Chapter 2 - The Sound of Silence
Time seemed to freeze in that sprawling, shadowed bedroom. My lungs refused to draw breath as I hovered in the doorway, my fingers gripping the carved wooden frame until my knuckles turned stark white. Every survival instinct I possessed screamed at me to run forward, snatch Lila from the mattress, and flee the estate before the monster woke from his trance.
Yet, Damian did not move.
His gaze, usually sharp enough to carve through steel, softened as it rested on the small, pink hearing aid glowing behind Lila's soft brown curls. He looked down at the tiny hand resting over the erratic rhythm of his poisoned heart. For months, the doctors had told him his nerves were frayed, his chest constricted by toxins that defied standard medicine. Yet, beneath Lila's palm, the jagged spikes of his agony seemed to smooth out, replaced by a strange, grounding warmth.
"Lila," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper as I stepped across the threshold. "Sweetheart, come to Mommy. Now."
Lila didn't hear the words, of course. But she felt the vibration of my voice through the floorboards and turned her head, her big hazel eyes blinking innocently. Instead of obeying, she tilted her head, patted Damian’s chest twice like she used to do when calming her stuffed rabbit, and then signed hurt? using her small fingers.
Damian swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. His voice, when it finally broke the heavy silence, was a raspy gravel slide. "She... she speaks with her hands."
"I am so sorry, Mr. Volkov," I stammered, rushing forward and scooping Lila into my arms, clutching her tight against my chest as I backed away, bowing my head low. "She’s deaf. She didn't mean to trespass. She wandered off from the kitchen. Please, don't hurt her. Fire me, throw me out into the rain, do whatever you want, but leave her alone."
I expected the roar of a wounded lion. I expected him to summon Viktor, his hulking head of security, to drag us out into the alley.
Instead, Damian shifted against the silk pillows, his dark eyes tracking every protective movement I made. A bitter, self-deprecating smile touched the corners of his pale lips. "Do I look like a monster who preys on children, Mrs...?"
"Elena," I supplied quickly. "Elena Vance."
"Elena," he repeated, tasting my name on his tongue as if it were a rare, unfamiliar spice. He looked back at Lila, who was happily signing good boy to him with a gap-toothed grin. A sound that might have been a chuckle escaped his chest, immediately turning into a sharp cough that made him wince. "Your daughter has more courage than my entire inner circle. None of them would dare touch me right now—partly out of respect, mostly out of terror."
"She doesn't know terror," I said softly, adjusting Lila's cardigan. "She only knows kindness."
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Damian stared at the spot on his chest where her hand had just been, the phantom warmth still lingering against his skin. "Kindness," he murmured, the word sounding foreign in his vocabulary. He looked back up at me, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip. "Don't fire her. In fact... bring her back tomorrow."
Before I could process the command, a heavy knock sounded at the door, and Viktor pushed his way in, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw me holding Lila in the forbidden sanctuary of the boss's bedroom.
