Threads of power

Chapter 1 (Part 3&4)

Part 3: What Bleeds, Builds

Ava didn't flinch when Damien King sat across from her.

Most people would.

His presence was like winter pressed into a tailored coat—quiet, sharp, and cold enough to crack glass. But Ava had survived worse. She'd looked her trauma in the eye and didn't blink.

So this man?

Just another chapter.

He folded his hands and studied her. "Tell me the truth," he said. "Why Milan?"

She smiled tightly.

"You don't really want to know."

"Try me."


Flashback – Two Years Ago, India

She'd been 23 when she opened her first boutique in Delhi. A one-room mess of mannequins, dreams, and a borrowed sewing machine.

It was hers.

Until her uncle tried to "invest."

He'd cornered her one night. Hand on the sewing table. Voice too soft. Eyes too wrong.

"You're beautiful, Ava. You could be more than just a tailor."

She slapped him. Loud.

He laughed.

"No one will believe you. You want Milan? You need people like me."

She went home shaking. Threw up in the sink. Then packed everything she owned into a suitcase and left.

No goodbye. No apology. No second chance.

Just survival.


Present — Café, Milan

Ava stared at her espresso, voice low now.

"I came here because no one owned me here. Not yet."

Damien didn't respond. He just looked at her for a long time—like he saw something. Something he didn't want to understand. Something that made his jaw clench.

"You said 'not yet,'" he murmured. "So you think someone will?"

"No." Ava met his gaze. "But men like you usually try."

And then—she smiled.

Damien blinked.

And for the first time in years, his heart did something dangerous.

It stuttered.

Later That Day – Launch Party Chaos
Ava hadn't planned to attend the Clessidra Fashion Launch. But Priya had practically forced her into a gold silk blouse and heels, muttering about networking and destiny.

"Also," Priya added, grinning, "I heard Mr. Broody Billionaire might be there."

Ava rolled her eyes. "Why would I want to see his death stare again?"

But when she walked into the gold-and-white hall...

He was already staring at her.

And this time?

He looked angry.

Trouble Brews
She didn't know what went wrong.

One second she was talking to a potential sponsor—and the next, an older investor was leaning too close, whispering something in Italian that made her skin crawl.

Before she could react, a hand yanked the man back—Damien.

He didn't say a word.

He just punched the guy.

Right in front of everyone.

Gasps. Flashes. Voices rising. Security rushing.

And Ava?

Frozen.

Because for one second, just one stupid second... she felt safe.

Aftermath — Rooftop, Again
Damien stood at the edge, breathing hard. His knuckles were bleeding. Ava joined him in silence.

"You didn't have to do that," she said eventually.

"I know."

"Why did you?"

He looked at her then. Raw. Quiet. Something unfamiliar swimming in his eyes.

"Because you looked the way I used to look."

She swallowed.

"What way?"

"Like no one was going to save you."

The Almost-Kiss
The tension between them snapped like an overworked thread.

Ava stepped closer.

Damien's fingers brushed her wrist.

"I don't need saving," she whispered.

"I know," he said, breath shallow. "But maybe I do."

They were close now. Inches. Breaths.

Her lips tilted up.

"Is this your idea of flirting?"

"No," he murmured. "This is me losing control."

And then—

He leaned in.

So did she.

Their noses brushed. Mouths parted.

And then—

Ava pulled back.

Eyes hard again. Mask on.

"You don't get to lose control with me, King," she said. "I'm not your therapy."

She turned.

Walked away.

Left him staring.

Wanting.

✨ To Be Continued in Part 4: