The Blind CEO's Contract Wife

Chapter Eleven

Victor’s POV

The news reached me ,and it hit me like a fist to the chest that Damien was alive.

Five long years of building, planning, manipulating, and positioning every piece exactly where I wanted it, only for someone to walk into my office and calmly inform me that my brother’s son had returned as if death itself had simply forgotten to finish the job.

The family had mourned him, they had held a small quiet gathering in his name.

I had played the grieving uncle so perfectly that sometimes I almost believed my own performance.

Now, standing inside my study with the morning light filtering through the tall windows, I stared down at the manicured garden below while anger coiled violently inside my chest.

Damien was not supposed to exist inside any of those plans anymore.

He had been disowned long before he disappeared. The family had already made peace with his absence, and I had stood quietly at the edge of that decision, whispering the right words into the right ears until everyone slowly turned their backs on him without realizing they were being guided.

Over time, the inheritance had slowly started drifting toward the only heir left standing.

My son Ronan.

I turned away from the window and walked toward the liquor cart resting near my desk. Slowly, I poured two fingers of whiskey into a crystal glass before lifting it into my hand, though I remained standing.

I was too restless to sit, everything I had spent the last five years building rested on one simple truthThat Damien Ashford was gone Dead and Forgotten.

And now that truth had suddenly been ripped away from me, causing the entire structure of my carefully arranged plans to tremble like glass under pressure.

He should have stayed away.

When rumors reached me that all the family inheritance will be given to him, I acted immediately.

The brake lines had been my idea.

Clean, Mechanical ,simple.

The kind of accident nobody questions because accidents like that happen every single day on crowded roads. A tragic mechanical failure. A terrible moment of bad luck.

Nothing suspicious,nothing personal.

I had paid a man I trusted, and that man had done exactly what I asked him to do.

The car lost control.and the crash happened.

But instead of dying, Damien survived.

The accident took his sight instead of his life.

Not what I wanted,but enough to weaken him.

Or at least, that was what I convinced myself to believe.

A blind man with the Ashford name still carried power. Still carried legitimacy. Still carried the birthright to everything my father spent his entire life building.

And that alone made Damien dangerous.

I slowly walked back toward my desk before setting the glass down carefully beside my phone.

Then I picked the phone up and scrolled toward Lizzie number a lady I sent to Damien house as a spy after hearing about his return.

The call connected after the second ring.

“Hello, sir.”

Her voice sounded cautious immediately.

“Hello, Lizzie,” I said calmly, my tone controlled and almost warm. “Tell me, what exactly have you been doing there?”

There was hesitation before she answered.

“Sir… I already tried something yesterday.”

My eyes narrowed slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“Yesterday, when Mr. Damien entered the mansion with his wife, I positioned myself on the upper landing and pushed one of the large planters from the top of the stairs. It should have landed directly on them.”

Silence filled the room for a moment.

I let it stretch deliberately.

“His wife pushed him away before it could hit him,” Lizzie continued nervously. “Nobody suspects anything. Everyone thinks it was just an accident.”

Slowly, I leaned back into my chair.

Interesting.

“Good,” I said calmly.

“I’m sorry it didn’t”

“Do not apologize,” I interrupted sharply. “Apologies waste time. What matters is that nobody suspects you.”

“Yes, sir.”

I rested one arm against the chair while staring through the window again. Outside, one of the gardeners carefully trimmed the edge of the rose bed with a pair of silver shears, moving slowly and precisely.

“I need you to do something else for me,” I said quietly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Bug the house.”

The silence that followed was immediate.

“I want access to every room Damien spends time in. His bedroom. His study. The sitting room. Anywhere he speaks freely.” My voice darkened slightly. “I want to know what he has been doing for the last five years. Who he has spoken to. What secrets he’s hiding.”

Because men like Damien never returned without purpose.

And that bothered me more than I wanted to admit.

A man who disappears for five years only to suddenly reappear with blindness weakness was never harmless.

Not Damien.

“What if he discovers the bugs, sir?” Lizzie asked carefully.

“He won’t,” I replied coldly. “And even if he does, you’ll make sure it never leads back to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

I slowly lifted the whiskey glass again before taking another slow sip.

“And Lizzie…”

“Yes?”

"Do not underestimate Damien.”

Because despite everything, despite the hatred growing inside me over the years, there was one truth I understood better than anyone else.

Damien Ashford was not stupid.

Not even close.

That boy had survived an accident designed to kill him, disappeared without a trace for years, then returned blind while quietly observing everyone around him.

That was not a weakness.

The call ended shortly afterward.

I placed the phone down carefully before leaning back against the chair in silence.

The room felt heavy except for the soft rain outside and the faint crackling sound of my cigarette burning slowly between my fingers.

Then my eyes drifted toward the large family portrait hanging across the wall.

The Ashford family Powerful, Respected,untouchable.

And every single one of them still believed Damien was the rightful heir to everything.

The thought disgusted me.

My son deserved that position now.

Ronan deserved it not Damien and never Damien

I slowly swirled the whiskey inside the glass while staring into the darkness beyond the window, my reflection staring faintly back at me through the rain-covered glass.

"Ah, Damien…” I muttered quietly,

smoke curling from my lips. “You should have stayed away.”

Because this time would make sure the job was executed.