SWNOVELXO Chapter 27: Chapter 27 – The Ghosts She Never Spoke Of
It began with a message.
A small white envelope on the hallway console, slipped beneath the front door while the penthouse slept.
No name. No seal.
Serena found it at dawn, barefoot and sleepless, wearing one of Damon's shirts as she padded out to make tea.
She stared at it for a long time before opening it.
Inside was a photo.
Faded. Old.
But the face was unmistakable.
Hers.
At sixteen.
Eyes too wide. Smile too forced. And behind her—him.
Her blood turned to ice.
She hadn't thought of Marcus in years. She'd buried that chapter so deeply she sometimes wondered if it had all been imagined. But no hallucination could develop film.
The message scribbled on the back in red ink was simple:
> "Does he know the truth?"
She pressed a hand to her chest.
It felt like her lungs were trying to collapse.
---
Damon was still asleep.
So she walked, alone, into the cold morning air. Wrapped in silence, memory, and fear. She found herself down near the sculpture garden on the lower estate level—an overgrown corner that had once been beautiful but now lay tangled in thorns and shadows.
Just like her past.
She sat on a stone bench and let her mind unravel.
Marcus.
God, how young she'd been. How foolish. He had been the first man to tell her she was beautiful like it was a secret. He had known exactly which lies to tell and how softly to say them.
And when he left her—
He didn't just break her heart.
He used it.
Blackmail. Photos. The fear of her dreams being stripped before they had a chance to bloom.
She'd buried it all.
Burned the letters.
Changed her name.
Rewrote the narrative.
And yet…
Elira knew.
Somehow, Elira had found the one piece of her Serena had vowed no one would ever see.
---
She didn't cry.
Not until Damon found her.
"Serena," he said gently, kneeling in front of her. His eyes scanned her face, instantly alert. "What happened?"
She opened her mouth—but nothing came.
He reached for her hands.
They were trembling.
"I'm not who you think I am," she whispered finally.
"You're exactly who I think you are," he replied without hesitation.
Her throat closed.
"I did things when I was younger. Trusted people I shouldn't have. I let someone… use me. And when I left that life, I promised myself I'd never look back."
"You don't have to."
"But it's coming for me anyway."
Damon's grip tightened.
"I don't care what your past looks like, Serena. I only care what we build from it."
Her eyes met his.
Wide. Drenched in disbelief. "What if I'm not strong enough?"
His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing away the tears.
"You are."
"How do you know?"
"Because I see you," he said. "Even the parts you don't show me. And nothing Elira digs up will change that."
---
That night, she let him hold her longer than usual.
They didn't make love.
They didn't need to.
The intimacy was in the quiet.
The way he brushed her hair back.
The way she buried her face in his chest and finally allowed herself to break.
And as she drifted off to sleep, he whispered something against her temple:
"I've fought wars for men with empires. I'll fight hell for the woman who reminds me I still have a heart."
---
Far across the city, Elira stood on a balcony, sipping champagne.
She stared down at the man beside her—Marcus—older now, crueler, with a hunger in his eyes that had never faded.
"She doesn't know you're alive," Elira murmured.
Marcus smiled.
"She will."
And Elira turned to face him fully, her voice low and lethal.
"Don't disappoint me, Marcus. I only bring ghosts back when I know they'll ruin the living."