Chapter 7
The mansion was too quiet.
Ariana stood by the window of what used to be their bedroom, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. Tomorrow, she would leave for good.
Tonight was her last night as Ariana Wolfe.
She touched the divorce papers lying neatly inside her suitcase. Signed. Final. Irreversible.
A soft knock came at the door.
Her breath caught.
She didn't need to ask who it was.
"Come in," she said quietly.
The door opened.
Damian stood there.
No jacket. No tie. Just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, like he had come straight from his study.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The air between them felt fragile.
"I thought you left already," he said.
"Tomorrow morning."
A pause.
"I won't be here," he added.
She gave a faint smile. "Of course."
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
It shouldn't feel this hard, she told herself.
He was the one who chose this.
But seeing him like this — without his usual armor — made her chest ache.
"You signed without arguing," Damian said suddenly.
"Would it have changed anything?"
Silence.
"No," he admitted.
"Then why fight?"
He watched her carefully. "You seem calm."
"I cried enough already," she replied.
That hit him.
He didn't know when she cried.
He was never there to see it.
Ariana walked past him toward the dresser. She began removing her jewelry slowly, placing each piece into a velvet box.
The wedding ring was the last.
Her fingers lingered on it.
Damian's eyes followed the movement.
"You don't have to take it off tonight," he said.
A bitter laugh escaped her. "Why? So I can pretend a little longer?"
She slid it off.
The small metallic sound as it touched the table felt louder than it should.
Something shifted in Damian's expression.
"Ariana."
"Yes?"
"Did you ever… regret marrying me?"
The question surprised her.
She turned to face him fully.
"No," she answered honestly. "I regret loving you more than you loved me."
The words hung between them.
He took a step closer.
"I did love you."
"Not enough to trust me."
His jaw tightened.
"I saw the photos."
"And you believed them."
"They were convincing."
"So was I," she shot back softly.
Another step closer.
Now they were only inches apart.
The tension was no longer anger.
It was something deeper.
Something unfinished.
"Tell me the truth," Damian said quietly. "Was there ever someone else?"
Her eyes burned — not with guilt, but with hurt.
"No."
He searched her face.
For doubt.
For hesitation.
There was none.
For the first time since everything began, uncertainty flickered across his features.
"You should have asked me that weeks ago," she whispered.
His hand lifted instinctively — hesitating before brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
She didn't pull back.
That was the problem.
Despite everything… she still felt him.
"You're leaving," he said.
"You made that clear."
"And you're not going to look back?"
She swallowed.
"If I do, I won't leave."
The honesty in her voice broke something inside him.
Without thinking, Damian cupped her face.
"Ariana…"
Her name sounded different now.
Not cold.
Not distant.
But almost desperate.
"This changes nothing," she warned softly.
"I know."
But neither of them moved away.
Years of love, resentment, longing — all crashing into this one fragile moment.
He leaned down.
Slowly.
Giving her time to stop him.
She didn't.
Their lips met — not with passion at first, but with ache.
With grief.
With everything they were losing.
Ariana's hands pressed against his chest.
She should push him away.
She should remember the humiliation.
The doubt.
The signed papers.
But her heart betrayed her.
The kiss deepened.
Desperate.
Familiar.
Painfully intimate.
Damian pulled her closer, as if afraid she would disappear.
Maybe she already had.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing unevenly.
"This is a mistake," she whispered.
"Then let me make it."
There was no arrogance in his voice.
Only longing.
Tonight was not about pride.
It was about goodbye.
And maybe — one last memory.
He carried her to the bed gently, like something fragile he was afraid to break.
And for the first time in weeks, there were no accusations.
No Lucia.
No rumors.
Just two people who once loved each other completely.
It wasn't wild.
It wasn't reckless.
It was slow.
Tender.
Almost heartbreaking.
Like trying to memorize someone before losing them forever.
Afterward, Ariana lay against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
She wanted to freeze time.
But time never listened.
"Stay," he murmured sleepily.
She closed her eyes.
"I can't."
By the time dawn touched the curtains, Damian was asleep.
Ariana carefully slipped out of his arms.
She stood beside the bed for a long moment.
Memorizing him.
The man she loved.
The man who didn't believe her.
She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
"Goodbye, Damian."
Then she turned and walked away.
She didn't see his fingers twitch slightly as the door closed.
She didn't see his eyes open slowly.
And she didn't hear the single word he whispered into the empty room.
"Ariana…"
But it was too late.
By the time the sun fully rose over the Wolfe estate…
She was gone