Chapter 2 Secret Behind The Vows

The limousine was silent.

Amira sat across from Damien, her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Her veil was removed, exposing the face that clearly wasn't her sister's.

And still, Damien hadn't said a word.

Until now.

"I want the truth," he said coldly, his voice low but sharp as glass. "Where is Alina?"

Amira's chest tightened. Her lips trembled. "She... she ran away. This morning."

Damien exhaled heavily, leaning back against the seat, eyes narrowing at her.

"And you? You agreed to take her place? Why?"

She looked away, ashamed. "Because my family needed this marriage to happen. My father's in the hospital. We're behind on everything. I didn't have a choice."

Damien scoffed. "Everyone has a choice. You made yours."

Amira felt the sting of his words like a slap across the face.

Silence again. The city lights blurred outside the tinted windows. They were almost at the penthouse-the place she was now expected to live.

With him.

Suddenly, Damien's voice dropped, softer but more dangerous. "You know what I hate the most, Amira?"

She looked at him, barely whispering, "What?"

"Being lied to."

Her breath caught.

They arrived.

The elevator ride to the top floor of Blackwood Tower felt eternal. When they stepped into the cold, sterile luxury of the penthouse, Amira's feet felt like lead.

"This room is yours," Damien said, pointing to a guest suite. "Don't come into mine. Don't act like my wife. And don't think for a second that I trust you."

Before she could reply, he walked away.

That night, Amira cried for the first time in months.

---

The next morning, she found a letter slipped under her door.

> "You have one month to convince me this wasn't all a scam.

Or I'll annul the marriage-and ruin your family.

- Damien."

---

Days passed.

Damien barely looked at her. When he did, it was cold, unreadable. Amira tried to be invisible. She cooked. Cleaned. Helped his housekeeper. Studied his schedule.

She saw the way he stared out his office window sometimes, like he was chasing ghosts. She saw the unopened piano in the living room. And the photos hidden in drawers-of a young boy who looked like Damien.

One night, she couldn't help it. She asked.

"Who is he?"

Damien froze. His face hardened. "My brother."

"What happened to him?"

A long pause.

"He died," Damien said quietly, "because someone lied to me. Just like you did."

Amira's heart sank.

That was the moment she realized something deeper: Damien wasn't just cruel. He was broken. And maybe her being here-her lie-was ripping open wounds that never healed.

And worse... she was starting to care.

---

One evening, as the rain fell again, Amira stood on the balcony, staring at the city lights.

Then she heard it-music.

The piano.

Damien was playing.

She walked slowly toward the sound, heart pounding.

He didn't notice her at first.

Then he did.

And he stopped.

Their eyes met.

For the first time since the wedding, Damien looked at her-not like a stranger, but like someone haunted by everything he'd lost.

"I never wanted this," Amira whispered. "But I'm here. And I won't lie again. Even if it means you hate me forever."

Damien stared at her for a long time. Then he whispered,

"I don't hate you, Amira... I hate that I'm starting to feel something."

---

> ⚠️ To be continued in Chapter 3...