Chapter 5: He Had Me
750 Words
JANET'S POV
My apartment is always my safe place, not like the Sterling-Blackwood mansion. Mine was a mess with mismatched furniture, stacks of books, and a slightly wilting fiddle-leaf tree that I named Ferdinand.
The air didn't smell of money, it smelled of microwaved popcorn and the cheap, cherry-scented candle I bought at a discount store.
I curled on my worn velvet sofa, tucked my feet under the blanket, and had a glass of two-buck-chuck within reach.
I was halfway through an episode of a trashy baking competition—the kind where contestants wept over collapsed soufflés—when my phone buzzed on the pillow next to me.
The screen lit up with Damon's name. I smiled. It was time for the post-battle report.
His text was short.
Damon: Survived. Just about.
I let out a sympathetic laugh, shaking my head. I could picture the scene perfectly. Eleanor, scanning his suit. Theodore would have told him not to mess things up, treating his son like a business.
My poor, handsome Damon, would have endured it all with that cold, pained face.
The 'just about' was our code. It was his little flag of surrender.
Without hesitation, I hit the call button. He deserved to vent to a friendly ear. He picked up on the third ring.
"Well?" I said, forgoing a hello. "Don't leave me in suspense. Spit it out."
There was a pause on the other end, only a distant hum of traffic. What could be going on?
"Hey, Jan," he finally said.
His voice was… off. He let out a sigh of relief from exhaustion.
"Whoa," I teased. "They really did a number on you tonight, huh? How was the dinner?"
"The usual," he said. I knew it.
This is not his usual self. Usually, he'd launch into dramatic, hilarious jokes, and mimic his parents. We'd laugh, I'd call them monsters, and he would feel better. But tonight, seems like he's speaking from exhaustion.
"Come on, D. Say something," I urged. "Were you embarrassed?"
"No," he said. Silent again. I could hear him take a breath. "It was just… a long dinner."
Damon was a storyteller. This person on the other end of the line seems to be a stranger. Something squeezed my heart. They had finally done it.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry," I said. "They're vampires, Damon. You can't let them get to you like this. You're the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company. You're a grown man. You can just… let them do whatever they want with your life."
"You can't understand," he said.
"Then make me!" I insisted, sitting up straight. "Make me understand. Next time they call you, you just say no. Or, better yet, you tell them you have something else to do."
"It's not as easy as you think."
"It's. Make it easy Damon. You are a human not an asset." I shouted. I felt helpless for him, I wish I could set him free.
He sighed. "Listen, Jan," he said. "I should go. I've got an early morning appointment. I need to get ready."
I frowned. It was nearly eleven o'clock. Damon worked hard, but wasn't a masochist. No time to rest.
Prepping for a meeting now sounded like an excuse. A way to get off the phone. A way to get away from me.
"Okay," I said, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. Try to get some rest."
"I will," he said."
Then he cut the call. Just like that. No goodbye.
I'll see you tomorrow. It's what we always say. But tonight, he didn't.
I placed the phone back on the sofa and stared at the muted television. The winning baker was crying tears of joy, covered in flour and powdered sugar. It all seemed so stupid.
My mind replayed the brief and unsettling conversation I had with Damon just now. His dull voice, his answers, the way he shouted. I knew He was hiding something.
I knew it was about Marriage, a sham marriage to cover, his sexuality not to shame his parents and the empire. After everything he'd done for that family.
He had tripled its value since he took over, dragging the Sterling-Blackwood empire to the top 1. And this was his reward? Such ungrateful parents.
They should let him choose who he wants to be. To be precise, being gay is not bad. As his friend, I support him and will continue to do so.
Or… is Damon hiding something from me?
- Writer
