thought this was your weapon?"

Isla's defiance faltered-but only for a second.

"You weaponized my body. My life. My freedom. And I'm the villain because I shattered a watch?"

"You didn't break a watch," he said. "You crossed a line."

"Then maybe," she said, stepping closer, "you should ask yourself why I finally did."

The tension between them snapped like electricity.

Before she could blink, he reached forward-grabbed her wrist.

Not rough.

But not gentle, either.

"You think you're making me feel something?" he whispered. "You want chaos? You want revenge?"

Her throat tightened.

"No," she said. "I want you to stop pretending this is a marriage when it's a prison."

Damien's grip tightened. "You're not in a prison."

"Then what is this?"

His voice dropped to a low, lethal whisper.

"This is mine."

Then-before she could react-he pulled her forward, pressed his mouth to hers.

It wasn't soft.

It wasn't careful.

It was punishment.

Possession.

Like he was trying to kiss the fight out of her.

And for a breathless, terrible second,she let him.

Then she pushed back.

Hard.

Her palm slammed into his chest.

They stood inches apart, both breathing hard, both shaken by something that went far beyond lust.

"I'm not her," she said again, voice breaking. "You can't keep trying to rewrite your past with my body."

He stared at her like she'd peeled back the last piece of armor he had left.

Then he turned away.

Without another word, Damien stepped over the shattered watch and walked out of the room.

---

Isla stood alone.

Shaking.

Victory and regret twisted in her chest like enemies.

She had struck back.

She had hurt him.

But she wasn't sure who bled more.