Chapter 45: Something Is Wrong

Night had already fallen over Ashford City.

Victoria drove along the elevated highway, one hand resting on the steering wheel as the city stretched endlessly around her.

Towering skyscrapers rose hundreds of floors into the night sky.

Their outer walls were covered in smart glass and glowing materials, while enormous advertisements and streams of information moved across the buildings.

Self-driving vehicles filled the roads below, moving smoothly through the city.

Above them, elevated magnetic trains raced between the skyscrapers, leaving glowing trails behind them.

Ashford City was alive.

Even at night, it never truly slept.

She pulled over at a high overlook and stepped out of the car.

The night wind carried the distant hum of the city. From here Ashford looked almost beautiful — alive, restless, and indifferent to the people moving inside it.

Victoria leaned against the side of her car and stared at the glowing skyline for a long time without really seeing it.

In her hand was a folded letter.

She had carried it since the night Daemon left. She had never opened it.

Some part of her already knew what it would say, and another part was afraid that reading the words would make the distance between them feel even heavier.

Tonight the fear lost.

She unfolded the paper.

Dear Victoria,

once a question that I couldn’t answer properly.

"Who is the person you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

At the time, I didn’t know how to put my feelings into words.

But if I had to answer you now, I wouldn’t need to think about it.

It’s you.

There are things about my power, my System, and my past that are still unclear. Kassia is still out somewhere, and there may be others who become connected to my life because of the path I’m walking.

I know that may hurt or confuse you, but please remember one thing—

None of it changes what I feel for you.

My System may bring people into my life, and my bloodline may reveal secrets I never expected, but my love for you is something I chose myself.

You are not someone fate forced me to love.

You are the woman I chose with my heart.

No matter how complicated my future becomes, I hope you’ll still be the one standing beside me when the journey finally ends.

I love you, Victoria.

I want you beside me.

I want to see you smile when we’ve had a good day.

I want to hear you complain when I do something stupid.

And when we’re old and our strongest days are nothing more than memories, I want to sit beside you and remember everything we survived together.

I don’t promise that our journey will always be peaceful.

But I can promise you this:

Whatever happens, the love I have for you is real.

You became more than my wife.

You became my home.

So if one day you look at me and ask that question again...

"Who do you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

I’ll give you the same answer.

You, Victoria.

And if I were given another life, another world, or another chance to choose...

I’d find you again.

— Daemon

Victoria’s vision blurred. She pressed her lips together hard.

"Fucking bastard..." she muttered under her breath. "Not only do you talk sweet, you write like this too."

A single tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, almost angrily.

"I still believe you’re doing everything for a reason.

But when you come home..." Her voice dropped into a quiet threat.

"I’m going to break your legs so you can’t go looking for other women."

She got back into the car and drove.

When she reached the house, something felt wrong.

The dining area light was on.

Victoria never left that light on during the day, and she hadn’t used the kitchen in two weeks.

The windows glowed with warm yellow light that shouldn’t have been there.

She tried the front door.

It was unlocked.

Her pulse jumped. She stepped inside carefully.

Daemon was sitting on the living room sofa as if he had never left. When he saw her, he smiled — the same calm, slightly awkward smile that always made her chest tighten.

Victoria rubbed her forehead once, hard, as if checking whether she was hallucinating.

Daemon stood up and walked toward her.

"It’s me," he said softly. "I came back. I thought you might be missing me."

Victoria didn’t think.

She closed the distance in two steps and threw her arms around him, clutching the back of his shirt. The tears she had held back on the overlook finally broke free.

"You idiot... I thought I was imagining you. You actually came."

Daemon held her tightly, one hand resting against the back of her head.

"I came," he murmured. "And I have a surprise for you."

She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes still wet. "What surprise?"

The house lights suddenly went out.

Darkness swallowed the room. Only the faint glow of the city leaked through the windows.

Daemon’s voice came from very close.

"It’s okay. We don’t need lights for this."

Victoria had imagined a hundred angry speeches for the moment she saw him again.

Standing in the dark with his arms still around her, none of those speeches would come out.

He took her hand and gently led her toward the stairs.

Victoria let out a short, breathless laugh. "What is the surprise? Tell me."

"You’ll see."

They walked up together. Daemon pushed the bedroom door open and stepped inside first.

The smell hit her first.

Then the mess.

Clothes were scattered across the floor. Empty containers and papers lay in careless piles. The bed looked like it hadn’t been touched in days.

The entire room felt abandoned and chaotic.

Daemon stopped.

"Why does your house look like a trash can?" he asked, genuinely confused. "There’s nowhere even to sit."

Victoria’s mind stalled for a second.

My house?

The words felt strange in her head.

Daemon continued, "This is your house. You always clean—"

"Stop."

Her voice was quiet but sharp.

Daemon turned to face her.

The room was almost completely dark. Only a thin slice of moonlight cut across the floor.

In that pale light Victoria could still see the outline of his face and the familiar shape of his shoulders.

He hadn’t removed his shirt. He wasn’t moving closer. He was simply watching her.

A cold thought slid into her mind without permission.

She stared at him for a long moment.

"Do you love Roxanna?"

The question hung in the dark between them.

Daemon’s expression blanked with pure shock.

"What? No. I only like you. She’s just a friend.

You’re my wife.

What kind of question is that?" He stepped closer, voice lowering.

"Come on. This isn’t the time to talk about other people."

Victoria didn’t move.

"Before that," she said, "I have a present for you."

A small red box appeared in her hand. She held it out.

Daemon took it, puzzled. "Can this wait until morning? Right now we—"

"I said open it."

The words carried a sudden pressure that made the air in the room feel heavier.

The entire house seemed to vibrate for half a second.

Daemon’s body stiffened. He opened the box.

Inside, resting on dark cloth, was a small dead insect.

Its legs were curled inward. The body was already dry.

Daemon’s face drained of color. Every muscle in his body locked at once.

He took an involuntary step backward, the open box still in his hand, eyes fixed on the tiny corpse as if it might move.