MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

Elena's eyes swept over Damien, taking in every detail of his changed appearance. Her gaze lingered on the wheelchair, a flicker of something—surprise? pity? amusement?—crossing her face before she schooled her features into a mask of polite interest.

"My, my," she drawled, her voice a honeyed poison. "How the mighty have fallen. Tell me, Damien, is this a new fashion statement? Or perhaps a desperate bid for sympathy?"

Damien's jaw tightened, but his voice remained level when he spoke. "Elena. Still hiding behind false smiles and cheap perfume, I see. Some things never change."

Elena's laugh was like crystal shattering. "Oh, darling. Nothing about me is cheap, as you well know." She moved closer, her movements fluid and predatory. "But you... you've certainly seen better days. What happened?

Did someone finally clip the great Damien Durello's wings?"

"Spare me your faux concern," Damien retorted, his eyes flashing dangerously. "We both know why I'm in this state. Or have you conveniently forgotten your monumental failure two years ago?"

The smile froze on Elena's face. "Failure? I prefer to think of it as a... strategic retreat."

"Is that what you call it?" Damien's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I call it cowardice. You had one job, Elena. One simple task. And yet, here we are."

Elena's eyes narrowed. "One simple task? You underestimated Blake, Damien. We all did. And I wasn't about to throw my life away for your vendetta."

"No, you just threw away everything we'd worked for instead," Damien shot back. "Years of planning, of carefully laying the groundwork. All gone because you couldn't finish what you started."

A tense silence fell between them, the air crackling with unspoken accusations and barely suppressed rage. Elena was the first to break it, her voice deceptively light.

"Well, what's done is done. Water under the bridge, as they say." She moved to a nearby bar, pouring two glasses of deep red liquid. "Drink? It's a special vintage. AB negative, I believe. Your favorite, if memory serves."

Damien's nostrils flared, the scent of the blood stirring something primal within him. "You remember. How touching."

Elena handed him the glass, their fingers brushing for a moment. An electric current seemed to pass between them, a reminder of the passion that had once bound them together.

"To old times," Elena said, raising her glass in a mock toast.

Damien's lips curled into a bitter smile. "To consequences," he countered, taking a sip.

Elena settled into a plush armchair across from him, crossing her legs elegantly. "Speaking of consequences, how is the illustrious House Durello faring these days? I hear whispers, you know. Rumors of unrest, of challenges to your authority."

"Gossip and hearsay," Damien dismissed with a wave of his hand. "My house stands strong, as it always has."

"Does it?" Elena's voice was soft, dangerous. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like the great prince of Ancroft has lost his throne. Tell me, Damien, how does it feel to be... diminished?"

Damien's hand tightened on the arm of his wheelchair, his knuckles white with tension. "I may be weakened, Elena, but I am far from defeated. You'd do well to remember that."

"Oh, I remember many things about you, darling," Elena purred, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of desire and malice. "I remember your strength, your ambition. Your... passion." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you still have that fire, Damien? Or has it been extinguished along with your power?"

"My fire burns as bright as ever," Damien growled. "And when I regain my full strength—"

"If," Elena interjected smoothly. "If you regain your strength. That's not a certainty anymore, is it?"

Damien's eyes flashed dangerously. "When I regain my strength," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, "there will be a reckoning. For Blake, for those who've challenged me... and for you, Elena."

Elena laughed, the sound both beautiful and chilling. "Oh, Damien. Always so dramatic. But tell me, what brings you here tonight? Surely you didn't come just to reminisce about old failures and make empty threats."

"I came for information," Damien said, his voice hard. "About Blake. About his movements, his plans. I know you've been keeping tabs on him."

Elena's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "Have I? And what makes you think I'd share that information with you, even if I had it?"

"Because, my dear Elena," Damien leaned forward, his voice low and intense, "whatever game you're playing, whatever scheme you're hatching in that devious mind of yours, you know as well as I do that Blake is a threat to us all. He's a wild card, unpredictable and dangerous. And sooner or later, he'll come for you too."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Elena's face, quickly masked. "Perhaps. But why should I trust you? How do I know this isn't some ploy to regain your lost power?"

Damien's smile was cold and sharp as a blade. "You don't. But ask yourself this: can you afford not to work with me? The devil you know, Elena. The devil you know."

Elena stood, moving to the window. She gazed out at the city lights, her reflection a pale ghost in the glass. When she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "It was never supposed to be like this, you know. We were meant to rule together, you and I. The world at our feet."

"It still can be," Damien said, a hint of their old connection coloring his words. "Help me, Elena. Help me find Blake, finish what we started. And when it's done..."

Elena turned back to him, her eyes unreadable. "When it's done, what? You'll forgive my betrayal? We'll ride off into the sunset together?"

Damien's laugh was bitter. "Hardly. But we'll have a chance to reshape the world. Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

For a long moment, Elena said nothing. Then, with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries, she nodded. "Very well, Damien. I'll help you. But know this: if you betray me, if this is some elaborate trick, I'll finish what Blake started. Wheelchair or no wheelchair."

"Understood," Damien said, his voice hard. "Now, tell me what you know."

Elena's eyes narrowed, a predatory glint replacing the earlier feigned politeness. She circled Damien slowly, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor. "You know, darling, I've been wondering," she purred, her voice a silken trap. "What exactly happened to you? The great Damien Durello, reduced to... this." She gestured at his wheelchair, her lips curving into a mocking smile.

Damien's jaw clenched, pride warring with the need for allies. Finally, he spoke, each word seeming to cost him. "Blake happened."

Elena raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "Blake? The same Blake I supposedly failed to kill? Do enlighten me, darling. I'm all ears."

Damien's eyes flashed with barely suppressed rage. "He's become one of us, Elena. A vampire. But not just any vampire – he's... different. Stronger.

Faster. And his powers..." He trailed off, a flicker of genuine fear crossing his face.

"Powers?" Elena prompted, her curiosity piqued despite herself.

"Blood control," Damien spat the words as if they tasted foul. "He can manipulate blood, corrupt it. It's what's keeping me from healing, why my ice powers are... diminished." His hand clenched on the arm of his wheelchair. "Blood corruption, they're calling it. A new plague for our kind."

Elena's mask of indifference slipped for a moment, genuine shock registering in her eyes. "That's... impossible. I silenced him. I made sure of it."

Damien laughed bitterly. "Clearly not well enough. Your failure has cost us everything, Elena. Everything we worked for, everything we dreamed of – gone because you couldn't finish one simple task."

Something dark and dangerous flashed in Elena's eyes at his words. She stepped closer, looming over Damien. "One simple task?" she repeated, her voice low and deadly. "You arrogant fool. You have no idea what I've done, what I've sacrificed."

She turned away abruptly, moving to the window. For a long moment, she stood in silence, staring out at the glittering cityscape.

'He never saw me as an equal. Not even when we joined forces against a common enemy. To him, I was always just a pawn, a tool to be used and discarded. Never Rose's equal, never worthy of true respect. But now... now he'll see.

They'll all see.' she thought.

When she spoke again, her voice was distant, as if recalling a long-buried memory.

"Do you remember what you said to me, Damien? That night in Ancroft when everything fell apart?" She turned back to face him, her eyes blazing. "You called me the worst of the Shellys. Said I could never measure up to Rose, that I was a disappointment, a failure."

Damien's face remained impassive, but a flicker of recognition – and perhaps regret – passed through his eyes. "Elena—"

She cut him off with a sharp gesture. "No. You don't get to speak. Not now." Her lips curved into a cruel smile. "Because you see, darling, I've proven you wrong. Those dreams we shared?

The power we sought? I have it all now. And more."

Damien's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

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