chapter 9

Damien stood there, stunned, as I turned away from him. The air in the room felt thick with tension, and I could practically feel the wheels in his mind turning, trying to formulate a response. I refused to look at him, my gaze fixed firmly on the ornate rug beneath my feet.

After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Emila, please, let me explain," he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. There was a note of desperation underlying his words, as if he was grasping at straws.

I scoffed, the sound bitter and hollow. "Explain what, exactly?" I retorted, finally turning to face him. My eyes narrowed to slits as I regarded him with a mixture of disgust and betrayal. "That you've been using me all this time for your own selfish purposes? I think Rosalyn made that pretty clear."

Damien took a step closer, but I held up a hand to stop him, my expression hardening. "Don't," I warned, my tone icy and uncompromising. "I don't want to hear your excuses. I'm done being part of your game."

Hurt and frustration flickered across Damien's features, and he ran a hand through his dark hair in a rare display of agitation. "This isn't a game to me, Emila," he said, his voice low and earnest. "You have to believe that."

I scoffed again, the sound laced with disbelief. "Then what is it, Damien?" I challenged, gesturing around the lavish room. "Because from where I'm standing, it sure looks like you've been manipulating me from the start."

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, seemingly at a loss for words. I shook my head, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. "That's what I thought," I murmured, rising from the bed. Determination hardened my features as I made my way towards the door. "I'm leaving, Damien. I can't stay here anymore, not after what I know."

As I moved past him, Damien reached out and grasped my arm, his grip firm but not forceful. "Emila, please," he pleaded, his eyes searching mine, desperation etched into every line of his face. "Don't go. Let me explain everything."

I stared at him, my expression unwavering, refusing to be swayed by his apparent sincerity. "It's too late for that," I said, a note of finality in my voice. With a gentle but resolute tug, I pulled my arm free from his grasp. "Goodbye, Damien."

Without another word, I hurried out of the room, leaving him standing there, his words hanging in the air, unanswered. The weight of my betrayal and the uncertainty of the path ahead only fueled my determination to escape this gilded cage and all the secrets it held.