Chapter 22
1102 Words
The morning sunlight crept through the blinds, soft and golden, stretching across the hardwood floor of Rhea’s apartment. For a moment, as she lay in bed with the sheets tangled around her legs, the world was quiet. Peaceful. Too quiet.
She sat up slowly, eyes scanning the room.
He was gone.
There was no trace of Damian left. No footsteps. No half-empty glass on the counter. The throw blanket she had offered him was neatly folded on the arm of the couch. Everything was back in its place, except for the storm sitting quietly in her chest.
She let out a breath and pulled herself out of bed. Her head was still clouded from the night before. The way he had stood in her living room like he didn’t belong. The way he had hesitated at her doorway, soaked from the rain, looking almost unsure of himself. And most of all, the way he hadn’t said a single word before leaving.
He didn’t even knock on her door to say goodbye.
Which was good. Better, actually. She didn’t want him to stay. She didn’t want his presence lingering here, softening her edges.
She had a job to do. And letting Damian Cole into her space was not part of the plan.
By the time she reached the office, the rain had stopped but the sky was still a blanket of gray. The city looked tired. Everyone inside the building moved a little slower. Even the air felt heavier than usual.
“Morning, Rhea,” Catherine said from the HR desk with her usual brightness.
Rhea offered a polite smile. “Morning.”
“Just a heads-up, Cole’s asked for you in a meeting. Camden acquisition.”
Rhea’s fingers tightened slightly on her bag. That was big. The Camden project was massive. Controversial. The kind of deal that could make headlines if it was handled poorly.
She took the elevator in silence, the buzzing fluorescent light above her flickering faintly. Her thoughts kept circling back to last night. Not the rain or the awkward quiet, but the way Damian had looked at her. Like she had cracked something open in him without meaning to.
The elevator chimed.
The moment she stepped out, her inbox pinged with a message.
From: Damian Cole
Subject: Camden Briefing
Conference Room 2B. Now.
Of course. No greeting. No explanation. Just now.
She walked into the room with her head high. Naomi Lancaster was already there, lounging with her arms folded and a perfectly bored expression on her face.
“Rhea,” she said with a nod that didn’t reach her eyes. “Surprised you’re early.”
Rhea didn’t take the bait. “I’m never late.”
Others trickled in, including a few board members and legal reps. And then Damian walked in, a folder tucked under his arm, sleeves rolled, face unreadable.
“We’re going ahead with Camden,” he said, wasting no time. “It’s high-risk, high-reward. We’ll need to be airtight on both ends. Rhea, you’re leading internal strategy and analytics. Naomi, you’ll manage external negotiations and media.”
Naomi tilted her head. “That’s interesting. So I’ll be working under her?”
“No. You’ll be working with her,” Damian replied without looking at her.
The next half hour passed in tense exchanges, planning, projections, and timelines. Naomi kept throwing small jabs disguised as questions. Rhea answered every one with calm precision. By the end of the meeting, it was clear to everyone in the room that Rhea had more control over the plan than Naomi liked.
As people began to leave, Rhea tried to make her exit quickly, but Damian stopped her near the door.
“Can I speak with you?”
She turned to him, voice even. “Here?”
“Walk with me.”
They walked down the corridor, the click of their shoes the only sound for a moment. Damian paused near a quiet corner.
“I wanted to thank you. For last night.”
Rhea looked at him carefully. “You didn’t stay long.”
“I shouldn’t have stayed at all.”
“Then why did you?”
He hesitated, his expression unreadable.
“Because I didn’t want to leave you in the rain.”
She didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t know what to say, but because she was afraid of what she might say if she let herself speak freely.
“You make things difficult sometimes,” he added quietly.
“Maybe you’re not used to people who don’t bend for you.”
There was a flicker of something—almost a smile, almost a sigh.
“That’s probably true.”
She looked up at him, eyes steady. “Is there a point to this conversation, Damian?”
He was quiet for a second.
“Naomi is going to test you. She wants this deal for herself.”
“I figured as much.”
“I want you to push back.”
Rhea narrowed her gaze slightly. “Are you telling me that as my boss, or as someone who showed up at my apartment last night with wet shoes and nothing to say?”
His eyes dropped to the floor for a second, then back up. “I’m telling you that as someone who trusts your judgment.”
The words were unexpected. So simple, but they landed like a stone in a still lake.
She didn’t respond. She just turned back toward the hall and walked away without another word.
Back at her desk, Rhea opened the Camden files on her laptop. Charts, summaries, reports. She scrolled through them slowly, until a tab caught her eye—an archived section, buried deep.
She clicked it open.
There it was.
A scanned file dated twelve years ago. A signature in ink. One she recognized.
Richard Cole.
Her heart stopped.
The document linked Richard Cole, Damian’s father, to an acquisition strategy that had triggered a series of collapses across smaller firms in the region—including her father’s.
Her fingers hovered over the mouse. Everything inside her stilled.
This was it.
The missing piece.
She closed her laptop slowly and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were wide open, but her thoughts felt like they were drowning.
Damian’s father had been behind it all.
And now Damian, unknowingly or not, had handed her the very thread she needed to unravel everything.
Still, part of her mind wandered back to his voice from earlier.
“I trust your judgment.”
Rhea blinked.
She couldn’t afford to let that matter.
But suddenly, for the first time, it did.
- Writer
