THE HUSBAND THEY BULLIED, THE KING THEY FEARED

CHAPTER 8

WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE

“Penthouse Level.”

The elevator slowed to a stop and with a ding, the doors slid open, revealing the private foyer. Her mouth opened with awe. 

“What's… what is this place?” Elara asked as she stepped out of the elevator, her bag clutched close to her chest. “Where… where is this?”

Damien walked behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist as he gently led her forward. Elara's cheeks flushed as his strong hands pulled her forward towards the tall double doors at the end of the hallway. She looked up at his face, watching his expressions–he still hadn’t cracked a smile, the same cold indifference from when they were in the room still on his face. 

“The penthouse above the Grand Monarch,” Damien breathed as they stopped in front of the double doors. “Forbes mentioned this place to be the most exclusive and expensive in the state.”

Elara's grip on her bag tightened as her gaze swept over the abstract paintings lining the wall of the hallway. She recalled a Forbes feature of the penthouse earlier this year. But why had he brought her here?

Damien pressed the keycard on the scanner of the door and with a soft beep, it clocked open. “Come on in," he said as he pushed open the door and moved to the side. 

Elara’s lips tugged with an unsure smile as she stepped inside, the cold breeze from the air-conditioning welcoming her. She shuddered, rubbing her arms as she crossed the threshold. 

Her mouth dropped in awe as with the sight that greeted her. 

The marble floor glinted in the silver chandelier above, stretching to a floor-to-ceiling window draped with massive curtains. The afternoon sun poured its gentle rays into the room, and the vast room gleamed under the sunlight. The city skyline was displayed in all its glory, adding a calm aesthetic. 

Elara swallowed, her chest tightening as she moved slowly toward the window. Her heart beat faster, her lips quivering as she looked down. Below, people walked by and cars sped past the hotels, reduced to tiny figures–a striking contrast to the grandiose penthouse.  

“This…” she whispered under her breath as she turned to face Damien. "This… this can't be real." 

But Damien's expression didn't match hers. He just stood there, hands in pockets as he ran a finger above the island in the kitchen before blowing whatever speck he had picked up. His demeanor remained unchanged, as though this place didn't look like it was built for billionaires. 

“Why are you showing me this?" Elara asked, anxiety etched in her shaky voice as she walked toward him. “Why did you bring me here?" 

“It's for you," Damien replied simply without giving her a glance. 

She stared at him for a moment before letting out a short laugh of disbelief. “You're…you're joking,” she said, shaking her head. "Tell me you're joking.”

"I'm not,” he said with a small smile. 

Elara stood there, a confused expression on her face. 

“The penthouse is for you,” he repeated as he stretched his hands toward her, the keycard resting between his fingers. 

There was silence, and then–

“What's the catch?" she suddenly asked as her posture stiffened. 

Damien let out a low chuckle, almost amused. “There is no catch, Elara." 

“There… there has to be," she insisted as she glanced around nervously. “First, you rescued me from those men at the cemetery gate. Then you took me to a hotel and tended to me. And now… this?” She stretched her hand wide, shaking her head. "A penthouse that was listed as the most expensive by Forbes? I am…” Her voice lowered, softer now. "I don't deserve any of this. So there has to be a catch.”

Damien was quiet for a moment, his gaze unreadable. The keycard still in his hands, he leaned casually against the island, one strong hand resting on the edge as he looked at her. 

“I'm… sorry about your company."

Elara blinked, caught off guard. “...Why?” she asked softly.

He met her gaze, steady and calm. “Before everything happened, I was looking to invest in Veyra Holdings,” he said. “I admired how you built it from nothing. You took risks most people wouldn’t even dare to think about.”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. No one had spoken about her failure without mockery before.

“Consider this apartment,” he said, extending the keycard once more, “a small part of my investment in your comeback, Elara.” 

Her heart beat faster, her sweaty hands shaking as she stared at the keycard in his hands. No one had trusted her since her bankruptcy. Now here was a stranger, offering to help her pick the pieces of her life. 

She looked down at the keycard, unsure of the answer to give him. Despite his willingness to help, she still wasn't sure if she was to trust him. But the look he had in his eyes–sincere, almost reassuring. Maybe… just maybe…

“Okay," Elara said with a soft sigh as she collected the keycard from him. Her lips stretched with a warm smile. “Thank you." 

He nodded once. "If you need anything, call me. Also, I'll have the hotel attendants bring up some clothes to add to the little you brought with you.”

Elara blinked, surprised again. Wasn't he doing too much?

Damien, catching the expression on her face, chuckled and shrugged. “It's nothing." He walked towards the door. "Let's go.”

They walked out of the penthouse, Damien leading, and headed down the small hallway. Elara looked down at the keycard in her hands, her fingers brushing the silver logo engraved on it. She glanced back once, catching the faint glow of the silver chandelier as the door slowly clicked shut. 

For the first time in a very long time, she felt… seen. 

They finally reached the elevator and stopped. Damien was about to push the button when he saw it was already glowing. His face instantly fell into a frown and Elara caught the change in his expression immediately. 

“What.. what's it?" she asked. 

Damien paused for a second, his gaze never leaving the button. “Somebody's coming up," he answered, his eyes narrowing. 

"Did you order for food or–" 

“I didn't," Damien replied curtly. “Nobody's meant to come up here–”

Before he could finish speaking, the elevator chimed, the soft sound echoing through the hallway. Elara held her breath as the doors slid open, revealing three women inside. The strong scent of rich perfume hit her and she took a step back. 

“Welcome to my daughter's new…” the woman at the front began but then paused as she looked up at Damien. The smile she wore instantly vanished, replaced with a look of disgust. 

Elara looked at Damien. His calm, collected demeanor remained, but his gaze had gone icy cold. 

“You," the woman growled as she stepped out of the elevator. “What the hell are you doing here?"