SHADOWS FROM THE PAST
983 Words
Damian’s POV
The private jet landed smoothly, its engines humming as the sleek aircraft came to a stop. Damian stood near the black SUV, hands in his pockets, his usual composed demeanor in place.
Then, Lilith Wolfe descended the steps.
Her tailored emerald-green pantsuit fit her like a second skin, exuding power and control. The sharp bob framed her regal face, her red lips curving into a knowing smile.
“My darling nephew,” she purred, stopping in front of him. “You didn’t have to come all the way here to pick me up.”
“I wanted to,” Damian replied smoothly, taking her carry-on. “It’s been two years.”
Lilith sighed dramatically. “South Africa was draining. But I’m back now, and we have much to discuss.”
He led her toward the car, his mind drifting to the business empire he had built—one she had guided him through. She had been the one who encouraged him to buy Sinclair Enterprises. She had always known best.
Why would he ever doubt her?
Lana’s POV –
Lana had no business snooping.
But curiosity was a dangerous thing.
Sitting at Damian’s office desk, she noticed his iPad left unlocked. It was none of her concern, but then a picture caught her eye.
She stiffened.
It was her.
Three years ago. An NBA charity event. She was in the background, smiling, completely unaware that someone had captured her in the frame.
Her pulse pounded.
Why did Damian have this?
Her fingers hovered over the screen, swiping through the images. Some were from different angles, others zoomed in. The more she scrolled, the more a sickening thought crept into her mind—was he looking for Isla Sinclair?
No. He couldn’t know.
Could he?
She shut the iPad, her fingers trembling.
I need to be careful.
Flashback: The Woman Who Ruined Her Life
Lana had met Lilith Wolfe before.
Not in boardrooms. Not in business settings.
But in her home.
She had been eight years old when her father introduced Lilith to them, standing in their living room with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“This is my friend from Wyoming,” he had said, his hand resting on Lilith’s lower back.
Her mother had been polite, though her grip tightened around Lana’s shoulder.
Lana had sensed something was wrong but didn’t understand. Not until later that night, when she had wandered downstairs for a glass of water—only to see them together.
Lilith perched on her father’s desk, his hands gripping her waist. Their whispers were low, urgent.
Lana had frozen.
Her father was laughing with this woman, his face close to hers in a way he had never been with her mother.
Something cracked in her chest, but she turned and ran, pretending she had never seen it.
But it didn’t end there.
Years later, when everything fell apart, Lilith returned.
Lana had been watching from the family Mercedes. The tinted windows hiding her face from the world. She wanted to do something, help her mom from the humiliation but the driver locked her in as she watched her mom tremble in front of what used to he their own empire now being taken away from them.
Lilith stood at the top of the staircase, her expression as cold as ice.
“This is business,” she had said, her voice void of sympathy. “And you no longer have a place here.”
Her mother’s voice cracked. “Please—”
Lilith turned to the guards. “Throw her out.”
The flashing lights of the paparazzi outside made it even worse. Lana had wanted to scream, wanted to fight—but what could she do? It would have been even worse for her photos would have been published.
And then she had seen him.
Standing beside his aunt.
Damian Wolfe.
Watching.
Not stopping it.
Not helping.
And in that moment, Lana’s hatred for him was sealed.
Lana needed air.
The park was quiet, the sunset painting the sky in golden hues. She sat on a bench, gripping the edges, her heart still racing from what she had seen on Damian’s iPad.
“You look sad.”
She turned.
A small boy, no older than six, stood beside the bench, brown eyes full of curiosity.
Lana blinked. “What?”
The boy climbed up beside her, swinging his legs. “You look like my uncle when he thinks too hard.”
She let out a small laugh. “And what does he do when he thinks too hard?”
The kid grinned. “Drinks whiskey and says bad words.”
Lana smiled despite herself. “Sounds like trouble.”
Her phone buzzed.
She glanced at the screen. Damian Wolfe.
She groaned before answering. “What?”
“Bring me the Harding file.”
Her irritation flared. “Are you serious?”
“Do I sound like I’m joking?”
The line went dead.
Lana exhaled sharply.
Unbelievable.
Lana wasn’t ready to see him again.
She retrieved the file from the office, her frustration still simmering as she was driven to Damian’s penthouse.
The building screamed luxury. The elevator ride felt endless, the weight of her thoughts pressing against her.
When the doors finally slid open, she stepped into his world.
The penthouse was massive—floor-to-ceiling windows, dark leather furniture, a breathtaking city view. The air smelled of rich cologne and whiskey.
She adjusted the file in her grip and approached the door.
It swung open before she could knock.
And the file slipped from her fingers.
Standing before her, elegant as ever, was Lilith Wolfe.
For a moment, time stopped.
Lana’s breath caught.
Lilith’s red lips curved into a slow, demure smile.
“Well, well,” she murmured. “Who do we have here?”
Will Lilith recognize her? What will happen next?
- Writer
