Damian refused to believe Sienna had attacked me. He dismissed the entire banquet hall incident with a wave of his hand.

"A reality show wants me to appear as Sienna's boyfriend. Thoughts?" He lounged beside me, idly flipping through a book.


"Sounds great," I replied as pain knifed through my stomach again. "Go for it."

His fingers stilled mid-page.

My persistent indifference finally ignited his simmering rage. He hurled the book aside and slammed me down against the sofa cushions. His eyes blazed crimson as he roared:


"Aurora! Do you honestly not give a damn?!"

"What the hell do you want from me? How long are you going to keep this up?!"


"Should I grovel at your feet? Is that what you want—me on my knees begging for forgiveness?!"

I lowered my gaze, forcing down the blood rising in my throat. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted?" My voice could have frozen hell.

Despite my resistance, he tore at my clothes, his burning kisses branding my neck.

I lay still as a corpse.

"Are you going to rape me?" I asked flatly.

He froze instantly.

After what felt like eternity, he rolled off me, each word ground between his teeth.

"Aurora Vance, for every ounce of pain you cause me, I'll return it tenfold. We'll stay locked in this hell together until one of us is dead!"

He stormed out, the door crashing behind him.

I finally surrendered to the pain, coughing blood onto the pristine white sofa cushion—a grotesque crimson flower blooming on virgin snow.

His silhouette paused in the doorway.

He stood there, frozen, for what seemed like forever.

But in the end, he walked away.

Damian's revenge came faster than I expected.

The next day, my mother's unfinished portrait vanished from my studio.

Hours later, Sienna updated her Instagram.

There was my painting. Caption: "He gave it to me the moment I asked."

Blood roared in my ears as I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing.

I raced to Sienna's Malibu beachfront villa to find them tangled naked in bed.

What shattered my sanity was the "carpet" beneath them—my mother's portrait.

Damian casually shoved Sienna aside, rose from the bed, and lit a cigarette. His eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction.

"Well, well. Finally broke down and came to apologize?"

I stared at the defiled painting, nails cutting crescents into my palms, teeth grinding loud enough to hear.

"Damian said since your hands are shot and your art's worthless now, I might as well have it," Sienna purred, sitting up with a victorious smile. "Our rug's being cleaned, so we're using this instead. You don't mind, right, Lori?"

White-hot rage incinerated my last shred of reason. I snatched an antique vase from a nearby shelf and hurled it at Sienna's head with every ounce of strength I possessed!

"Burn in hell, you bitch!"

Sienna shrieked. Damian lunged forward, seizing my wrist. "What the fuck is wrong with you!"

"You deserve to die too, Damian! Both of you can rot in hell!" I screamed through tears, sinking my teeth into his arm like a rabid animal.

Damian froze momentarily. Then he grabbed my face, his roar tinged with something like pain.

"You're wishing me dead over a goddamn painting!"

His voice suddenly broke.

His voice seemed distant. My vision swam with crimson.

Blood erupted from my mouth again.

This time, spraying across his face.

The room spun wildly. I collapsed against him like someone drowning, vaguely hearing his panicked shouts through a fog.

"Aurora! Lori, what's happening? What's wrong with you!"

I'm suddenly so tired.

"Damian," I whisper, "we can stop torturing each other now."

"I'm dying."

His expression goes blank, brain unable to process my words.

Hot tears splash onto my face before understanding even registers in his eyes.