Chapter 12
334words
He'd watch me for hours, silent and brooding.
One day, he placed my reconstructed sketchbook before me.
"Tell me," he demanded, voice rough with emotion, "is this how it really was for you?"
My sketches left nowhere to hide—my soul exposed on paper.
Finally, we had our first honest conversation—raw, painful, necessary.
I broke down completely, years of pain pouring out in a flood of tears and accusations.
And he—finally—told me everything.
His family and Genevieve's were bound by an ancient, unbreakable covenant.
The terms required him to grant one unconditional request to their heir.
Genevieve had demanded my blood—the legendary "Moonlight Blood."
"I've hated every moment of this," he confessed, voice breaking. "I've loved you since that first day, Ophelia."
"My pride and duty kept me silent. I thought I was protecting you, but I was the one hurting you most."
After our confessions, Damian's phone rang—the family doctor, urgent news.
Genevieve was experiencing power backlash—chaotic energy surges threatening to spiral out of control.
Classic symptoms of a healthy vampire consuming blood that was never meant for them.
The report confirmed what Damian had suspected for years.
Genevieve's "illness" had been a complete fabrication.
Meanwhile, I made my own discovery within my silver box.
While cleaning it, I accidentally triggered a hidden compartment in the lid.
Inside lay a yellowed note written in blood—my parents' blood.
Their final message, hidden where only I would find it.
They revealed the truth about my "Moonlight Blood"—not a curse but a sacred gift.
I wasn't born to be a donor but an heir to ancient guardians who maintained balance between worlds.
My value wasn't in sacrifice but in power—the power to heal, to protect, to maintain peace between species.
I clutched their blood-written words, tears streaming down my face.
For the first time, I understood my true worth—not as a tool, but as a guardian.
