After sending the messages, exhaustion washed over Brigitta. Somewhere in the haze, she heard the front door open.
The estate she was currently in had been bought jointly by Damien's and her families for the marriage, but Damien had almost never stayed there... be it before or after the wedding.
Tonight though, he had come.
A long while later, Brigitta left her bedroom to fetch her charger. Passing the study, she saw him sitting at his desk under the warm lamplight, typing something intently.
Hearing her, Damien looked up. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
Brigitta didn’t answer and was about to keep walking when he called her back.
His eyes looked tired as he removed his silver-rimmed glasses and rubbed his brow.
“About today… I’m sorry,” he said. “But you should never have paraded the wedding dress in front of her. Irene has never gone out of her way to provoke you. Why are you acting like that?”
Brigitta’s remained calm. “You’re mistaken. I went to deliver the dress. The wedding—”
Damien’s mouth curved in a humorless smile.
“The wedding’s off? You’re handing it over to her?”
“You already know? Good.”
Damien's eyes chilled, his tone laced with scorn. “So Irene was right—you’re playing games. Brigitta, you truly disgust me. Whose idea was this? You love me so much you’re desperate to marry me, yet now you’re giving the ceremony to someone else?”
She didn’t want to explain. “Believe what you want. I’ve told you.”
He cut her off, his voice turning cold. “If not for our families’ business arrangement, I would never marry you. Irene is pure and kind—don’t you dare touch her. You may have the title of Mrs. Arkwright, but don’t dream of earning my love.”
Her indifference seemed to irritate him further.
So, he got up, pulled her into his arms and sat her on his lap, gripping her waist tightly. “Or is this about earlier? You saw us and got jealous?”
Damien's hand slid downward while the other gripped her chin, forcing a kiss on her.
Brigitta shoved him away. “Don’t touch me!”
She stood up from his lap, wiped her lips and didn't want him to touch her. Just thinking of Damien and Irene in bed that afternoon made her stomach turn.
Damien paused for a moment, then sneered: “Playing hard to get? Such a trivial trick.”
Brigitta sighed. She didn’t want to argue more and just wanted to leave.
As she reached the door, his voice followed her. “That little Thalasson Project expedition you’ve been dreaming about—it’s finally open for applications again after five years. I’ll be working late, sleeping in the study. Don’t disturb me.”
Her step faltered, but she said nothing and left.
Back in her room, Brigitta immediately logged into the expedition’s official site. Within minutes, she posted the announcement: this year’s team was now assembling and applications from foreign enthusiasts were closed.
***
The next morning, Brigitta was yanked out of bed by a rough hand. She opened her eyes to find Damien looming over her, red veins spidering in his gaze. He was clutching her phone.
“How did you get a spot in the Thalasson Project?”
She frowned. “Why are you looking at my phone? Let go of me!”
He threw the phone onto her. “It wouldn’t stop ringing. I went to turn it off—and found an endless stream of emails! You stole Irene’s spot, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t!”
“You’re lying!” His grip tightened until she hissed in pain. “I told you last night and now you magically have an invitation—while Irene is suddenly out. You expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?”
He continued, “I never realized you were this manipulative. Three days before our wedding and you’d run off to join some expedition just to spite Irene? Give her back her place.”
Brigitta almost laughed. Fate had a cruel sense of humor—making it seem as though she were the manipulative one, when she knew exactly who had been doing the real damage.
She calmed herself down and said, “I didn't take her spot and don't look at my phone again.”
Damien released her, pulling a tissue from the box to wipe his fingers as if touching her had dirtied him.
Brigitta closed her eyes. This Damien was exactly the same as in her past three lives—meeting her only with hostility.
He stared at the silent Brigitta for a long moment, then said coldly, “You'll regret this.”
And with that, Damien strode out, slamming the door behind him.
