Chapter 66: The Devil Wants To Get Married?
The massive doors of the Sterling family estate swung open, revealing the grand marble foyer Ana remembered all too well.
Her heart pounded in her chest, every instinct screaming at her to turn back. But Damian’s broad hand remained firmly anchored at the small of her back, a warm, unyielding weight guiding her inside.
To Ana’s absolute shock, there were no cold glares or sharp snickers waiting for them.
Instead, the atmosphere was thick with a heavy, careful silence. Victoria Sterling greeted them in a soft, tailored dress, her expression devoid of the venom she usually carried.
Valerie stood a few steps behind her, her arms crossed, looking at the floor rather than meeting Ana’s eyes.
Dinner was served in the opulent private dining room. Throughout the meal, Ana felt the suffocating pressure of being watched... not with hatred, but with a tense, cautious hesitation, as if his family were walking on eggshells around Damian’s silent, lethal authority.
"Anastasia, please, have some more of the roasted duck," Victoria urged gently, passing the platter across the table. "I made it myself this evening."
Damian didn’t even look up from his plate, his tone dropping smoothly. "Mother, you have a full culinary staff. Just rest and stop taking on responsibilities you don’t need."
"Cooking for my family is hardly a hassle, Damian," Victoria replied softly, a faint, almost nervous smile on her lips.
It was, by all accounts, a wonderful dinner. The food was exquisite, the silver polished, the conversation polite. Yet Ana couldn’t enjoy a single bite.
Her throat felt tight, and she could only manage a stiff, practiced smile, playing the role of the dutiful partner while every muscle in her body remained coiled with tension.
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After the main course, Damian stepped away to the study to take an urgent corporate call, his voice echoing faintly down the corridor. Victoria bustled off toward the kitchen, insisting on personally packing side dishes and desserts for them to take home.
Needing a desperate moment to breathe, Ana slipped through the French doors into the estate’s expansive glass conservatory and flower garden. The cool night air felt like a blessing against her warm cheeks.
"Anastasia."
Ana turned around quickly. Valerie was standing by the archway, her shadow long against the marble floor.
Ana braced herself, but Valerie didn’t raise her voice. She stepped closer, her expression surprisingly vulnerable.
"I wanted to talk to you," Valerie said quietly, looking down at the blooming jasmine plants between them. "I... I owe you an apology. My hatred for your family... for what your father did, framing ours for fraud and money laundering... it consumed me. But I was wrong to project that onto you. You weren’t responsible for his crimes."
Ana stared at her, stunned into silence.
"Damian always tried to protect you from your family, you know," Valerie continued, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "Even after the divorce... he kept looking over you from afar."
Ana’s brow furrowed, a sudden wave of confusion and curiosity crashing over her. "What are you talking about, Valerie? Damian never came near me after the divorce. Protect me from what? I was literally living in near poverty."
"You were on your own?" Valerie blinked, looking genuinely baffled. "That doesn’t make sense. Damian absolutely told Mother and me that he had his private security team watching over you constantly... making sure your family couldn’t track you down or drag you back into their mess after the split."
Ana felt completely speechless, her breath catching in her throat.
Private security? Watching over her?
For two years, she believed she was completely abandoned, struggling to make ends meet in a tiny apartment while Damian moved on in his ivory tower. Why would he guard her from the shadows without ever showing his face?
Before she could process the revelation, Valerie offered a small, tentative smile. "We should probably head back inside for dessert. Mother makes the best tiramisu. You really ought to try it."
Ana nodded numbly, following Valerie back through the French doors.
When they re-entered the formal lounge, Damian was already off his call, sitting on the plush leather sofa across from Victoria. The moment Ana stepped through the doorway, both of them instantly stopped talking.
Ana walked over silently and took a seat on the sofa beside Damian, leaving a noticeable few inches of space between them as her mind raced with what Valerie had just exposed.
Damian’s dark eyes narrowed slightly at the distance she had put between them. Without saying a word, his broad arm reached out, clamping firmly around her waist and hauling her body right back flush against his side, his large hand resting possessively on her hip.
A maid served her a plate of tiramisu. Ana ate in total silence, her mind reeling with two terrifying possibilities...
Did Damian simply lie to his family to save face after the divorce... or had he never really left her alone, silently watching her suffer in poverty for two years while doing nothing to lift her out of it?
Before she could process the chill running down her spine, Valerie casually chimed in from across the coffee table. "By the way, Damian, that head of private security you assigned to guard Ana back then after your divorce in the town she lived... is he the same one handling the Stark Holdings investigation now?"
Damian’s dark eyes narrowed into a dangerous slit, casting a sharp, silent warning at Valerie for speaking too much.
Victoria set her teacup down on its saucer, looking directly at Damian’s heavy, possessive grip on Ana.
"So," Victoria asked, her tone smooth and probing, "when are you both planning to get married again?"
Ana held her breath, her chest tightening as she waited for his response.
Damian leaned back, his arm tightening around Ana’s waist to lock her against him. His obsidian eyes met his mother’s with absolute, calm authority.
"When I decide the time is right," Damian said, his voice smooth, commanding, and leaving zero room for argument. "Anastasia belongs by my side, Mother. We’ll handle our timeline on my terms."
Ana’s blood ran cold.
What is he saying? She desperately wanted to convince herself that Damian was just putting on a performance for his family... keeping up the facade of their reconciliation to protect his image and secure the board’s votes.
But feeling the heavy, suffocating warmth of his hand clamped around her waist, a far darker fear crept into her mind.
Was he just playing a role... or was he truly planning to lock her into another marriage, trapping her by his side forever?