Chapter 24 – Shadows of the Heart
Chapter 24 – Shadows of the Heart
Aurora leaned against the marble counter of the Foundation’s kitchen, staring blankly into a steaming mug of coffee. Luca had left her at the door with a lingering glance, a touch to her waist that sent her heart racing and her mind spiraling. She hadn’t slept—again. And not because of the Foundation’s rapidly expanding projects or the press who still buzzed around her family’s legacy.
It was the dream.
Damon.
The way his hands had curled around her hips, how his lips traced the curve of her neck. The way he whispered her name—not in anger, not in pain, but in longing. That deep, aching sort of longing that echoed the emotions she tried so hard to bury.
She could still feel it on her skin, even now, with morning light filtering through the blinds.
A throat cleared behind her. She jumped.
"You okay?" Caleb asked, stepping into the kitchen. He looked like he hadn’t slept either.
Aurora shook herself out of it. "Yeah. Just...tired."
Caleb studied her a little too closely. "You know, for two people who claim to hate each other, you and Damon both seem haunted these days."
She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.
"We have a big donor lunch in two hours," Caleb reminded her. "And press outside again. They’re starting to dig into why we’re not living in the Rivera estate."
"Let them dig," Aurora muttered. "They won’t find anything real."
"You sure?" Caleb raised a brow. "Because the truth looks a lot like heartache."
---
Damon stood on the balcony of his penthouse, dressed in a tailored black suit, sipping dark espresso. The skyline offered no comfort today.
He hadn’t told anyone about the dreams—he didn’t need to. Celeste had already noticed the change.
"You barely touched me last night," she said quietly, appearing behind him.
Damon stiffened. "Sorry. I was...thinking."
"About her?"
He turned to face her. "About work."
Celeste narrowed her eyes. "You flinch every time someone mentions her name, Damon. You pretend to be angry, but it’s not anger that keeps you up at night. It’s guilt. Or worse—desire."
He didn’t answer.
Celeste crossed her arms. "I need to know what this is. Are we even real? Or am I just a distraction?"
Damon looked away. "I don’t know."
---
At the Rivera Foundation luncheon, the grand hall buzzed with the rustle of champagne glasses and the hum of elite conversations. Aurora stood near the main stage, dressed in a sleek red gown that turned heads. But her gaze was locked across the room.
Damon.
He entered like a shadow with eyes of ice. He wasn’t here for press or for philanthropy—he was here because Celeste was one of the keynote speakers.
They hadn’t spoken in weeks. And now, seeing him across the room, her stomach twisted. He looked devastatingly sharp, but something in his face told her he wasn’t sleeping either.
Celeste reached his side, her hand sliding into his. It was a possessive gesture, meant for Aurora.
Luca arrived a moment later, wrapping his arm casually around Aurora’s waist. Damon’s eyes flicked toward them.
The tension was electric.
Celeste leaned into Damon and whispered something that made him laugh. The sound scraped against Aurora’s chest.
Luca leaned close. "Want to leave?"
Aurora nodded. "Let’s take a walk."
Outside, the gardens were dimly lit, quiet.
"You know, I meant what I said the other night," Luca said. "You don’t have to keep punishing yourself over a past you didn’t cause."
Aurora looked up at him. "But I did love him. And I hate that I still do."
Luca’s smile faltered but didn’t fall. "Then hate him loudly, but love yourself louder."
---
Inside, Celeste followed Damon into a quiet hallway after the speech.
"You can’t keep pretending she doesn’t matter to you. Not with that look on your face every time you see her."
"Then maybe I need to stop seeing her," Damon growled.
Celeste placed a hand on his chest. "Or maybe you need to stop lying. Not to me. To yourself."
Damon shook his head. "Aurora and I—whatever we had—it died the day my father nearly had her killed."
Celeste tilted her head. "Did it? Then why do you dream of her?"
Damon froze. "What did you say?"
"You talk in your sleep, Damon. I hear you. Whispering her name like it’s your last breath."
He backed away, shaken. "This was a mistake."
Celeste’s voice cracked. "You’re not angry at her. You’re angry at yourself. Because deep down, you still want her."
---
The next morning, a fire alarm blared through the Foundation.
Aurora raced into the main office, coughing as smoke curled from the server room. Emergency sprinklers had kicked in, but a wall of charred equipment told her everything she feared.
Their encrypted archives. The evidence against Gregory’s international backers. Gone.
Caleb appeared beside her, soaked and pale. "This wasn’t an accident."
"You think someone broke in?"
"No. I think someone inside helped them."
Aurora's hands shook as she turned toward the hallway. The press was already gathering outside.
"We’re compromised," Caleb whispered.
And just like that, the stability they’d begun to build cracked again.
---
That night, Damon sat alone, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Celeste had left after another argument. He hadn’t stopped her.
He stared at the photo still stuck beneath his desk glass—Aurora smiling beside her father on the steps of the original Rivera Foundation.
He didn’t hear Luca's footsteps until it was too late.
"You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid," Luca said, stepping into Damon’s office.
Damon stood. "You’re trespassing."
"Maybe. But you should hear this. That fire? It wasn’t just a random hit. Someone hired from inside Gregory’s old network did it."
Damon’s blood chilled. "You’re saying he still has people watching us?"
Luca’s gaze hardened. "I’m saying someone on the inside is feeding them information. Someone close to Aurora."
The realization was a punch to the gut.
And for the first time in weeks, Damon knew he had to see her again. Not to fight.
But to protect her.
---
Aurora stood in her apartment, staring at the red envelope that had been slid under her door. No stamp. No address.
Just her name.
Inside was a single photo.
A picture of her and Damon on the beach—taken years ago.
And a message written in bold black ink:
“You were never safe.”