Chapter 3 The Things He Never Said

The air was thick with tension as Mara weighed her options. She knew that refusing the ring would be a declaration of war, but accepting it would bind her to Damon in ways she wasn't sure she was ready for.

With a deep breath, she agreed to put on the ring. Damon slipped the ring onto her left finger.

"It fits perfectly," Damon said, his voice softening slightly as he gazed at the ring on her finger. It felt heavy on her finger, a symbol of the complicated web she was now entangled in. And he kissed her hand where the ring was. "With this, I will protect you. No one dares to touch you," he said.

Mara looked down at the ring, feeling a mix of emotions. She knew she had to play along, but a part of her wondered what it would be like to truly be Damon's partner, to stand by his side as equals. She once had feelings for him during their childhood, but he never noticed.

As she looked up at Damon, she saw a glimmer of something in his eyes, something that made her heart skip a beat. For a moment, she forgot about the danger, the contract, and the lies. All she saw was the man standing in front of her, his eyes locked on hers with an intensity that made her feel alive.

But the moment was fleeting, and reality snapped back into place. Damon's expression hardened, and he turned away.

"Show my wife to her room," he said in a cold voice, telling one of his maids.

Mara followed behind the maid, and the guest room had already been prepared for her.

The diamond ring on Mara's finger was shining like a star in the sky. The marriage wasn't love; it was not real; it was just a contract between them for safety.

And yet, she was staring at it beneath. Her chest tightened as if she had been stabbed in the chest with a sharp object, which broke her heart. The contract marriage was signed that night in her apartment. She went straight to bed without changing.

The next day she woke up to morning flickering in the room, but not in a happy or a sad mood. Her mind still remembered what happened yesterday, as if she was in a dark dream and her subconscious refused to wake her up. Everything was just too sudden for her. She stood up and freshened up.

Two hours later, they were surrounded by Damon's legal team and a forged whirlwind of press photos, fake smiles, and champagne. The headlines would be displayed by morning: The Mafia King's Secret Wife. No one knew about her, and no one needed to. That was the plan.

Behind closed doors, though, the mansion was too big. Too cold. Too quiet. Damon had disappeared into his office immediately after returning, locking the door behind him like she didn't exist.

Mara wandered, alone, until she found herself in a room she hadn't seen before-smaller, more personal. Dust floated through the golden rays of sunset coming between velvet drapes. The walls were full of books, some of which were old. A faint smell of cedar and ink filled the room.

But it was the photo on the desk that stopped her breath. As she gazed at the photos, her heart pounded in her chest, a mix of emotions swirling within her. It was her. Her younger self when she was sixteen, maybe, wearing the same blue hoodie she used to love, back when it was all she had. And she was laughing.

There were also many photos, drawings, and letters written in her handwriting beside the photo. Her notebooks from school, little messages she'd long forgotten she'd written. Even a cut bracelet she'd once lost on the street during a rainy season.

Her knees felt slightly weak as she sat on the chair. He'd kept all of it. Every piece of her life. A gasp caught in her throat as realization bloomed-he hadn't just watched her. He'd collected her. He cared for her like a memory he couldn't let go of.

"Get out of there." The voice was sharp and cold. It came from the doorway. Damon stood there, his jaw was tight, and his eyes darkened. Mara rose slowly from the chair, trembling. "What is this, Damon?"

"I told you not to come into this room."

"You have my life on your desk like I'm a museum piece!"

"I kept them safe-"

"You kept me! You watched me, tracked me, followed every step I took for years, and didn't say a word? You let me live in fear and make me struggle with life while you had... this?" Her voice cracked. "You could've shown up. You could've been there."

"I was there," he said tightly, stepping into the room. "But I couldn't touch you without destroying you. I kept you alive. That was all I had the right to do."

"No, Damon. You had a choice. You always had a choice. You just didn't trust me with the truth." Damon's expression stuttered. He looked at her like he was seeing her break and couldn't decide whether to hold her or let her shatter.

"I didn't want you to see what I became. I have become dangerous. Heartless. Cruel. Ruthless. And I don't want you to see that."

Mara's eyes filled with tears. "But you let me see it now, didn't you?"

He stepped closer, "Everything I did... I did it because of you," he said with a hoarse voice.

"Then why does it feel like I've just lost something I never even got to hold?" There was a long silence between them. He reached for her, but she stepped back.

"I need air," she whispered, brushing past him. Damon didn't stop her. And for the first time, his hands trembled.

Outside, the air was cool against her skin. She stood at the edge of the garden, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Did he love her? Or something like it. But love wasn't supposed to feel like CCTV surveillance capturing her every move. Like a trap in a glass cage.

The mansion lights beamed like a kingdom built on a cloud behind her. Inside the room, Damon stood in a study full of memories of them that he was never brave enough to share with her. And outside, Mara wondered if the person she needed protection from... was him.