Tempted by My Best Friend’s Father

It started with the security footage.

Damon hadn't meant for Serena to see it. He had checked the system that morning—just as a precaution. After what they had uncovered about the mirror, he wasn't willing to ignore any more signs. Not after Lina. Not after the photo.

He had been scrolling through the night recordings from the hall outside their bedroom when he froze.

2:14 a.m.

There she was—Serena.

Except… she wasn't in the bed.

She was standing in the hallway.

In front of the mirror.

Alone.

Barefoot, wearing the same white slip she'd worn to bed, but her posture was wrong—stiff, doll-like. Her arms hung at her sides, and her head tilted just slightly, as if listening to something only she could hear.

And then…

She smiled.

Not the Serena he knew.

No, this smile was vacant. Predatory.

And after a full minute, she stepped closer to the mirror and lifted her hand.

But the reflection didn't follow.

The Serena on the other side of the glass didn't raise her hand.

She stood still.

Expression blank.

Then, the reflection—not the real Serena—moved first.

Her hand pressed flat to the glass.

Damon stopped the footage. His heart hammering. Jaw tight.

What the fuck was that?

He turned off the monitor, breathing hard.

But when he looked up—Serena was standing behind him.

Wrapped in a long cardigan, her hair tousled from sleep.

"Damon?" she asked softly. "What are you looking at?"

He swallowed. "Nothing. Just checking the system."

Her eyes were gentle, but a sliver of wariness flickered in them. "Was it me?"

His silence told her everything.

She stepped closer, voice smaller now. "I… I had a dream last night. I thought it was just that. But—"

"What did you dream?" he asked sharply.

She looked down, arms wrapping around herself. "That I was outside the mirror. Or… inside it. I couldn't tell. Everything was silver. Frozen. My voice didn't echo. I kept calling for you. But I could see myself outside—in bed, sleeping beside you. Only it wasn't me. She wore my skin, Damon. But she wasn't me."

He stepped toward her immediately, cupping her face. "You're awake now. You're here."

Serena nodded slowly, but her voice cracked. "What if I'm not the one who woke up?"

---

Later that evening, they moved the mirror.

It took two security guards and Damon's own silent dread to lift the ornate frame and carry it to the basement—the one place in the penthouse untouched, unadorned, and sealed.

Damon didn't explain why it needed to be there. But Serena didn't ask.

She felt it too.

That whatever was inside the mirror didn't belong near the living.

They locked the door behind them. Bolted it twice.

And yet, that night, Serena still dreamt of silver.

---

The Dream:

She stands in a corridor of mirrors.

Each one is taller than the last. But none of them reflect her.

Instead, they show her moments. Intimate ones. Sacred ones.

The first mirror shows her sitting with Damon by the fire, wrapped in his arms.

The second shows her first kiss with him, in the rain, under the soft flicker of candlelight.

The third—

Her breath catches.

It shows her in Damon's bed, but she's not alone. She's asleep.

And the reflection of her stands at the edge of the bed, watching.

Not moving.

Just watching.

Serena reaches out to touch the glass—but her hand goes through.

And when she steps forward—

The mirror snaps shut behind her.

And the world goes dark.

---

She woke with a gasp.

Cold sweat. Bare skin chilled despite the blankets.

Damon sat upright in the bed beside her, already reaching for her. "You were dreaming again."

"I saw her," she said, voice trembling.

"Where?"

"In the mirrors. All of them. She's watching us, Damon. Our life. Our moments. She's memorizing me."

He held her tighter, pressing his lips to her temple. "You're not her. And she can't be you."

"But what if she doesn't want to be me?" Serena whispered. "What if she just wants you?"

The question hung between them like fog.

He didn't answer it.

He couldn't.

Because part of him was beginning to wonder:

What if the woman inside the mirror had loved him first?

---

The Next Day

Serena found the dress on her vanity chair.

It was her size. A deep, wine-red silk gown with no tag. One she didn't remember buying.

And pinned to the bodice, a single note in black ink:

"Wear this tonight. He'll remember."

Serena's blood ran cold.

She dropped the dress and ran to Damon's study.

When she held it up, his face turned to stone.

"That dress…" he murmured. "Lina wore it. Once. On the night she disappeared."

"I didn't buy it," Serena said. "I swear."

He took it from her hands like it might bite.

"You're not wearing this."

But that night, when he stepped out for a call—ten minutes at most—Serena found herself standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom.

The same mirror they had covered weeks ago.

Now uncovered.

Clean.

And the red dress was on her body.

She didn't remember putting it on.

She didn't remember removing the velvet cover.

But when she looked at the reflection…

It smiled before she did.

And then it whispered, lips not moving:

"He was always meant to choose me."