Chapter 3: The Devil’s Loss Of Investment
Warm.
That was the first thing Anastasia felt. She was enveloped in a thick, protective embrace of heat, wrapped in blankets that smelled faintly of expensive cedar and rain. For a brief, delusional second, she thought she was safe.
Then, the muffled sound of voices filtered through the heavy fog in her mind.
"Her vitals are stabilizing, Mr. Sterling, but she is severely malnourished," a professional, quiet voice whispered nearby. "Exhaustion, dehydration, and a high fever. She needs absolute rest and proper nutrients. She’s been pushing her body past its breaking point for a very long time."
"Will she be alright?"
The second voice was a low, commanding baritone. It cut right through the residual haze in Anastasia’s head.
Her heart instantly skipped a beat.
Wait! It can’t be...
She recognized that voice by heart. It was a voice that had haunted her nightmares, a voice she had spent two long years trying to forget.
Damian.
Panic surged through her veins like ice water. Her breath hitched, and her entire body began to tremble in sheer anxiety. It felt as if her soul was ready to leave her body entirely. How was he here? How was she here?
As if her sudden trembling was completely evident, the heavy warmth surrounding her shifted. The bed dipped, and a large, warm hand gently cupped her shoulder.
"Ana?"
The way he took her name... low, rough, and entirely too intimate... took her breath away. It sent a treacherous shiver down her spine. Anastasia cursed herself inwardly, a wave of self-loathing crashing over her.
Why am I still reacting to him? Even after two years... why does he still have this power over me?
"Ana, are you awake?" Damian asked again.
His tone was incredibly soft. It sounded... laced with genuine concern.
Instinctively, her heavy eyelids fluttered open. The bright, luxurious lights of a massive penthouse bedroom blurred her vision for a second before her gaze locked onto his.
Damian was leaning over her. His sharp, devastatingly handsome features were tight, his dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that burned.
Anastasia stared back, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She looked for the mockery, the cold disgust he used to wear like armor during their marriage. But all she saw right now was an overwhelming, suffocating dark warmth.
A terrifying question echoed in her mind as she clutched the blanket tightly to her chest.
Is he actually concerned... or is the Devil just faking it?
Ana didn’t reply. She just stared at him, her eyes wide with pure surprise.
Damian looked down at her face. Suddenly, he raised his large hand, bringing it closer to her face.
Ana instinctively shut her eyes tight. Her fingers clutched the blanket against her chest, her entire body freezing as she braced for a blow.
Damian paused, his brow furrowing in confusion at her reaction. A dark frown crossed his features, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers brushed against her skin with surprising gentleness as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, clearing it away from her face. Why did she react that way?
Ana opened her eyes slowly, her heart still hammering against her ribs.
Damian had never laid a hand on her during their marriage. Not once. But the world hadn’t been kind to her over the last two years on the streets, and she knew exactly how cruel people could be.
More than that, she had witnessed Damian’s terrifying wrath before. She had seen him become violently ruthless with others when he was angry. To her, his hands were capable of absolute destruction.
The fact that he was being gentle now only made her more anxious.
Before the silence between them could grow heavier, the doctor stepped forward, clearing his throat.
"Ms. Vance, may I know how you are feeling?" The doctor asked, breaking the suffocating tension in the room.
That’s when Ana asked, "What’s going on here? Who are you?" Glancing back at Damian, her voice trembled. "Where am I?"
Anastasia tried shifting away from Damian’s hold, but he didn’t let her. His grip was an unyielding band around her. Instead of answering her, he looked up at the doctor and told him coldly, "I will call you if her condition worsens. Give the prescription to my men downstairs."
The doctor nodded quickly and left, closing the heavy door behind him and leaving the two of them entirely alone in the room.
Thick tension instantly filled the space. Ana gulped, trying to shift away from him again. This time, he let her go, stepping back just enough to give her space.
"What the hell, Damian? What am I doing here..." She looked around the massive, high-end luxury room. "Is this your house?"
"Yes, one of them," he said with absolutely no hesitation. "Ana, you need to lie down unless you want to faint again out of exhaustion."
"Even if I do, why do you care?"
Damian stared at her. His cold, unreadable gaze made her incredibly uncomfortable. Her heart did a nervous flip. Did I anger him?
"I care about the debt you owe me."
Of course. What else could it be? The fleeting warmth from earlier vanished, replaced by the harsh reality she had lived with for two years.
"Then you need to wait for me to call you," she snapped back, trying to sound braver than she felt. "When I have the money, I’ll return it to you."
Damian scoffed, a dark, mocking sound. "Don’t make me laugh, Ana. I know you can’t."
Tears started to pool in her eyes. Deep down, she knew he was right. It was a brutal fact. It was completely impossible to return 100 million dollars to him with the kind of low wage jobs she was working.
She didn’t need him to say it out loud to know how pathetic her situation was.
"Come here and take a rest," Damian commanded, shifting closer to the mattress. "Before I grab and pin you down onto the bed myself."
Ana glared at him, the tears blurring her vision. "You have no right to touch me. Remember? We are divorced, Damian."
Damian smiled, though the expression didn’t reach his icy eyes. "You don’t need to remind me. I know it very well. But until and unless you pay me back every single cent I used to buy you from your trash family... I have every right to do whatever I want with you."
Before she could react, he instantly grabbed her wrist and pulled her hard toward the center of the bed.
"I had made it very clear that you will have three years to pay me back," he purred, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If you fail to do so... then the divorce will be nullified."
"But I still have one year left..." she choked out.
"And how much have you saved till now? 150 dollars?" He tilted his head, his eyes scanning her pale face. "How pathetic, Ana."
She couldn’t control her emotions anymore. The exhaustion, the hunger, and his cruel words broke something inside her. "You must be enjoying my situation, right? If you really hate me so much, then why did you buy my freedom anyway? You could have let my father send me to some other bastard like you!"
"Tormenting your father was my original intention," Damian growled, his jaw tightening. "But I didn’t know he just saw you as a transaction in a time of need. In a way, my investment is a big loss. So how can I let go of you so easily?"
Anastasia completely lost her sanity. Driven by pure desperation, she got up on her knees and started thrashing, punching Damian’s chest with everything she had left.
Though none of her weak blows even made an impact on his broad, muscular frame, he didn’t move. He just sat there, watching her frustration bleed out. It was as clear as day how broken she was.
Finally, he caught both of her wrists in one hand, stopping her completely. "Enough!"
Before she could pull away, his other hand caught her waist. True to his words, he effortlessly pinned her down onto the bed, trapping her body beneath his weight. "I’m tired. You’re tired. So stop these tantrums and save your energy. You will need it tomorrow."
She sniffled, her chest heaving as she stared up at him. "Why? What’s tomorrow?"
"We will talk tomorrow." Damian reached down, grabbing the heavy velvet blanket and tucking both of them inside, completely ignoring her protests.
"Why are you sleeping here with me?" she panicked, trying to wedge her hands between them.
"I don’t trust that you will stay put," he said flatly. He wrapped a thick, heavy arm around her waist, holding her firm against his side so she couldn’t move an inch.
"You’re too close... It’s uncomfortable," she whispered, her face burning.
Damian leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Don’t act like an innocent little brat... Weren’t you the one who used to crave my love in the first place?"