A Conversation With No Masks /Or So It Seems.
The last of the wine sat untouched between them as the soft hum of the restaurant faded into the background. Tyler eats her meal gently while Damian who seemed not to have that much of an appetite suddenly leaned forward, elbows resting lightly on the edge of the table, his expression quiet but intent.
"Tyler," he said slowly, his voice lower now, gentler.
"Mm!" Tyler answered as she looked up innocently at him with her doe like beautiful eyes.
"We're a couple now, right?"
She looked up at him, eyes wide, unsure where he was headed.
"I want transparency between us," he continued. "Real transparency. No masks. If there's anything, anything at all you're going through, I want to know. I want to get to know you more, I want to know what you think, your favorite color, your weird childhood stories, your fears your family, everything Tyler.
I want to be the kind of man you can talk to. About anything. Everything."
He reached out, brushing his fingers lightly over hers.
"Can we do that?" he asked.
Tyler nodded. "Yes," she said, softly.
But he didn't look entirely convinced.
"I just," he paused. "I don't want to feel like you're hiding something from me."
At that, her smile twitched small, tight, practiced. She knew exactly what this was about: the odd tone in his voice, the shift in his eyes.
The phone call.
Of course he suspects something. Not everything, but something.
So she leaned into the lie like silk.
"I'm not hiding anything," she said gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's just, I'm in a bit of a situation. Nothing serious, I promise. I was handling it before your call came in. Then I got so flustered about meeting you tonight, I just hit pause."
She smiled again, this time a little nervously. "But I'll take care of it. Really. It's no big deal."
Damian relaxed slightly, though his eyes still lingered on her a moment longer than usual.
"I'm sorry for the surprise call," he said at last. "Truth is, I wanted to see you tonight because I'm leaving tomorrow."
She blinked. "Leaving?"
"Back to California," he said. "Just for a while. I have to check in with the board, handle a few internal messes. But I wanted one more evening with you before I go."
Tyler froze mid bite. Her fork hovered in the air, forgotten. Her big doe like eyes shimmered, and within seconds, the water pooled, threatening to spill.
"Why so soon?" she whispered. "We just started, everything. It's been less than a week."
He opened his mouth to explain but she wasn't done.
"Please don't go yet," she said, voice rising a pitch, trembling like a child's. "We're just beginning. I want to do well as your girlfriend, I am trying."
Her hands curled into her lap, twisting the hem of her skirt.
"Look at me, Damien. I wore this for you. I've never dressed like this before. I'm changing. For you. I really, really like you." she said in a little girls voice.
A single tear slid down her cheek. Then another.
And Damien jaw dropped, he is actually not used to seeing a girl cry, but turns out he is dating a cry baby.
"I've never felt like this before in my life," she whispered. "Please don't run away from me."
Damian's jaw slackened. He was completely unprepared for the emotional ambush. Well, maybe he'd seen women cry, sure on red carpets, at farewell galas, during messy breakups. But never like this.
Never like her.
He was still fumbling for something comforting to say when she suddenly stood up.
Before he could ask what was wrong, she had rounded the table, and without hesitation, slid into his lap.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried into his shoulder as though she were clinging to something fragile. Something about to disappear.
Her voice came out muffled. "Please don't go. I don't want to be alone again."
Damian sat motionless, arms raised halfway, stunned. The scent of her perfume faint jasmine and something warmer floated between them. Her body trembled against his.
And then, slowly, his arms settled around her waist.
He held her.
"Alone?" Damien's brows lifted as he looked into her tear-streaked face. "What do you mean by alone? What about your family? Don't you have one?"
"I do," Tyler replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, trying to collect herself.
"Then, where are they?" he asked, his tone gentle, but there was a subtle edge to it curiosity sharpening into concern.
She hesitated, gaze lowering.
"We're in, some kind of situation," she said before her mind could stop her. "And I'm trying to save them."
The moment the words left her lips, she froze.
Damien leaned forward slightly, his expression tightening. "A situation? What kind of situation would make an entire family rely on a fragile little girl such as you?"
His tone wasn't condescending, just confused. But it stung.
Tyler's eyes flicked up to his, blinking rapidly as she realized how much she'd just revealed.
"I,I didn't mean it like that. It's nothing," she backtracked quickly, her voice uneven as she stutters.
"There it is," he said quietly. "You're doing it again."
She stilled.
"Hiding something from me," Damien continued. "Tyler, whatever this is, whatever you're carrying, you don't have to carry it alone anymore. You said it yourself, we're in this together now. You've got a boyfriend. A capable one at that."
He gave her a small smile, trying to lighten the tension.
"So talk to me."
She didn't answer right away. Instead, her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress, twisting it into nervous little spirals. Her expression was lost in a storm of thoughts, weighing truths she could never say out loud.
Q
Just as Tyler parted her lips to respond maybe with a joke, maybe something braver her phone buzzed sharply against the tabletop.
The sound sliced through the moment like a blade.
She flinched, visibly. Her shoulders tensed, her eyes dropping like a curtain falling on a stage.
Damien's gaze followed hers to the screen, but before he could ask anything, Tyler was already on her feet. The motion was too fast, too anxious. Her chair screeched against the floor as she stood. And with trembling hands, she slightly snatched the phone.
She didn't speak.
With her thumb, she unlocked the screen.
A video.
No words. No context. Just a single, silent message.
She pressed play. And then, the air left her lungs.
The blood drained from her face.
The luxurious din of the restaurant fell away and the warm candlelight dimmed into nothingness. The music vanished. Her world was reduced to a flickering screen in the palm of her hand.
Her mother and brother.
Caged.
Metal bars surrounded them like cold fangs. Concrete walls boxed them in, bleak and suffocating. The video appeared to be shot from an angle above, like a surveillance feed clinical, distant, deliberate.
But that wasn't the worst part.
No.
What made Tyler's stomach drop and her heart stall was the figure moving in the corner of the frame; a massive lion. Muscles rippling under golden fur, it paced restlessly just outside the gate. Its tail flicked with irritation. Its eyes never left the cage.
Predator. Prisoners. The threat was not implied.
It was real.
Tyler's hand flew to her mouth, a sharp, strangled whimper escaping her lips before she could stop it. Her entire body went stiff, frozen by the horror of what she'd just seen.
Damien was already rising, concern slicing through his calm exterior like lightning cracking open a sky.
"Tyler?" he asked, voice low but urgent. "What's going on?"
But she didn't answer.
Couldn't.
She staggered back a step, mind unraveling.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her throat constricted. The taste of panic coated her tongue like metal. She grabbed her purse with the instincts of someone who wasn't thinking anymore, just desperate.
And then she ran.
Bolted.
Heels clicking against the marble floor, sharp as gunshots.
"Tyler! Wait!" Damien called after her, his voice catching somewhere between confusion and alarm. His chair tipped slightly as he stood fully, watching her storm toward the exit, dark curls bouncing, green dress swaying like a blur in the candlelight.
But she didn't turn back.
Didn't even glance over her shoulder.
Because in that moment, Ana Ross wasn't pretending to be Tyler Ross anymore.
Whatever impression anyone have of her; the quiet girl with big glasses and bigger secrets,
No.
In that instant, all of it fell away. She was just a daughter. Just a sister.
Just a terrified girl staring down a nightmare.
All she could think about or feel, breathe was her family.
Their faces behind bars.That lion.Their fear.Their danger. Her failure.
Damien stood frozen for a second too long, every instinct in his body telling him to chase her. To go. To not let her disappear like that. His heart was already halfway out the door.
But just as he took a step.
"Sir," a low voice said behind him.
Eric.
Like a ghost appearing from the shadows, calm as ever, but this time his face was tight with unease.
Damien turned, still half moving, wild energy in his limbs. "What?" he said, voice clipped.
"You should let her go," Eric said carefully. "She'll need her space."
Damien hesitated, one heartbeat, two.
He looked toward the door.
Then back at Eric.
And despite every instinct screaming at him to follow Tyler, to be the man she needed in that moment, he stopped.