Tempted by My Best Friend’s Father

"Some temptations don't whisper your name… they wear your skin."

---

The penthouse no longer felt like home. It felt like a memory stolen and rewritten by hands that didn't belong to her.

Serena stood in front of the mirror that had once only held her reflection. Now it shimmered faintly, like a veil of heat above fire. Behind the glass, the other version of her—the mirror-Serena—watched with a hunger that made Serena's skin crawl.

She had Damon's kiss still clinging to her mouth. Still felt the shape of his hand on her spine. But now, in the reflection… she saw him kissing her again. Except it wasn't her.

It was her wearing a bolder smile. One without fear.

One without a soul.

Serena's knees weakened.

"No," she whispered. "You don't get to take that from me."

But the reflection leaned in, lips moving in sync—perfectly mimicked.

"I already did."

Then the glass shattered.

Not violently. Not loudly.

Like silence breaking open.

And the woman stepped out.

---

Damon was driving like he was chasing a ghost, wind screaming through the open window as rain began to spit against the windshield. His hands clenched the wheel. His mind echoed with Serena's voice, her tears, the look in her eyes the last time she'd whispered, "Don't pretend this wasn't real."

And now…

She wasn't answering her phone.

He knew what the mirror was. Or at least what it had become. But knowing wasn't enough anymore.

She needed him.

And if he was too late—

No. He wouldn't be.

Not this time.

---

Inside the penthouse, the two Serenas stood face to face.

Mirror-Serena tilted her head, amused, walking slowly—sensually—as if wearing Serena's body was a dress she adored.

"You still think he loves you because he held you once? Because he trembled when he kissed your throat?" Mirror-Serena whispered. "He loves what you remind him of. Not you."

"I don't need to be his past," Serena said fiercely. "I am his future."

Mirror-Serena grinned and stepped close—too close. Her fingers reached up, brushing real-Serena's hair from her face. They were identical. But one was cold and empty inside.

And real Serena burned.

"You'll lose him," Mirror-Serena said sweetly. "Because I'll give him what you're too afraid to."

Her mouth brushed Serena's ear.

"No hesitation. No boundaries. Just need."

---

The elevator dinged.

Damon stepped out, soaked in rain, breath shallow.

And standing by the fire… was Serena.

She turned slowly.

Wearing the red slip.

The one he'd imagined.

The one she'd never owned.

His heart hammered once.

"Serena?" he said, voice raw.

She smiled. "Miss me?"

He walked to her slowly, warily. There was something in her eyes—darker. Bolder. Her body was the same… but the way she looked at him—it wasn't Serena's way.

He touched her cheek.

It was warm.

But something inside him screamed.

"I've been waiting for you," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Let me show you how much."

Her lips met his—and for a moment, he forgot everything.

Until her hand slipped under his shirt…

And his scars burned.

Damon staggered back.

"Where's Serena?"

Mirror-Serena smiled, eyes gleaming with dark fire. "I am Serena."

"No," he breathed. "You feel like her… but you don't shake like her. You don't break when I hold you. You don't carry fire and fear together."

He looked past her—to the shadows.

And there she was.

The real Serena. Blood on her temple. Shirt torn. Hands trembling.

"Damon…" she whispered.

And he moved.

---

He shoved Mirror-Serena back hard. She hit the mirror behind her—and it cracked. She screamed—a sound like broken violins—and lunged.

But Damon was already there.

He caught real Serena in his arms, holding her like a man who had nearly lost everything.

"I'm sorry," he breathed against her hair. "I should've never left you alone with this."

Serena clung to him, fingers gripping his back, tears wetting his shirt.

"Don't let her take me," she choked. "Please."

He pulled her behind him.

"Don't worry," he said coldly, turning to face the imposter. "She doesn't get to take anything that's mine."

---

Mirror-Serena hissed, her form flickering now—cracking around the edges like porcelain under strain.

"I was made from your desires," she said, voice echoing with ancient echoes. "You fed me every time you touched her. Every time you wanted her."

Damon's jaw clenched. "Then maybe it's time I starve you."

He stepped forward, picked up the ceremonial mirror shard that had fallen.

And as Mirror-Serena screamed, he thrust it back into the frame.

A flash of light.

A pulse.

Then silence.

Just glass.

---

Later, Serena sat in Damon's lap, wrapped in a thick blanket, his fingers threaded in her hair as she trembled against his chest.

"I saw how she kissed you," she whispered.

"I didn't kiss her back," he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead. "She wasn't you. She never could be."

Her eyes shimmered. "She said you only loved the idea of me."

His hand cupped her face, tilting it up.

"I don't love the idea," he said. "I love the mess. The tremble. The bravery. The anger. The vulnerability. I love all of you."

Her lips parted with a broken breath. "Then don't leave me again."

"I won't," he said. "Not even if it kills me."

And when he kissed her this time—it wasn't out of fear. Or hunger.

It was devotion.

And in the mirror behind them—

Nothing moved.