Chapter 4 Worst nightmare

(third person pov)

Somewhere around the city, the dim yellow lights of a small bar cast shadows across the walls. At the far corner, a man sat alone, leaning lazily against the back of his chair. His phone was in his hand, his eyes fixed on the screen. A low chuckle escaped his lips, then another, louder this time until people began turning their heads. He didn't care. He looked like a man who had just found something deliciously dangerous. "Damien's worst nightmare is back."

Allen sat down with his assistant Reo. His phone screen glowed in his hand, showing him something that clearly entertained him far too much.

"Reo..." he called, still chuckling. His assistant turned from the counter.

"I love what I'm seeing, I love the turn of things,it's like heaven is on my side." Allen said, eyes still on the screen. "Help me arrange a meeting with her. You know what they say an enemy's enemy is a friend. This could be fun... cooperating with her."

Reo nodded, already reaching for his phone. Allen leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip of whiskey. The amber liquid swirled in the glass as he spoke again, voice dripping with mockery.

"How do you think it feels, Reo? When your past... every dirty little secret you buried... comes clawing back to life? When everything you've built starts cracking, piece by piece, right in your face?" He smirked dangerously. "It's a slow fall... gentle, gentle... until the ground comes rushing up. Hmm, Damien... how will it feel when everything you protect... burns?"

Reo's phone clicked shut. He hesitated before turning back.

"She agreed, right?" Allen asked, leaning forward. "She has to. No one can help her more than I can."

Reo lowered his gaze. "Sir... she declined."

Allen's brow twitched. "What?"

"She said she can't cooperate with you. Called it her family matter, nothing to do with outsiders. She told me to tell you to stay out of her way."

Allen's smirk froze. He narrowed his eyes. "Outsiders? Did you even tell her who I am?"

Reo swallowed and added, "She... knows it's you. I told her. She still refused. Said you're no different from Damien. And if you interfere in her business... you'll go down too."

The glass in Allen's hand hit the table with a sharp thud.

"Did she really say that?" His voice was cold now, no hint of humor.

"Yes, sir."

For a long moment, Allen said nothing. His jaw worked, a slow grind, his fingers curling around the whiskey glass like he could crush it.

"She thinks she can shut me out?" he muttered under his breath. "She thinks she can walk away from me like I'm nothing? Let's see if it goes well with you this time."

Reo took a careful step back. "Sir..."

"Stop. Just... stop talking. Get out."

Reo raised his brows. "Sir, we're in a bar. I still need to get you home before I go. If you want me to get out, you'll have to cooperate and..."

"Reo..." Allen's voice was razor-sharp now. "Don't push your luck. Get out of here before I..."

Reo smirked faintly, more amused than worried. "Yes, sir. No need to make empty threats. I'm leaving." He turned for the door.

Allen didn't watch him go. He just sat there, staring into his drink, the ice melting slowly, his reflection warped in the golden liquid.

"Evelyn..." he whispered, the name tasting like venom on his tongue. "Do you have any idea who you're messing with? You think you're untouchable because you've got Damien in your sights? You think you can play this game without me? Do you have a strong backbone this time?"

The bar's dim light caught the edge of his smirk again but it wasn't the easy grin from before. This one was sharper, hungrier.

Five years ago, she'd made a mistake walking away. Five years ago, she'd thought she was free from him. Now she was back in the game and he wasn't going to let her win.

Allen's fingers drummed against the table. His mind moved fast. If she wouldn't join him willingly, he'd pull her in anyway. People like Evelyn always had something to lose. And Allen? Allen knew exactly how to find it.

Somewhere between the swirl of whiskey and the echo of her refusal, his anger hardened into something far more dangerous resolve.

He tossed back the last of his drink, set the empty glass down, and stood.

"If not for that Damien who you hate so much,you won't have escaped that easily but I think I love this side of you now. It's making my game more interesting." A slow, cold laugh slipped past his lips.

"Brother, who would you choose again this time. Would you give up everything for love again? How about i borrow your love as my weapon,I will return it when I am done destroying you two. Let's see how your love survive this."

Blackthorne's Mansion

Damien leaned back in his chair, the heavy mahogany desk between him and the woman who had returned to turn his life upside down. The contract lay open before him, the ink from his signature barely dried.

Truth be told, he had scanned the contract at that party but not this closely. Not enough to catch Clause 13.

His jaw tightened as his eyes dragged over the words again. She can bring men into the house at any time. He has no right to oppose.

For crying out loud, this was his mansion.

How was he supposed to watch some man walk into his home to see Evelyn smile at them and say nothing?

He shut the folder with a sharp snap.

"About the company, the house, the properties..." Damien's voice was calm, but the steel underneath was hard to miss. "I can accept that they can be owned by you. Hell, I could even add myself to that list if it'd make you happy."

His eyes locked on hers.

"But don't you think Clause 13..."

Evelyn scoffed before he could finish.

"And what happened to Clause 13?" She leaned against the desk like she owned the place which, technically, now she did. "I can't bring men into your house, is that it? Oh..." her lips curved into a wicked smirk. "...don't tell me you're jealous?"

Damien's gaze didn't waver.

"Can't I be?"

"Would you like to hear a story?" she asked, voice dropping to a silken whisper.

Damien's hands flexed against the armrest. "Go on."

"It's about a woman," Evelyn murmured, leaning closer until her lips were almost brushing his ear. "A woman called Evie. Once upon a time, she was married to a man she loved. Trusted him. Believed in him."

She paused, tilting her head to study his expression. Her smirk returned.

"But one day, her husband betrayed her. He ruined her. Left her with nothing. So she ran. She had no choice."

Her voice was softer now, but the words were sharp as broken glass.

"For five good years... she slept with different men. Just to keep a roof over her head, just to feed herself, just to survive."

She pulled back just enough to see his reaction, her eyes glittering with provocation.

"That's not all," she continued, almost conversationally. "Sometimes, she served men for money. Sometimes, it wasn't even about money, just not being the one begging for once. What do you think of her?"

She tilted her head, her lips brushing his jaw in mock intimacy.

"Disgusting, right?"

Damien's gaze was unreadable.

"Is that what you want me to think of you?" he asked quietly.

Evelyn's smirk faltered for the first time, but she hid it quickly. "Does it matter? You already decided what I was the day I left."

"No," Damien said, his voice low but sure. "That's what you decided for me."

The words landed between them like a stone in still water, ripples spreading, unsettling the air.

Evelyn forced a laugh, sliding off his lap and straightening her skirt. "Save your speeches, Damien. We both know what happened."

Damien's eyes followed her, but he didn't move.

"If you really knew," he mummered under his breath, "you wouldn't be here trying to hurt me. You'd were in somewhere safe... and I was still be the one protecting you without you knowing it."

"Clause 13 stays, as long as this mansion is mine, " she threw over her shoulder, striding toward the door.

Damien leaned back again, his hands gripping the armrests until his knuckles whitened.