Chapter 3

Damian's POV

When I took that diary to Margaret's house, I didn't even get to knock before a voice rang out from inside.

"Don't come in."

The voice was cold and hard.

I stood in the hallway, clutching the diary.

"Margaret, please. I need to see Elena."

"I told you, do not call me that. We are not family."

The door opened a crack. Margaret stood there, her face far calmer than I expected.

My throat tightened.

"Where is she?"

She glanced at the journal in my hands.

"She left you for a reason."

"I know I messed up. I can explain."

"Explain to whom?" She pressed her hand against the doorframe. "To the wife you abandoned over and over? Or to the woman who mortgaged her mother's home for you?"

I froze.

She didn't look at me again.

"She doesn't owe you a meeting."

The door slammed in my face.

I stood in the dim hallway for what felt like hours. I scrolled to the very bottom of my contacts, stopping at Elena's best friend, Julia Stevens.

I begged her for a meeting three times. She finally replied with a single address.

3:00 PM.

A boutique cafe in West Village.

When I arrived, Julia was already seated by the window. A manila folder sat on the table.

She didn't invite me to sit.

"Where is Elena?"

"You really have a talent for asking the most useless questions."

She slid the folder toward me.

"Look at this first."

I opened it.

Inside were printed chat logs.

Between me and Serena.

Starting from the very day Serena returned to New York.

"Damian, I'm scared to sleep alone."

"Don't worry, I'm coming over."

"Won't Elena be mad?"

"She's understanding."

Next page.

"Can we take some money from the new project budget? The doctor says my treatment is due next week."

"I'll handle it."

"Does Elena check the accounts?"

"She doesn't touch the company books."

The veins on the back of my hands bulged.

Julia let out a harsh laugh.

"You certainly sounded confident."

"Where did you get these?"

"She gave them to me."

I looked up.

She glared at me.

"You really thought she was blind?"

The papers rustled as a draft swept through the cafe.

"When... when did she find out?"

"The very first time you wired money to Serena."

My breath caught.

"That's impossible."

"Why? Because you think you're a genius?" She slammed another paper onto the table. "Your company was facing a liquidity crisis back then. The banks were calling in loans, and investors were breathing down your neck. While she was out begging clients for you, she discovered you were using her mortgage money to feed Serena."

It was the mortgage record.

The address, the signature, the exact amount.

Everything was laid bare.

I stared at Elena's signature, my finger brushing against the ink.

"Why didn't she confront me?"

"She did."

Julia's voice was razor-sharp.

"And you told her Serena was dying and told her to stop being so petty."

My heart stopped.

I remembered. One evening, Elena had stood at my study door, asking why a transaction was marked as 'medical advancement.'

I was texting Serena at that exact moment.

I hadn't even looked up.

I had said, Elena, can you please try to be a decent human being?

The memory crawled out of the past, suffocating me.

Julia spread the chat logs across the table.

"You claimed you were just doing a good deed. Meanwhile, you bypassed project approvals. You gave Serena Elena's personal client list so Serena could use your name to secure deals. You even had your doctor monitor Elena's records to make sure she wasn't snooping around Serena."

I slammed my hands on the table, standing up.

"Stop. That's enough."

My sleeve caught my coffee cup, sending the dark liquid splashing across the wood.

She didn't flinch.

"It's not enough."

She pulled a bank statement from the very bottom of the folder.

"This wire transfer was sent to Sterling Group the day after Elena mortgaged her mother's house. Three days later, you wired a third of it to Serena."

I stared at the numbers, my lips trembling.

"I... I was just lending it to her. She needed it."

"And did she pay it back?"

I couldn't answer.

Julia looked at me, her eyes devoid of any pity.

"Elena had all of this months ago. She was waiting for you to tell her the truth."

My throat felt tight, dry.

"Why did she give these to you?"

"Because she was terrified she would be weak enough to forgive you."

She tossed a wet napkin onto the spilled coffee.

"She asked me to keep a copy. She said, 'If I ever start believing his lies again, show me this and wake me up.'"

My hands slowly lost their strength.

The papers lay scattered across the wet table.

I had always thought Elena was quiet because she was weak, because she didn't know how to fight.

But every single time she had remained silent, she had noted down a date and filed away a piece of evidence.

"Where is she?" my voice cracked. "I just want to talk to her. Just five minutes."

Julia gathered her things, leaving a copy of the mortgage document on the table.

"You don't even remember what you signed, do you?"

I looked up.

"What do you mean?"

She grabbed her bag and walked past me.

"Go back to your office, Damian. And stop looking for her."

The cafe door opened, and the cold New York wind rushed in.

I looked down at the paper.

Right next to Elena's signature was my own handwriting from years ago.

I had written:

"I hereby acknowledge and guarantee this capital injection into Sterling Group."

My name was written right next to hers.

A stolen future.

A name I had personally dragged through the mud.