Heir In The Shadows

EPISODE 3

Shadows of Betrayal

The place is discreet—a dimly lit hotel suite, too polished for a simple fling. Damon has chosen it carefully, but not carefully enough.

Eli lounges on the bed, shirt half-unbuttoned, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Damon slips inside quietly, tossing his jacket over a chair. His smile is both guilty and hungry.

Damon (whispering, as he leans in to kiss Eli):

“You always make me feel alive. With Jax, it’s… different. He’s too guarded. Too perfect. But you—”

Eli (smirking, tracing a finger down Damon’s jaw):

“—I make you forget.”

Their kiss deepens, slow at first, then reckless. The weight of secrecy makes every touch burn hotter. Damon’s hands roam with urgency, as if he’s desperate to feel wanted by someone who isn’t watching him so closely.

But Eli isn’t blind. He pulls back just long enough to search Damon’s eyes.

Eli:

“You keep coming back, but I still don’t get it. Why risk everything? Jax treats you like gold.”

Damon laughs softly, a bitter edge behind it. He runs a hand through his hair, pacing for a second.

Damon:

“Because gold isn’t enough. He’s got secrets—I can feel it. The way he carries himself, the way money just… appears. He’s not just some fighter. He’s loaded. And if I play my cards right—” (he smirks, leaning back toward Eli) “—maybe I’ll get more than just his affection.”

Eli stiffens, but Damon’s mouth silences him again, dragging him back into heat. Their intimacy grows rawer, needier—Damon straddling Eli, shirt slipping off, whispers between kisses.

But what Damon doesn’t know—what neither of them know—is that a tiny pinhole camera, hidden in the smoke detector above, records every moment.

In a darkened room elsewhere, one of Jax’s men watches the live feed. He notes the time, the words, the movements, cataloguing it all.

And somewhere, miles away, Jax sits in his own apartment, pouring himself a glass of bourbon, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

He already knows.

Not just about the infidelity.

But about Damon’s greed.

Now he has proof.

...

The Silent Betrayal

The apartment door creaked open. Damon stepped inside, smelling faintly of whiskey and someone else’s cologne. His smile was tired but rehearsed.

“Sorry, babe. I was with Eli. Lost track of time.”

Jax looked up from the couch, his knuckles still bruised from the fight. His expression was warm, almost tender, as though nothing in the world could shake his trust.

“Eli, huh?” His tone was smooth, steady. He leaned back, letting Damon drop a quick kiss to his lips before heading toward the bathroom.

The water hissed on. The shower curtain drew shut.

Only then did Jax move.

He rose with deliberate slowness, padding across the floor like a predator conserving its energy. His laptop was waiting—sleek, fingerprint-locked. With a single press, the screen came alive, revealing a hidden folder.

Inside: the footage.

Damon’s laughter filled the speakers. Eli’s hand brushing over his arm. Their mouths colliding in a kiss too eager, too practiced, for it to be mistaken as a mistake.

Most men would break. Smash the laptop. Storm into the bathroom. Demand answers.

Jax just leans back, a slow smile tugging at his mouth.

Because now, he doesn’t just suspect. He owns the truth.

As he watches Damon’s laugh flicker across the grainy screen, something inside him twists. He remembers the nights he rearranged fights just to make it home in time for Damon’s birthday. The mornings he cooked breakfast though he barely slept. The expensive gifts, the vacations, the little luxuries Damon never even had to ask for.

Jax has always provided. Always made sure Damon had everything. Always poured what little time he had into him.

So why wasn’t it enough?

For a moment, Jax’s smile fades. His reflection in the laptop screen looks almost… lonely.

When Damon’s voice called from the shower—“Jax? You coming in?”—Jax closed the laptop, his expression already softened into the perfect mask of a lover.

He walked toward the bathroom door, his smile sharp in the dim light.

“Yeah, babe. I’m coming.”

Behind him, the laptop light blinked once, recording still running.

Jax wasn’t just a fighter. He was already several moves ahead.

---

The Masked Lover

The steam curled out of the bathroom, thick and heavy. Damon’s voice was soft, almost coaxing.

“Jax… come here.”

When Jax stepped inside, Damon was waiting beneath the spray, water running over his skin. He reached out, pulling Jax close with a smile that carried guilt hidden in its corners.

Jax let himself be pulled in, pressing his body against Damon’s. His arms wrapped around him, strong, steady, protective. Damon sighed with relief, as if he’d been forgiven without ever having confessed.

“You’re so good to me,” Damon murmured, lips brushing Jax’s shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”

Jax kissed him then—slow, deliberate, the kind of kiss that said nothing but promised everything. His hands trailed over Damon’s back, holding him tighter, drawing him deeper into the lie.

Damon melted into it, eyes closed, believing the safety of Jax’s embrace. He thought the water was washing away the evidence of Eli’s touch.

But Jax knew better.

His fingers slid up to cup the back of Damon’s neck, firm but gentle. “You’ll always be mine,” Jax whispered, voice low, soothing.

Damon nodded against his lips, whispering back, “Always.”

Jax smiled, letting the kiss deepen, his touch lingering with a tenderness that would leave Damon convinced of his devotion.

But in Jax’s mind, the images of Damon and Eli kissing replayed vividly—burning into his memory alongside the recording secured on his laptop.

He kissed Damon harder, almost hungrily now, not out of need but out of victory. Because every sigh, every moan, every declaration Damon gave him in that shower…

was already tainted.

And Jax loved it that way.

When Damon finally pulled back, breathless, Jax stroked his cheek, gaze soft, hiding the storm beneath.

“Don’t ever doubt how much I love you,” he murmured.

Damon smiled, guilt momentarily forgotten. “I know, Jax. I love you too.”

The shower kept running. The steam grew thicker.

And Jax held him close, the perfect lover…

while inside, he was already tightening the noose.

...

Morning in the Apartment

Sunlight slanted through the blinds, cutting golden lines across the polished floor. The apartment was quiet, except for the soft hum of the city below.

Jax sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, knuckles still faintly bruised, hair damp and messy. He traced his fingers absently over the laptop on the nightstand—the file from last night still open, the evidence of Damon’s betrayal glowing softly on the screen.

Damon stirred behind him, pulling the sheets tighter around his bare shoulders. His hair was mussed, eyes half-lidded, lips curling in a sleepy, affectionate smile. “Morning,” he murmured.

Jax looked back at him, expression soft, almost tender. “Morning,” he replied, voice low, even.

Damon stretched, rolling onto his side to press a kiss to Jax’s shoulder. “You slept well?”

Jax’s smile was controlled, carefully neutral. “Like a baby.”

Damon nuzzled closer, still blissfully unaware. “You didn’t wake me in the middle of the night… again,” he teased lightly.

Jax let a small chuckle slip. “I had… other things to do.”

Damon raised an eyebrow, playful, leaning back on one elbow. “Other things?”

Jax’s gaze flicked to the laptop for just a heartbeat before returning to Damon. “Yeah… things that needed attention.” He didn’t elaborate. He never did.

Damon leaned into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I love you,” he whispered, voice soft, genuine, trusting. “Even if you’re a little secretive.”

Jax’s chest tightened—not from guilt, not from love, not yet—but from the weight of knowing the truth. He had watched every stolen touch, every laugh, every kiss Damon had shared with Eli last night. And yet here he was, playing the perfect boyfriend, pretending, smiling.

“I love you too,” Jax said quietly, voice steady, the words both real and carefully measured. “More than you know.”

Damon relaxed, snuggling closer, still unaware of the storm simmering beneath Jax’s calm.

Jax allowed himself one small moment, fingertips brushing Damon’s hair as he considered his next move. He would play this carefully. Every lie, every act of tenderness, every stolen glance—it was all a game now.

A game he already controlled.

And yet, as he watched Damon sleep peacefully, Jax couldn’t stop the faintest flicker of… something—regret? Sadness? He pushed it down. Focus. Control. Leverage.

Always leverage.