He Humiliated Me, Then Wanted Me Back

My pace slowed when I neared the estate’s private lounge. Low voices leaked through the heavy wooden doors, blurred but still sharp enough to catch my attention. Instinct took over. I stepped into the shadows beside the wall, careful to keep out of sight.

A man inside let out a dry laugh. “Imagine being married off for obligation. If Damian were still here, Nikolai wouldn’t have gotten away with it.”

Another voice followed, quieter but just as cruel. “Don Damian would’ve never let his baby sister be reduced to this. Tragic, really.”

My whole body went rigid.

They were talking about Damian.

My brother.

A beat of silence passed before someone lowered their voice even further.

“There’s talk he never died at all. Some say he made it out alive.”

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

The corridor seemed to tilt beneath me.

Alive?

After all this time?

My hand pressed harder against the wall as I fought to stay standing.

Inside, the conversation carried on, careless and unaware that every word was tearing through me.

“Only Don Nikolai and the old guard know what really happened to the Vaughn family that night. She’s been kept clueless from the start.”

A snicker answered that. “Poor thing. She was just a child when it happened—easy to shape, easy to feed whatever story they wanted. No wonder she clings to affection like it’s oxygen.”

Nausea rolled through me.

The Vaughn massacre.

That was how the papers had described it years ago, though the newspapers never printed the truth. My parents. My brother. Our entire bloodline nearly erased in one night of gunfire, flames, and betrayal. I had only fragments left from that night—screams, smoke, heat, and the metallic smell of blood thick in the air.

I had always been told Damian died protecting me.

That he bought my life with his own.

But what if none of that had been true?

Then came Via’s voice, smooth and poisonous.

“She’s pathetic, really. Still looking at Nikolai like he ever gave a damn.”

That hurt more than I wanted it to.

My fingers shook, but I refused to stay hidden another second. Drawing in a slow breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room went dead quiet.

Every conversation cut off.

Every face turned toward me.

Nikolai, seated near the center of the room, jerked back slightly. His arm had been resting along the back of Via’s chair. The moment he saw me, he dropped it.

Via didn’t move.

She simply lifted her eyes to mine and smiled, smug and polished, as if she had been waiting for this.

“Vivica,” she said, her voice dripping sweetness that failed to hide the malice beneath it.

I kept my face composed, though everything inside me was in ruins.

“I’m done for the evening,” I said evenly. “I’m going upstairs.”

Nikolai rose at once, a crease forming between his brows. “Vivica, hold on—”

“I said I’m leaving.”

The edge in my voice stopped him cold.

Without giving anyone the chance to speak again, I turned and walked out. My steps were quick, steady, deliberate. I would not let them see me unravel.

Outside, the night air hit my skin like ice. I crossed the grounds toward the main house, my thoughts spinning faster with every step.

Could Damian truly be alive?

And if he was, why had the truth been buried from me?

Why had everyone around me chosen silence?

The moment I reached my suite, I locked the door behind me and began pacing. My mind refused to settle. Question after question crashed into the next, until one name pushed through all the noise.

Lai Halloway.

A man everyone in our world knew by reputation. Elusive. Dangerous. Untouchable. The don who had quietly risen to power after years in the shadows. Months ago, he had contacted me about redesigning a family crest for one of his legitimate businesses. Our dealings had been brief, formal, and perfectly professional.

But every time I sat across from him, something about him had unsettled me.

Not fear.

Recognition.

I stopped pacing and shook my head, trying to throw the thought off before it rooted itself deeper.

No.

It couldn’t be him.

It was impossible.

And yet the whispers from the lounge kept circling back, louder each time.

I went straight to the drawer where I kept letters, contracts, and old business correspondence. My hands were unsteady as I searched through the papers until I found the one I needed.

A letter in Lai Halloway’s handwriting.

I unfolded it and scanned the page again, as if I might suddenly notice something I had missed before—some clue in the wording, some trace of the past, something that would tell me whether my mind was reaching for hope or stumbling toward the truth.

Nothing clear.

Nothing certain.

Just enough to make the ache in my chest worse.

I sat at my desk, grabbed a sheet of stationery, and forced my trembling hand to steady around the pen.

I wrote only one line.

Lai, are you Damian Vaughn?

I stared at it for a moment, my pulse pounding so hard it made my fingertips numb. Then I folded the note, sealed it, and rang for one of the household couriers.

When he appeared, I handed over the envelope.

“Make sure this gets to Mr. Halloway tonight,” I said.

He gave a short nod and left without question.

The second the door shut behind him, I was alone again with the storm in my head.

Not for long.

A few minutes later, my door flew open hard enough to slam against the wall. Nikolai strode in, his face shadowed with anger.

“Why did you walk out?” he demanded.

I turned slowly to face him. “I told them I wasn’t feeling well.”

His stare hardened. “You’ve been off all night.”

I said nothing.

He took another step closer. “What are you hiding from me?”

At that, I looked him straight in the eye, letting years of practiced calm cover everything raging beneath the surface.

“That’s an interesting question,” I said quietly. “Maybe you should be asking it in a mirror.”

His jaw locked.

For a moment, I thought he might say something—deny it, threaten me, lie again.

Instead, he only stared, then turned sharply and walked out.

A second later, the door slammed shut behind him.

The sound echoed through the room.

I let out a shaky breath and pressed a hand to my chest.

The truth was no longer something distant or buried. It was moving closer, forcing its way into the light, and I could feel it in my bones.

If Damian had survived—

if my brother was somewhere out there—

then I would find him.

No matter whose secrets I had to destroy to do it.