The Wife He Never Meant to Love (Lila and Damon) novel Chapter 73

Chapter 73

Chapter 73

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After dinner, Lila stepped outside into the cool night air. The garden was bathed in silver moonlight, the scent of jasmine drifting on the breeze. She settled into a wrought-iron chair, the tonic the housekeeper had prepared resting lightly in her hand.

Her eyes drifted upward, toward the study room window. A soft light glowed inside. An idea flashed through her mind, mischievous and daring.

Rising, she made her way to the study door, clutching the divorce agreement in her hand. She knocked lightly. There was a grunt from within and the sound of movement against the door-but it was locked.

She turned to the housekeeper. “The key, please?” she asked.

The housekeeper handed her a small brass key without question.

Lila’s heartbeat quickened. She inserted the key, turned it, and opened the door.

Inside, Damon lay sprawled across the sofa, eyes closed. His posture was relaxed-or so it seemed at first glance.

Lila moved closer, her gaze fixed on his handsome face, the sharp lines of his jaw softened in repose.

“Damon,” she said quietly.

His eyes fluttered open, meeting hers. “What are you doing here?” he asked, still lying back, his voice calm but

cautious.

“I want you to sign something for me,” Lila said, trying to sound casual.

Damon slowly rose, moving toward the table. Lila noticed the blood on his back, the deep red staining the fine fabric of his shirt. His breathing was heavy, labored even.

When he seated himself, Lila handed him the papers.

“I saw a very beautiful property,” she began, her tone light, “so I wanted to buy it. I need you to sign it. No need to review it-I already asked Simon to check it for you.”

Damon’s eyes flicked to the last page. He looked back at her, his expression sharp.

“Your heartless, Lila,” he said, voice low but intense. “You don’t even ask if I’m okay.”

Lila’s gaze followed his, noticing the bloodstain again. Her voice was incredulous.

“Oh… are you okay? There’s a blood stain on your back.”

Damon laughed-deep, hearty, almost defiant.

“What is wrong with your brain?” Lila asked, incredulous.

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Without a word. Damon threw the papers onto the table, letting them scatter slightly. He leaned back, his gaze fixed on her.

“I will sign this,” he said, his voice steady, carrying both command and challenge, “if you please… and satisfy

me.”

Lila’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

The air between them was suddenly charged-heavy with unspoken words, lingering tension, and the dangerous pull of control and desire.

It was clear: with Damon, nothing was ever simple.

And tonight… he had made the rules.

Damon grinned despite the dull, burning ache spreading across his back.

“You’re really a filthy dog.”

Lila’s words struck harder than the whip had. She spat the insult at him and turned sharply toward the doorway of the study, her slippers sliding softly across the floor with each step. The faint shuffle of fabric against wood echoed in the quiet room.

Behind her, Damon tried to straighten.

The moment she reached the doorway, a sudden scrape of wood broke the silence.

Lila stopped.

Something wasn’t right.

She glanced back.

Damon was gripping the edge of the table, his knuckles pale as he tried to steady himself. His shoulders trembled, and his posture no longer carried the arrogant, immovable stance she was used to. Instead, he looked… unsteady.

Weak.

It was the first time Lila had ever seen him like that.

Before she could think, instinct pushed her forward.

“Damon-”

She rushed back in her slippers, just as his body swayed. Her hand caught his arm, steadying him before he collapsed completely. The moment her fingers touched his skin, she froze.

He was burning.

“God… you’re burning up.”

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Damon sank heavily into the chair behind him, eyes briefly closing as if the effort of standing had drained the last of his strength.

Lila placed the back of her hand against his forehead.

The heat startled her.

“You have a fever,” she said, concern threading through her voice. “And there’s blood on your back.”

Damon slowly opened his eyes and looked at her. Even now, that familiar stubbornness lingered.

“Go,” he muttered hoarsely. “You need to rest. You were just discharged from the hospital.”

Lila stared at him, disbelief flashing in her eyes.

“You have a fever,” she repeated. “You’re bleeding. And you didn’t even come down for dinner.”

Her gaze hardened as she leaned slightly closer.

“What are you trying to accomplish, Damon?”

The room fell silent. Damon didn’t answer, only stared back at her, the fever blurring his vision while the pain in his back throbbed beneath the torn fabric of his shirt.

Yet even through the haze, one thought remained clear.

He didn’t want her to see him like this.

Weak.

But it was already too late.

“I’m okay. Go.”

Damon pushed Lila’s hand away.

The motion was weak, but the meaning behind it was clear.

Lila stared at him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The study was so quiet that the faint ticking of the wall clock seemed louder than usual.

“Fine,” she said at last.

Without another word, she turned and walked out, her slippers brushing softly against the floor as she disappeared past the doorway.

Damon waited until the sound of her steps faded.

Then he let his head fall back against the chair and closed his eyes.

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The fever pulsed behind his temples. His back throbbed with every breath, the wounds from the whip burning beneath his shirt. Even sitting still felt exhausting.

Good, he thought bitterly.

At least she finally left.

Minutes passed.

Then the door opened again.

Damon frowned slightly but didn’t open his eyes.

Soft footsteps approached.

“Eat this and drink the medicine.”

Lila’s voice.

Damon’s eyes snapped open.

She had returned.

Lila sat down beside him and pushed a bowl of warm porridge toward him on the table. A small packet of medicine and a glass of water sat next to it.

Damon stared at the bowl, then at her.

“Lila… leave,” he said, his voice low, eyes closing again as if he didn’t even want to look at her.

“Oh?” Lila replied coolly. “Would you rather have Maddy take care of you?”

She folded her arms.

“Okay. I get it. I’ll call her.”

Before Damon could react, Lila picked up his phone from the table and placed it in his hand.

“Unlock it,” she said.

Her fingers wrapped around his hand, trying to press his thumb against the screen.

Damon’s jaw tightened.

“If you won’t leave me alone,” he muttered darkly, “I might bite you.”

Lila paused but didn’t let go immediately.

“Leave,” Damon added, his voice rough.

Lila slowly pulled her hand away.

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Chapter 73

She looked at him for a moment, something unreadable flickering across her face.

“Look, I’m just trying to help you,” she said quietly. “But it seems my kindness is unwelcome.”

She stood up.

Her slippers whispered softly against the floor as she turned toward the door.

“Fine.”

Without looking back, Lila walked out of the study.

Damon opened his eyes.

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His gaze followed her retreating figure-the slight slump of her shoulders, the quiet way she stepped out of the room.

The door remained half open.

The bowl of porridge still sat on the table beside him, steam slowly fading into the cold air.

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