Chapter 8
952words
Marcus cowered in the shadow of a Roman column, shaking violently.
"Burn you... burn you..." he muttered.
I slipped off my heels and padded barefoot across cold marble, silent as a stalking cat.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and opened the recording app.
"Uncle Marcus."
I spoke softly, using Elena's original voice.
Marcus froze mid-breath.
He slowly turned to see the black-clad figure standing in moonlight.
"It really is you..."
His teeth chattered. "You're not dead... the fire didn't kill you..."
"Why did you try to kill me?"
I stepped closer, my voice ethereal. "When I respected you so much."
"Respect? Ha!"
Marcus seemed triggered. He pulled himself up using the column, his expression morphing from terror to rage.
"Blame yourself! That foolish boy was ready to throw away his birthright for you! Opening some pathetic bookstore—willing to abandon everything the Sterling name stands for!"
"I couldn't let him destroy the family legacy! Couldn't let you destroy my meal ticket!"
He roared, murderous rage overtaking his fear.
"I set that fire! I had the doors locked! You should be ashes! How dare you return?!"
"I don't care if you're flesh or phantom! Die! Die again!"
He lunged at me like a rabid animal, trying to shove me over the terrace railing.
I'd anticipated this cornered animal would attack.
I dodged sideways, but his momentum—he was still a powerful man—slammed me against the railing.
I nearly dropped my phone.
At that critical moment.
"STOP!"
A thunderous roar split the air.
Damon burst from the hall.
Seeing the scene, his eyes blazed with fury as he charged forward and drove his fist into Marcus's face.
"Crack!"
Marcus flew backward, skull cracking against stone before he crumpled unconscious.
Damon stood panting, ignoring his fallen uncle, and seized my shoulders.
"Are you insane?!"
He shouted, eyes wild. "Why did you follow him? He's completely unhinged!"
I stared at him.
At this man who'd just thrown a punch to protect me.
"He's not mad."
I calmly pushed his hands away and held up my phone, its recording light still blinking.
"Damon, take me to the study."
"I have something you need to hear."
……
Second floor study.
The door locked from inside.
I placed the phone on the desk and pressed play.
Marcus's confession exploded through the quiet study:
"...I set that fire! I had the doors locked! You should be ashes!..."
Each word hammered Damon like physical blows.
His face drained of color, his body swaying as if about to collapse.
"This... this was just now..."
"This is the truth."
I watched his shattered expression and spoke quietly.
"Three years ago, there was no gas leak. No accident."
"It was your uncle who, to force you to inherit the family business, to transform you into a cold-blooded money machine, deliberately tried to burn your fiancée alive."
Damon gripped the desk with trembling hands, squeezing his eyes shut in agony.
"No... stop..."
"Why should I stop?"
I approached him slowly, my voice hardening with each step.
"Haven't you been desperate to know who I really am?"
"Damon, open your eyes and look at me."
Damon slowly opened his eyes, bloodshot and terrified.
He seemed to have guessed the truth but couldn't bear to face it.
I seized his hand, my cold fingers wrapping around his warm wrist.
"What are you doing?" He tried pulling away.
"Feel this."
I yanked him forward, pressing his hand against the spot below my collarbone, near my heart.
There, beneath the black velvet, was a hard, unnatural protrusion.
Damon went rigid.
His fingertips traced that hard lump.
Not bone. Not a growth.
Something foreign embedded there.
"Can you feel it?" I asked softly, cruel satisfaction lacing my words.
"What is this..." Damon's voice shook.
"Open it and see for yourself."
Damon's hands trembled violently as he fumbled with my collar.
The black fabric fell away.
Where smooth skin should have been lay a horrific, grotesque scar.
And in the center, embedded in angry red flesh, a deformed metal ring still gleamed coldly despite the fire's damage.
Half a melted platinum ring.
Fused into my flesh by infernal heat, grown into the bone beneath.
Damon's pupils dilated to pinpoints.
He recognized it instantly.
The engagement ring he'd purchased three years ago, the day before the fire.
That night, to surprise him, I'd secretly tried it on.
And had never been able to remove it again.
"Oh God..."
Damon released a broken sound of pure anguish.
He reached toward the ring embedded in my flesh.
But couldn't bring himself to touch it, his fingers hovering, trembling violently.
"That's... my ring..."
Tears fell in heavy drops onto the metal.
"Yes, your ring."
I stared at him, my eyes devoid of warmth.
"The fire was massive that night, Damon."
"It melted. Burned through my skin, seared my flesh, and finally fused with my collarbone."
"For three years, with every breath, every heartbeat, it has reminded me."
I seized his hand and pressed it hard against the hot metal, forcing him to feel the stabbing pain.
"You gave it to me."
"And you turned it into my eternal brand."
"Now, do you still need to ask who I am?"
Damon completely shattered.
His knees gave way, and he crashed to the floor before me.
He clutched my waist, burying his face against my scarred body, releasing gut-wrenching sobs.
"Elena... Elena..."
I looked down at this broken man kneeling at my feet.
Hell is empty.
All the devils are here.
And I had finally dragged one down with my own hands.
"I'm here."
I said softly, stroking his hair like one might pet a stray dog.
