HUSH

HUSH. Episode 11

The Raymond Group headquarters stood tall against the city’s glittering skyline, its glass walls reflecting the afternoon sun. Inside one of the executive conference rooms, luxury and power blended seamlessly. A long walnut table dominated the room, surrounded by leather chairs, while framed awards and photographs of the company’s milestones lined the walls.

Nathan Raymond and Victor Raymond lounged in their seats, cups of freshly brewed coffee resting before them.

A file labeled Annual Charity Gala lay open on the table, though neither man seemed interested in reading it.

Nathan flipped through a few pages before tossing the folder aside with a sigh.

“So,” he said lazily, “have you decided what you’ll be wearing to the gala?”

Victor smirked.

“My wife has already picked out three tuxedos. She’ll probably make the decision for me.”

The two men laughed.

Instead of discussing the company’s quarterly reports stacked neatly beside them, they drifted into conversations about luxury vacations, expensive watches, and the influential guests expected at the event.

Not once did they mention profits.

Not once did they discuss contracts waiting for approval.

After a moment, Victor leaned back in his chair and scoffed.

“You know what irritates me the most?”

Nathan raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“The old man.”

Nathan knew exactly who he meant.

“Father?”

Victor nodded.

“He acts as though Damian is the only person capable of running this family.”

Nathan let out a dry laugh.

“I’ve noticed.”

“He misses one dinner, and Father nearly turns the mansion upside down looking for him.”

Nathan swirled the coffee in his cup.

“If either of us disappeared for a week, he’d probably tell the butler to leave the door unlocked and wait for us to return.”

They both chuckled, though there was little humor behind it.

Victor’s expression darkened.

“I don’t understand what everyone sees in Damian.”

Nathan shrugged.

“He’s good at making himself look perfect.”

“Oh, please,” Victor scoffed. “He’s no saint.”

“He always has an answer for everything,” Nathan muttered. “Every family meeting ends with Father praising him as if the rest of us are invisible.”

Victor folded his arms.

“It’s exhausting.”

“The worst part?” Nathan continued. “Father trusts Damian with almost every important decision. Meanwhile, we’re expected to sit there and applaud him.”

Victor’s lips curled into a bitter smile.

“One day, that golden image of his will crack.”

Nathan looked at him.

“And when it does?”

Victor leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“We’ll make sure Father finally sees Damian for who he really is.”

The conference room fell silent.

Outside the glass walls, employees hurried through the corridors, carrying reports and discussing new projects that would shape the company’s future.

Inside, however, two senior members of the Raymond family had spent nearly an hour talking about everything except the business they had been entrusted to lead.

Unbeknownst to them, their envy was slowly blinding them to the very responsibilities that had earned Damian Theodore Raymond’s unwavering respect.

The night was unnaturally silent.

Dark clouds gathered above the sprawling Raymond estate as rain lashed against the towering windows of the mansion. Thunder rumbled through the sky, its deafening roar swallowed only by the heartbreaking cries echoing through the grand hall.

A little boy knelt on the marble floor.

No older than eight.

His tiny hands trembled violently, stained with streaks of crimson as tears streamed endlessly down his face.

“Mom…?”

His voice quivered.

“Dad…?”

Before him lay two lifeless bodies.

A man and a woman.

Their clothes were soaked in blood, their unmoving hands only inches apart as scarlet spread across the polished marble beneath them.

The little boy crawled forward, desperately shaking his mother’s shoulder.

“Mom… please wake up…”

No response.

His sobs grew louder.

“Dad! Please…”

Nothing.

The grand hall, once filled with warmth and laughter, had become a place of unbearable silence.

Behind the child stood Theodore Raymond.

The proud patriarch looked nothing like the commanding man the world feared.

His shoulders were slumped.

His eyes, usually sharp and unwavering, were clouded with grief as tears rolled freely down his weathered face.

He had lost his son.

His daughter-in-law.

The pain carved itself into every line of his face.

Beside him stood Eleanor, her trembling hand covering her mouth as she fought back sobs. Tears blurred her vision as she stared at the devastating scene before her, unable to find the strength to comfort either her husband or her grandson.

Little Damian continued crying, refusing to let go of his mother’s cold hand.

“No…”

His voice cracked.

“Please don’t leave me…”

The storm outside raged harder, lightning illuminating the blood-soaked floor for a brief, terrifying moment.

Then—

“Damian!”

His grandfather’s voice echoed into nothingness.

Everything around him began to blur.

The mansion…

The bodies…

The blood…

Even the cries…

They all dissolved into darkness.

Damian’s eyes flew open.

He shot upright in bed, breathing heavily.

His chest rose and fell in quick succession as beads of sweat clung to his forehead and trickled down the side of his face.

For a brief moment, the nightmare still felt real.

He instinctively glanced at his trembling hands.

Clean.

No blood.

Only silence.

He closed his eyes and released a long, controlled breath.

The fear that had gripped his heart slowly faded, his expression returning to its usual calm composure, as though the nightmare had never existed.

Turning toward the window, he noticed soft golden rays of sunlight slipping through the curtains.

Morning had arrived.

From downstairs came the comforting sounds of pots and pans clinking together, followed by the rich aroma of a homemade breakfast drifting through the house.

Fresh bread.

Fried eggs.

Brewed coffee.

The warm scent filled the room, replacing the lingering chill of his dream.

Damian swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there quietly for a moment.

His gaze lingered on the floor.

The nightmare had disappeared, but the memory behind it never truly did.

He drew another steady breath before rising to his feet.

Whatever ghosts haunted his past, they would have to wait.

For now, a new day had begun.

The bustling dressing room buzzed with energy as the morning shoot drew closer.

Large vanity mirrors lined the walls, each framed with glowing bulbs that cast a warm light over the room. Makeup artists hurried from one station to another, their brushes dancing across flawless faces while hairstylists carefully curled, braided, and pinned elaborate hairstyles into place.

Costume racks stretched across one side of the room, overflowing with elegant gowns, tailored suits, and carefully labeled outfits for the day’s scenes.

Rachel stood near the entrance, a clipboard tucked beneath her arm.

Dressed in a crisp white blouse, black trousers, and comfortable flats, she looked every bit the professional. Her sharp eyes moved from one actress to another, ensuring everything was running according to schedule.

“Melissa,” she called gently, “your costume needs one last adjustment before you head to set.”

The young actress glanced down at the loose hem of her dress.

“Oh, thank you.”

Rachel signaled one of the wardrobe assistants, who immediately stepped forward with a sewing kit.

A few feet away, another actress nervously practiced her lines while staring into the mirror.

Rachel approached with an encouraging smile.

“You’re doing fine. Just relax and let the emotions come naturally.”

The actress nodded gratefully.

“Thanks, Rachel. I really needed that.”

Before Rachel could reply, another wardrobe assistant rushed over.

“The necklace for Scene Twelve is missing.”

Rachel remained composed.

“It was moved to the accessory cabinet after yesterday’s fitting. Check the second drawer on the left.”

Within seconds, the assistant returned, holding up the sparkling necklace with a relieved smile.

“You were right!”

Rachel chuckled softly.

“I try to keep track of everything.”

Across the room, laughter erupted as two actresses admired one another’s costumes, teasing each other playfully while makeup artists rolled their eyes with amused smiles.

One actress twirled dramatically in her flowing evening gown.

“Do I look like the villain yet?”

Another laughed.

“You look too kind to play one.”

The room filled with cheerful giggles.

Rachel glanced at the wall clock.

Only twenty minutes until filming.

She clapped her hands lightly, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Alright, ladies. Final touch-ups, then we’ll be heading to Set Three. Please double-check your costumes and props before leaving.”

A chorus of acknowledgments echoed through the dressing room.

Watching everyone spring back into motion, Rachel allowed herself a small smile.

There was always a certain magic before the cameras started rolling—a mixture of excitement, nerves, and determination.

As organized chaos unfolded around her, she took one last look around the dressing room, satisfied that everything was exactly where it needed to be before another day of filmmaking began.