Episode Thirteen: Damage Control
1190 Words
The house became chaos after that.
Not loud chaos.
Worse.
Organized chaos.
The kind driven by people in expensive suits speaking in calm voices while everything quietly burned underneath.
By noon, security staff moved constantly through the hallways.
Phones rang nonstop downstairs.
Every television displayed some variation of my ruined life.
And somewhere inside the middle of all of it—
A board of billionaires was apparently preparing to announce I was dating Damian Vale whether I agreed or not.
I sat in the upstairs lounge staring blankly at the news.
“Elena Reyes remains at the center of the Vale family controversy—”
Click.
Mateo muted the television aggressively.
“You need to stop reading comments.”
“I wasn’t reading comments.”
“You had the face.”
Fair.
I leaned back against the couch tiredly.
“I miss when my biggest problem was overdue rent.”
Mateo snorted softly.
“I miss when rich people didn’t know we existed.”
Honestly?
Same.
For a while neither of us spoke.
Sunlight poured through the giant windows while the massive house stayed unnaturally quiet around us.
Too polished.
Too controlled.
Nothing like home.
I stared down at the tea Mrs. Greene had practically forced into my hands earlier.
I still wasn’t used to people taking care of things before I asked.
Or before I noticed they needed doing.
That kind of attention felt dangerous somehow.
Mateo looked toward me carefully.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“At least you’re honest.”
I let out a weak laugh.
Then sighed heavily.
“I don’t know what the right decision is anymore.”
That was the truth.
Before the threats, refusing had felt obvious.
Now?
Everything felt complicated.
Because Damian was right about one thing—
The media wasn’t slowing down.
If anything, it was getting worse.
Mateo leaned forward slightly.
“You don’t owe these people anything.”
“I know.”
“You don’t.”
“I know.”
But knowing and feeling were different things.
Because every hour this scandal grew larger, more people got dragged into it.
Mom.
Mateo.
Hospital staff.
Patients probably recognized my face by now.
My entire life had become public property in less than a week.
And somehow Damian looked just as trapped inside it.
That part bothered me more than it should have.
Footsteps interrupted my thoughts.
I looked up automatically.
Damian entered the lounge wearing another dark suit.
Of course.
Apparently billionaires changed clothes every three hours.
His expression looked colder today.
More distant.
Business armor fully back in place.
Which honestly annoyed me a little after last night.
Not that I cared.
Obviously.
Mateo immediately straightened beside me.
The hostility between them now felt almost routine.
Damian glanced briefly at the muted television.
“Security removed three people from the front gate this morning.”
My stomach tightened.
“Reporters?”
“One reporter. Two online streamers.”
“Streamers?” Mateo repeated in disbelief.
Damian looked deeply unimpressed.
“One attempted to climb the outer wall.”
Rich people really lived differently.
I rubbed my forehead slowly.
“This doesn’t even sound real anymore.”
“No,” Damian agreed quietly. “It doesn’t.”
Silence settled briefly.
Then he looked directly at me.
“The board meeting ended.”
Something about his tone made my chest tense immediately.
“And?”
“They want a public appearance tonight.”
Absolutely not.
“No.”
“They think visibility helps stabilize the narrative.”
“I genuinely do not care what they think.”
A faint flicker of irritation crossed his face.
“I know that.”
“Then why are you here?”
Because that was the real question now, wasn’t it?
Why was he still trying?
Damian held my gaze for a long second before answering.
“Because they’ll move forward without us if we don’t control this ourselves.”
Us.
There it was again.
That accidental team language.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Mateo stood immediately.
“My sister isn’t becoming some PR puppet.”
Damian stayed calm.
“She already is.”
That hit harder because it was true.
I looked away first.
The silence afterward stretched awkwardly.
Then unexpectedly, Damian sighed.
Actually sighed.
Like a tired human being instead of a billionaire machine.
“The board leaked the relationship rumor.”
My head snapped toward him instantly.
“What?”
Mateo swore loudly beside me.
Damian’s jaw tightened slightly.
“They believed public attachment would soften the backlash against the company.”
My stomach turned.
“They started this?”
“Partially.”
“Partially?”
“The hospital incident accelerated it.”
There it was.
The reminder.
The beginning of everything.
For a moment anger flared hot in my chest again.
“You publicly humiliated me.”
“I know.”
God.
There were those two words again.
Always honest.
Always impossible to fight against properly.
I hated it.
Mateo pointed at him accusingly.
“You keep saying that like it fixes things.”
“It doesn’t.”
No defensiveness.
No excuses.
Just truth.
The honesty knocked some of the anger sideways before I could stop it.
Damian looked back toward me carefully.
“But I’m trying to stop this from becoming worse.”
I laughed once under my breath.
“That ship sailed days ago.”
“Yes.”
The calm agreement caught me off guard again.
He really didn’t try to paint himself as the hero.
Interesting.
Dangerous.
I stood slowly from the couch.
“So what exactly happens at this appearance?”
“A charity gala.”
Of course it was.
Rich people truly solved every crisis with formal events.
“You attend together,” Damian continued. “Photos. Short statement. Then leave.”
“Like a hostage exchange.”
“That’s surprisingly close.”
Mateo looked horrified.
“You cannot seriously be considering this.”
“I’m considering survival.”
The words slipped out before I could soften them.
Because that’s what this had become.
Not romance.
Not business.
Damage control.
For all of us.
Mateo’s expression fell slightly after that.
Because he understood too.
I hated that he understood.
The room stayed quiet for several seconds.
Then Damian spoke more carefully.
“If you agree, the board backs off your family.”
I frowned immediately.
“And if I refuse?”
A pause.
Too long.
That told me everything.
Cold spread slowly through my chest.
“They’ll keep pushing,” Damian admitted quietly.
Rage hit instantly after that.
Not at him specifically.
At all of it.
“At some point,” I snapped, “does anyone in your world stop treating people like collateral damage?”
The words landed hard.
Damian went still.
Really still.
And suddenly I knew I’d hit something deeper than intended.
His expression changed almost invisibly.
Not anger.
Pain.
Real pain.
Then it vanished beneath control so quickly I almost imagined it.
Almost.
When he finally spoke, his voice sounded quieter.
“No.”
That single word settled heavily between us.
Because somehow—
It didn’t sound like agreement.
It sounded like regret.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD