Meanwhile, in the other room—
Damian didn’t leave.
Not even for a second.
He simply sat on the couch nearby, watching his mother from a distance.
Minutes turned into hours.
And the night deepened as the mansion gradually fell into silence.
Then, just when the darkness outside seemed to have settled into its deepest hour, Damian noticed a slight movement on the bed.
It was subtle, but unmistakable.
He immediately stood and walked towards her.
His gaze remained fixed on his mother as her lashes fluttered.
She was finally waking up.
The tension between Damian’s brows eased slightly.
“Mother…” he called softly.
Helena’s fingers moved against the sheets.
Her lashes fluttered once more before her eyes slowly opened.
She recognized that voice even through the haze of unconsciousness.
But the moment her eyes settled on Damian, the remnants of sleep disappeared.
And so did the confusion.
The memories from earlier came rushing back.
Damian, her son, hadn’t simply gotten married…
He had married their enemy.
The daughter of the very family he had sworn to her he would destroy from the roots.
Helena stared at him.
She still couldn’t bring herself to believe it.
But she couldn’t deny what she had heard before losing consciousness.
That girl had called herself Evelyn Beaumont —the second daughter of the Beaumont family.
There had been no mistake.
“Mother,” Damian called again, his voice carrying the rare concern he had always reserved for her.
“How are you feeling?”
Helena didn’t answer.
She just shifted slightly, trying to sit up.
Damian frowned and immediately reached out to support her.
“Dr.
Adler told you to rest,” he said quietly.
Helena ignored him.
Once she was sitting comfortably, she lifted her eyes towards him.
“Did you really marry her?” she asked.
The question was quiet —but direct.
Damian looked at her for a moment before giving a nod.
“I did.”
He didn’t dodge it.
He didn’t make up any story.
He simply accepted what he did —as if he doesn’t regret any bit of it.
Helena’s fingers tightened around the bedsheet.
“Why?” she asked.
She simply wanted to know why.
Why had all the years of suffering, all the promises, and everything she had endured for her son apparently meant so little that he could make such a decision without hesitation?
Damian remained silent for a moment.
Then he looked directly into his mother’s eyes.
“You misunderstood, Mother,” he said.
“The marriage was never for love.”
His voice was calm and certain.
“I married her to defeat Charles Beaumont.”
He paused briefly and then added, “She is my way into the Beaumonts.”
That was all.
No elaborate explanation.
No attempt to justify himself.
Helena simply stared at him.
She had known her son for too long to believe there was nothing more behind his silence.
She studied his face … then his eyes.
Then every subtle shift in his expression that he might have overlooked.
Damian remained still beneath her scrutiny.
And for several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Helena’s gaze sharpened.
“If that’s so…” Her voice was low but cutting.
“Then she’s nothing but a tool for revenge, isn’t she?
You don’t care about her, do you?”
Damian paused for a second.
Then, without hesitation, he answered, “I remember what I promised you, Mother.”
Helena stared at him.
His answer was enough.
She nodded slowly.
Then, looking away from him, she said, “It’s late.
I’m still not feeling well.
You should return first, I’ll be fine on my own.”
Damian’s brows tightened slightly.
He didn’t seem convinced.
But after a moment, he nodded.
“Alright.” And then, he turned to leave.
Just as he stepped out of the room, Matilda rushed inside, as though she had been waiting outside all this while.
“Madam,” she called, her voice laced with concern.
“You’re finally awake.
We have gotten so scared when you fainted earlier.”
Helena heard her, but she didn’t respond.
Her gaze remained distant, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Shall I bring you something?” Matilda asked again.
This time, Helena frowned.
“No need, Matilda.
I have no appetite.”
“But, Madam, you haven’t had anything since afternoon.
Are you still upset with Sir?”
Helena didn’t respond.
But the deepening furrow between her brows was answer enough.
“Madam, you don’t need to be upset,” Matilda said quickly.
“Didn’t you hear Sir say just now that he didn’t marry her out of love?
He cares about you the most.
He wouldn’t do anything to disappoint you.”
Helena gazed at Matilda before slowly shaking her head.
“You just heard what he said, Matilda,” she said quietly.
“You didn’t see what he did.”
Matilda didn’t understand.
However, Helena did.
Maybe not completely.
But enough to know that even if her son had married the Beaumont girl for revenge, that wasn’t the whole story.
If it had been, he could have simply married her.
A simple wedding gown would have been enough.
There had been no need to make her wear a Callahan wedding gown.
And there had certainly been no need to make it such a grand, solemn ceremony.
A gown like that carried meaning.
A wedding like that carried meaning.
And if Damian had deliberately given her both…
How could there be only one emotion behind it?
Helena’s gaze darkened.
Something about her son’s actions didn’t fit the explanation he had given her.
And she intended to find out what it was.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
After leaving Helena’s room, Damian took the stairs to the third floor and headed toward his own room.
His steps were quiet but heavy against the polished floor.
As he drew closer to the door, he slowed.
Then he reached out and pushed it open.
But the moment the door opened, Damian froze.
His eyes immediately landed on Evelyn.
She stood inside his room.
And in her hand was —a lighter.
Its flame burned bright and steady, casting a small, flickering glow across her face.
For a second, Damian simply stared at it.
The flame danced dangerously close to her.
His expression changed.
“What the hell are you doing?” he growled.