Chapter 8 – Secrets and Surveillance
Elara woke before Damian.
Light spilled in through the penthouse windows, casting golden stripes across the sheets and across his bare back. She watched the rise and fall of his breathing, the muscles beneath his skin tight even in rest. Even asleep, Damian Voss was composed—controlled.
But now… she'd touched the side of him no one else had seen.
And it terrified her how much she wanted more.
She slipped out of bed quietly and wrapped herself in one of his crisp white shirts. The scent of him clung to the collar—dark, spicy, expensive.
The silence in the room was comforting. Until her eyes fell on the tablet Simone had given her earlier in the week.
A temptation she hadn't dared explore.
Now, curiosity won.
Elara padded across the floor, picked it up, and sank onto the velvet sofa. She tapped into the encrypted apps, mostly scheduling and files on board members. Corporate briefings. Legal memos.
Then she found something else: a locked folder.
"Archive D-17." Password protected.
Her fingers hesitated over the screen.
She knew she shouldn't.
But she'd already stepped into this world. She had every right to understand it.
"Elara."
She jumped, nearly dropping the tablet.
Damian stood in the doorway, a towel slung low around his hips, his voice cold and sharp.
"I was just—" she began.
He strode forward and took the tablet from her hands. His eyes weren't angry. They were… guarded.
"What were you looking for?" he asked quietly.
"Answers," she replied.
He looked down at the locked folder, then back at her. "Do you want the truth, or something that makes you feel safe?"
"I want everything, Damian."
He studied her for a moment. Then he walked to the corner table, placed the tablet down, and unlocked the folder with a biometric scan.
The screen flickered.
Files. Videos. Logs.
Then—photos.
Of her.
Years' worth. From university. From her first interview at VossTech. Even one outside the café the day Liam left her.
She stared, breath caught in her throat.
"You were watching me?" she whispered.
Damian didn't flinch. "I've had eyes on you since the moment you stepped into that interview."
Her mouth opened. Closed. "Why?"
"Because you were brilliant. Untouched by corporate corruption. And you didn't fawn over me like the others. I didn't trust it."
"And now?" she whispered. "Do you trust me now?"
Damian's voice was a blade. "I want to."
Elara stood, her pulse roaring in her ears.
"All this time," she said. "You say you don't do love. That you don't care. But you've been watching me—obsessing—for years."
"I don't obsess," he said flatly.
She walked toward him. "Then explain this."
His jaw tightened. "You were a variable. I needed to control it."
She stopped right in front of him. "And now?"
Silence.
Then he said, "Now… you're the only piece I can't control."
Her heart stuttered.
For Damian Voss, that was a confession. One no one else had ever received.
But she wasn't sure whether to feel honored—or terrified.
Later that day, Elara returned from a short meeting to find the penthouse eerily silent again.
Simone had sent her a note about a sudden board vote that Damian had to attend, so she assumed he'd be gone for hours. She poured herself tea and wandered toward the massive glass doors leading to the balcony.
That's when she saw the envelope.
It had been slid under the front door. No name. No seal.
She picked it up cautiously, heart already in her throat.
Inside were two photographs.
One showed Liam, standing outside the gates of VossTech, speaking to a man in a suit Elara didn't recognize.
The other showed Elara and Damian, through a telephoto lens, caught in an intimate embrace the night before.
Her hands trembled.
On the back of the first photo, there was a single line, handwritten in red ink:
"You were never his only game."
By the time Damian returned that night, Elara was pacing the floor, the photos laid out on the table like a crime scene.
He paused in the doorway. "Who sent them?"
"I don't know," she said, voice tight. "But I have a guess."
He walked over slowly, scanning the photos without surprise.
"You're not shocked," she accused.
"I expected this."
"You expected someone to stalk us and send me threats?"
He looked at her evenly. "You entered a world of enemies the second you married me. I've spent years cleaning up the messes others leave behind. You think Liam's just a bitter ex? No. He was planted."
She froze. "Planted?"
Damian exhaled slowly. "Liam works with Garrett Monroe. Rival CEO. The man who tried to buy out my company three years ago using illegal data leaks. Monroe wants access to our systems. You were a potential backdoor."
Elara stared at him. "You think I would ever betray you?"
"I think Monroe hoped you would. That's why Liam targeted you."
"And you let it happen," she whispered.
His silence confirmed it.
"You used me," she said, stepping back.
Damian's voice was low, controlled. "I protected you. Even before you knew it."
Elara turned away, the weight of it all pressing down like lead. "I don't know what's worse—that you watched me… or that part of me still wants to believe you care."
Damian didn't respond.
But when she left the room, he turned back to the photos on the table.
And for the first time, a flicker of real fear crossed his face.
Because the game was changing.
And someone had just moved first.