Chapter 35: The Mother Of The Devil
The heavy doors of the manor snapped shut behind them, leaving Ana alone with Victoria in the grand corridor.
The air here was heavy with the scent of aged mahogany, fresh lilies, and wealth... a far cry from the cramped, cold apartment Ana had tried to rebuild her life in after the divorce.
Victoria led her toward the glass conservatory at the rear of the estate. She walked slowly, with quiet elegance. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her.
"Two years ago," Victoria began softly, her clear, refined voice echoing in the vast, quiet glasshouse, "you signed the divorce papers and vanished from this family without a single word. Now, you are back at his side, sleeping under his roof."
Victoria stopped in front of a sprawling display of orchids and turned around. Her sharp eyes locked onto Ana’s... eyes that held two decades of grief, lingering bitterness, and a mother’s fierce, protective instinct.
"Why did you divorce my son, Anastasia?" Victoria asked flatly. "And why are you back now? What is your intention with Damian?"
Ana’s heart hammered against her ribs, but her posture remained straight. Damian’s cold, menacing voice from the Maybach echoed clearly in her mind. Ana swallowed the lump in her throat, keeping her expression calm and unreadable.
"I signed the divorce because... back then, we were both suffocating," Ana replied quietly, choosing her words with extreme caution.
"We were young, and the weight of our families’ history was too heavy. As for why I’m back..." She took a slow breath, meeting Victoria’s sharp gaze directly. "...Damian asked me to come back. We realized we weren’t done with each other. My intentions are simply to work, live my life, and support him where I can. I have no grand scheme, Mrs. Sterling."
Victoria stared at her for a long, agonizing moment, searching Ana’s face for any sign of deceit, greed, or the ruthless malice that ran so rampant in the Vance bloodline.
She saw none. All she saw was a girl with soft, clear eyes carrying a quiet, unshakable dignity despite everything her family had done.
Victoria let out a quiet, heavy sigh. The cold tension in her posture softened just a fraction.
"I spent years hating your surname, Anastasia," Victoria said softly, her voice dropping into a rare, vulnerable register. "When Arthur died... when Richard Vance framed my husband and drove him to his grave, I swore I would never let anyone from your bloodline step foot in this house. That is why I ignored you. That is why I treated you like a ghost when you were married to my son."
Victoria took a step closer, looking down at Ana.
"I was wrong to take out your father’s sins on you," Victoria continued firmly. "I want to start fresh with you, Anastasia. I want us to put the past and all the conflicts caused by your father behind us."
Ana blinked, stunned by the unexpected confession. Her mind reeled with confusion... the icy matriarch who had turned a blind eye to her for two years was suddenly offering peace?
"Why now, Mrs. Sterling?" Ana asked softly, her brow furrowing in genuine bewilderment. "After all these years... why now?"
Victoria paused. A flicker of hesitation crossed her regal features.
She couldn’t tell Ana that watching Damian’s cold, ruthless demeanor over the past two years had terrified her... or that she saw how Ana was the only person alive who could bring a flicker of genuine humanity back into her son’s dark eyes.
Victoria smoothed down her silk sleeves, regaining her composure.
"Because you are back at Damian’s side," Victoria answered simply, her tone absolute and leaving zero room for argument. "Whether by fate or choice, you are going to be a part of this family. And a Sterling family stays together. No matter what."
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The dinner that followed in the grand dining room was suffocatingly quiet. Silverware clinked softly against fine porcelain under the dim glow of the crystal chandelier. Ana kept her posture rigid and her tongue quiet, letting Victoria control the moment.
Once dinner was done, Ana practically bolted up the grand staircase to escape the heavy, oppressive atmosphere.
The master suite Victoria had assigned them was massive... a grand, intimidating chamber designed by Victoria herself after Arthur’s passing. Radiating a heavy, solemn authority. And in the center of the room sat a single, massive king-sized bed.
Ana was standing near the edge of the mattress, running a hand through her hair in sheer exhaustion, when the heavy bedroom door clicked shut.
Damian stood by the entrance, loosening his black silk tie with one hand. His dark eyes locked onto her with a quiet, lethal intensity that made the room feel instantly smaller.
"You did well down there," Damian murmured, his voice low, as he tossed his tie onto the armchair and unbuttoned his crisp white collar. "My mother was watching your every move."
"I did what you told me to do," Ana replied softly, stepping back slightly as he strode toward her. "I didn’t say a word about the contract. Or the money."
Damian stopped right in front of her, his massive frame towering over hers. He didn’t offer a word of thanks. Instead, his long fingers reached out, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck, tracing down to the zipper of her dress.
"Good girl," he growled low. "Now... I need a shower. And you’re coming with me."
Before Ana could protest, Damian caught her by the wrist and pulled her straight into the sprawling, steam-filled master bathroom.
Without breaking eye contact, Damian stripped away his shirt and trousers, revealing his broad chest and powerful shoulders.
He stepped under the pounding hot water, dragging her in with him. The scorching spray instantly soaked her hair and dress, sticking the wet fabric to her pale skin. Ana gasped at the sudden heat, her hands instinctively pressing against his slick, hard chest for balance.
Damian gripped her chin, forcing her head up until her wide, breathless eyes met his dark, unyielding gaze. Water streamed down his sharp jawline, making him look dangerously handsome and entirely untamed.
"You think surviving my mother means you get a break tonight, doll?" Damian murmured, his voice vibrating against the sound of the cascading water.
His large hand slid down from her jaw, over her throat, and pressed firmly against her shoulder... applying a deliberate, downward pressure. "On your knees, Anastasia. Serve me."
Ana’s eyes flared with sudden, fierce defiance. She planted her feet firm against the slick marble, her fingers digging desperately into his wet wrists as she shoved against his chest with all the strength she had left.
"No, Damian!" Ana choked out, her voice sharp despite the water blinding her eyes. "We are in your mother’s house! Your father’s memorial is tomorrow! Have some restraint... "
"Restraint?" Damian cut her off with a dark, ruthless scoff.
Before she could pull away, his hand shot out, wrapping around the back of her neck with an iron grip. He pulled her flush against his towering, iron-hard frame, trapping her between his body and the warm glass wall of the shower.
The heat radiating off him was stifling.
"You don’t get to tell me when to have restraint, Anastasia," he growled low into her ear, his thumb pressing possessively into the side of her jaw until her lips parted in a breathless gasp. "You belong to me under this roof just as much as anywhere else. Now stop fighting me."
Ana squirmed in his hold, her hands pushing against his hips, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. "I am not your toy, Damian! I did everything you asked today... I kept your secret, I stood by you... "
"And now you’re going to obey me," Damian commanded, his dark eyes burning into hers with absolute authority.