Chapter 8 - The Verdict
Vanessa huffed in frustration, completely misreading the profound terror paralyzing the man beside her. She unhooked her arm from Damian and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her red stiletto impatiently against the marble.
"Damian! Are you deaf?" Vanessa shrieked, her voice shrill and grating. "I said get rid of her! If you don't throw this trash out right now, I'm packing my bags and leaving!"
Damian finally moved. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head to look at Vanessa. The dread that had just consumed him was instantly replaced by a cold, murderous fury. His eyes were dead, hollow, and terrifyingly dark.
Vanessa’s arrogant smirk faltered for the first time. She instinctively took a half-step backward, suddenly realizing that the deadly energy in the room was now pointed entirely at her.
"Damian...?" she whispered, her confidence shattering under his lethal stare.
Damian stepped into her personal space. He didn't yell. He didn't raise a hand. But the low, gravelly whisper that escaped his lips was far more terrifying than any scream.
"Vanessa," Damian said, his voice deadly quiet, echoing with terrifying finality. "Get out of my sight."
Vanessa blinked, her mind completely short-circuiting. She stared at him in utter disbelief. "What... what did you just say to me?"
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"You have two minutes," Damian growled, his voice dropping an octave, his face a mask of terrifying rage. "You will leave this house with nothing but the clothes on your back. If you are still inside these walls when the clock strikes, I will have my men drag you out by your hair."
👉 The pampered mistress had just lost everything in the blink of an eye, and the reality was about to hit her hard.
