Chapter 4 All for another woman
Elara's POV
He gestured for me to come down. That hand carried an undeniable command.
I looked at him, alcohol making my brain sluggish but also giving me unprecedented courage. I gripped the cold steel pole and took a step back.
"No."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
No one dared defy the godfather of the Montgomery family, especially when he was clearly angry. The armed men around us lowered their heads, even their breathing deliberately quieted.
Damian's eyes narrowed dangerously. He didn't waste words. With one long stride, he stepped onto the stage. His towering frame instantly cast me in shadow, that scent of gunpowder and fir washing over me.
"Elara, my patience has limits." His voice was low, barely containing its violence.
I tilted my head back, meeting his cold gaze.
He was afraid, wasn't he? Afraid I'd overexert myself, afraid something would happen to me in a place like this and damage his beloved woman's "spare parts." After all, the doctor had warned that this heart needed the most careful maintenance.
"Don't touch me!" I swatted his hand away.
But he gave me no chance to break free. His rough palm clamped around my wrist, the force nearly crushing bone. He yanked hard, and I lost my balance, crashing into his solid chest.
"Let go!" I struggled desperately, my fists pounding against his muscular frame, but it was like hitting a wall.
"Are you done throwing your tantrum?" He pinned both my hands behind my back with one hand, the other gripping my chin and forcing me to look up at him. His eyes were viciously dark. "Do you have any idea your body can't handle this kind of exertion? Did my words mean nothing to you?"
My body.
No. Vivian's heart.
A wave of grief and rage surged from the depths of my chest. The alcohol boiled in my bloodstream, severing the last thread of rationality. Five years of humiliation, degradation, and self-deception crystallized into one cosmic joke.
Eyes burning, I screamed at him, "I'm dying anyway! What does it matter if I let loose for once?!"
The moment those words left my mouth, the silence around us became absolute.
Damian's hand on my chin went rigid.
I saw clearly the crack that appeared in the violence in his eyes. Those ice-blue irises flickered with a confusion even he didn't recognize. His breathing hitched, the muscles in his chest tensing, and the hand restraining me trembled slightly.
He didn't speak immediately, just stared at me as if he'd never seen me before.
Looking at him like this, I suddenly wanted to laugh.
Did he feel guilty? Or did he think I was using death to threaten him, challenging his authority as the mafia godfather?
"What's wrong? Afraid if I die somewhere other than the operating table, your Vivian won't have a heart to use?" I laughed coldly, though tears betrayed me, falling onto the back of his hand.
That tear seemed to scald him. He released my chin abruptly.
But he didn't let me go.
The confusion vanished instantly, replaced by an even colder need for control.
"Shut up." His voice was dangerously hoarse.
The next second, the world spun.
He bent down and roughly hoisted me over his broad shoulder.
"Damian! Put me down! You bastard!" Hanging upside down over his shoulder, the alcohol churning in my stomach, I could only kick uselessly at his back.
He walked toward the exit as if he felt no pain.
"Let Elara go!" Marry rushed over from the booth, but two black-suited bodyguards in sunglasses immediately blocked her path.
"Damian, you can't do this to her!" Marry shouted after us.
Damian didn't even turn his head, coldly dropping a single line: "Watch her. If she brings Elara to a place like this again, I'll burn it all down."
He shoved me into the back seat of his bulletproof black Maybach. The door locked.
He slid into the driver's seat and floored the accelerator. The car shot into the night like an arrow.
The pressure inside the vehicle was suffocating.
I huddled in the corner of the back seat, watching the streetlights blur past the window, tears sliding silently down my face.
He didn't even ask why I was upset, why I'd been drinking. He only cared whether this body was damaged, whether next month's surgery could proceed on schedule.
The car tore through the streets and finally stopped at the gates of the Montgomery estate.
Damian yanked open the door and pulled me out. My legs were weak, and he half-dragged, half-carried me into the grand hall.
The hall blazed with light.
Before I could steady myself, a small figure came rushing down the stairs.
"You horrible woman!"
Caleb, in his pajamas, his little face flushed red. I instinctively reached out to hold him, thinking he was scared from waking up and not finding me.
But he charged straight at me and kicked my shin hard.
Already dizzy with alcohol, I lost my balance completely and fell onto the cold marble floor. My knees screamed with pain, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my chest.
"Caleb!" Damian frowned, reaching out to restrain his son.
"Daddy!" Caleb threw his arms around Damian's leg, pointing at me and shouting, his voice full of grievance and fury. "It's all because of her! Because you went looking for her, Mommy Vivian's heart hurt tonight. She was in so much pain she was crying, but she didn't dare call and bother you!"
My head rang with a hollow sound.
I sat on the floor, looking up at the son I'd carried for ten months.
The way he looked at me—like I was his mortal enemy.
"Mommy Vivian is so pitiful. Why do you keep running around making Daddy angry? You're doing it on purpose!" Caleb's childish voice echoed through the empty hall, each word a blade finding its mark in my heart.
"Don't you know how long Mommy Vivian suffered alone because she didn't want to bother Daddy? You're so mean! I hate you!"
I stared at him blankly.
This was the son I'd loved and protected with everything I had. I'd given up my career as a Top Jewelry Appraiser for him, endured Damian's cold violence for him, survived five years in this loveless family for him. I'd been running on empty for years—secretary to Damian by day, housewife by night, no time that was ever my own. I'd made his baby food by hand, stayed up whole nights when he was sick with fever.
And now he was scolding me for not quietly staying home and waiting to die, all for another woman.
I suddenly had no strength left even to explain.
The small flame of rebellion the alcohol had given me was extinguished completely by this cold water, leaving nothing but ashes.
I turned to look at Damian.
He stood there, towering over me, his black suit jacket long discarded, his shirt collar slightly open, revealing the vicious tattoos across his chest. His chiseled features looked particularly harsh under the crystal chandelier.
He didn't stop Caleb's unreasonable attack. He didn't help me up.
He just looked at me with that all-knowing, mocking gaze.
"Is this what tonight's little performance was about?" Damian's voice was arctic.
I froze.
"What?"
He looked down at me, his blue eyes filled with disgust and impatience. "You deliberately went to that club, deliberately made sure my men would notify me, all to force me back from the hospital, to make me abandon Vivian?"
I stared at him in disbelief.
In his eyes, my despair, my breakdown, my recklessness—it was all just a ploy for attention. He thought I'd done all of this simply to get him to notice me.
"Elara." He bent down slightly, his rough fingers gripping my chin and forcing me to meet his cold eyes.
"I warned you. My tolerance has limits." His voice dropped to a lethal whisper, carrying all the cruelty and warning. "Put away your pathetic little schemes for attention. Vivian's body can't handle any setbacks. If your tantrums cause her any harm..."
He paused, his gaze sharp as a knife.
"I'll make you regret every single choice you've made."
