Chapter 15 Public Claims
2212 Words
Chloe arrived at work earlier than usual, hoping the quiet hours would give her space to breathe. They didn’t. The moment she stepped through the office entrance, she felt it — the shift in atmosphere. Conversations that stopped too quickly. Eyes that lingered too long. Murmurs that followed her like a shadow down the hallway.
Her stomach tightened. Something was wrong.
“Chloe!”
Amanda came rushing toward her from the reception desk, phone clutched in her hand, eyes wide with a mixture of panic and excitement.
“You need to see this. Right now.”
Chloe frowned. “Amanda, I just got—”
“Now,” Amanda insisted, shoving the phone toward her.
On the screen was a photo. Her heart dropped instantly. It was her and Damon — getting into his SUV the previous day when they were searching for Martha. The angle made it look intimate, secretive. Damon's hand was on her back, guiding her into the car.
But it wasn’t just the photo. It was the headline splashed across it in bold letters:
Wanna-belong b***h.
Chloe slapped both hands onto her head. “Oh my God…”
The post had thousands of reactions already. Comments flooding in. Speculation. Insults. Jealous accusations. Wild rumors about how she must have “seduced” her boss to climb status.
“I didn’t even know anyone was there,” she muttered, mortified.
Amanda winced sympathetically. “People are saying you’ve been secretly dating him for months. Some are claiming you’re engaged. Someone even said you moved into his house already.”
Chloe groaned softly. “This is a nightmare.”
Before Amanda could reply, commotion erupted near the building entrance. Voices. Loud ones.
Camera shutters clicking rapidly.
Amanda turned. “Uh… speaking of nightmares.”
Chloe followed her gaze — and froze.
Damon had just arrived.
Paparazzi swarmed him the moment he stepped out of his car. Microphones thrust toward his face. Questions flying over each other.
“Mr Heights, are you in a relationship with your employee?”
“Is she the woman in the viral photo?”
“Are you abusing company power?”
Security moved quickly, but Damon didn’t look irritated.
He looked… decisive. His eyes found Chloe across the lobby almost instantly. Then he did something she absolutely did not expect. He raised his hand slightly, silencing the chaos around him with sheer presence.
“Yes,” Damon said clearly, voice carrying across the entrance. “Chloe is with me.”
The lobby went silent. Camera flashes exploded.
“And to be very clear,” he continued calmly, “she is not being coerced, manipulated, or advantaged. She is my girlfriend.”
Chloe’s jaw dropped.
“What?!” she exclaimed under her breath, her face turning bright red as she instinctively lowered her head in embarrassment.
Amanda’s grip tightened on her arm. “Girl… your life is officially over.”
But when Chloe dared to look up again, Damon was already walking toward her — ignoring the reporters, ignoring the whispers, ignoring everything except her. And the look in his eyes said one thing unmistakably.
He meant every word. He kissed her in front of everyone.
-
Richard stared at his phone screen, hands trembling.
The image of Chloe and Damon together filled the display — Damon’s hand possessively at her back, the headlines screaming speculation and scandal beneath it. But it wasn’t the comments that broke him.
It was Damon’s public declaration.
She is my girlfriend.
Richard’s chest tightened painfully.
“No…” he whispered, shaking his head. “No, Chloe… you wouldn’t… you couldn’t…”
He began pacing his apartment, agitation rising with every step. He knew Chloe. She was gentle. Emotional. Vulnerable in ways she tried to hide behind determination. Damon Heights was none of those things.
Damon was dangerous, powerful and ruthless. A man surrounded by secrets and influence.
Richard’s jaw clenched.
He’s manipulating her.
The conclusion formed with terrifying certainty in his mind. Chloe must be under pressure — coerced, threatened, emotionally cornered. There was no way she would willingly entangle herself with someone like Damon.
“I won’t let him ruin you,” Richard muttered.
He grabbed his keys.
“I’m coming for you, Chloe.”
Earlier that morning…
Damon closed a file on his desk and looked up at Chloe, his expression serious.
“I received confirmation,” he said. “The Reliquary of Aethelis is being presented tonight. Private auction. Invitation-only.”
Chloe’s brows lifted. “An auction? I thought it was sealed in a museum vault.”
“It was,” Damon replied calmly. “Which means someone with significant authority authorized its removal.”
They both knew what that implied.
“Obviously,” Damon continued, “the infamous Bishop Caelum Mordrin will be present. It’s important we’re there. We can’t fight enemies we don’t recognize.”
“Yeah… that’s true,” Chloe admitted slowly. “But he wants me too. He’ll expect me there.”
“For over a month — even before I knew you — I’ve been preparing for this event,” Damon said. “I reserved a private observation suite. We’ll attend without revealing our identities.”
Chloe folded her arms.
“Honestly, I still think this chest isn’t worth the stress or your money. You’ve got absolutely nothing to do with the treasure.”
Damon stepped closer, his gaze softening slightly.
“It has everything to do with my girlfriend,” he said. “And she’s being hunted for it. That makes it my business.”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “You keep saying that.”
He ignored her protest, smiling faintly before leaning down to press a brief kiss against her lips.
“Get ready,” he murmured. “We leave in an hour.”
Damon waited in the living room, adjusting his cufflinks when Chloe’s phone vibrated on the table beside him.
The screen lit up with a name.
Richard Calling.
A slow smirk spread across Damon’s face. He picked up the phone and answered.
“Chloe?” Richard’s voice came, tense. “Are you okay? I saw the news. Listen, if you’re in trouble—”
“This isn’t Chloe.”
The temperature of the conversation dropped instantly.
“…Damon.”
Recognition came with pure hostility.
“What the hell are you doing with her phone?” Richard snapped.
Damon leaned casually against the sofa. “She’s busy getting dressed. I can pass along a message if you’d like.”
“You stay away from her,” Richard growled. “You think I don’t know men like you? Power. Money. Control. Whatever you’re doing to her, it ends now.”
Damon chuckled softly — a dangerous sound.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions for someone who lost her already.”
“That’s not what happened,” Richard shot back. “Chloe is fragile. She doesn’t belong in your world. If you’ve threatened her—”
“I don’t need threats,” Damon interrupted coldly. “She chose me.”
A sharp inhale came through the phone.
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Damon’s voice lowered. “Then why isn’t she with you?”
Silence.
Rage simmered beneath Richard’s breathing.
“I swear to God,” Richard said, voice shaking with fury, “if you hurt her, I will destroy you. I don’t care what it costs.”
Damon’s eyes darkened.
“You don’t have the power to destroy me,” he said quietly. “But you’re welcome to try.”
The tension between them was almost tangible. Then Damon delivered the final strike.
“Tell me something, Richard,” he said smoothly. “Does your family know about your… forbidden love life yet? Or have you finally decided to give up your inheritance for Chloe’s sake?”
The silence that followed was explosive.
“You son of a—”
Damon ended the call.
He placed the phone back on the table, completely unbothered.
A few seconds later, Chloe appeared at the staircase — dressed elegantly for the evening, unaware of the confrontation that had just occurred.
For a brief moment, Damon forgot everything else. Because she looked breathtaking. And tonight, they were walking directly into the lion’s den.
-
The auction venue was nothing short of extravagant.
Crystal chandeliers shimmered from the high ceilings, casting fractured light across polished marble floors. Men in tailored suits and women draped in designer gowns moved through the hall with quiet authority — the kind of wealth that didn’t need to announce itself loudly.
Damon and Chloe entered unnoticed. That had been the plan.
A private elevator, arranged weeks in advance, carried them directly to an upper observation suite overlooking the main auction floor. The room was dimly lit, separated from the public by tinted one-way glass. From inside, they could see everything. From outside, no one could see them. Perfect anonymity.
Chloe exhaled slowly as she approached the glass.
“So many people…” she murmured.
Below them sat some of the most influential figures in business, politics, and private collecting circles — all gathered for one purpose.
The Reliquary of Aethelis.
Damon stood beside her, hands in his pockets, scanning faces with practiced precision.
“Power attracts power,” he said quietly. “Artifacts like this aren’t just historical. They’re leverage.”
Her eyes moved across the room. Then Damon suddenly went still.
“That’s unexpected.”
Chloe glanced at him. “What?”
He nodded subtly toward a man seated near the front row.
“Peter Carter.”
Her brows lifted. “Your business rival?”
“Yes,” Damon replied, eyes narrowing slightly. “Which raises a very interesting question… what would he want with the Reliquary?”
Before Chloe could respond, movement on the stage drew everyone’s attention. The auction was beginning.
A presenter stepped forward, introducing several preliminary items — rare manuscripts, antique sculptures, jeweled relics. Bidding started quickly, numbers rising with ease among the wealthy attendees.
But neither Damon nor Chloe cared about those. They were waiting. Finally, after nearly an hour, the lights dimmed slightly. A reinforced display case was wheeled onto the stage. Even from the distance, Chloe felt it. A faint vibration against her chest. Her hand instinctively rose to the Aurelian Sigil resting beneath her dress.
“That’s it,” she whispered.
Inside the case sat the Reliquary of Aethelis — crystalline facets catching the light, silver filigree glowing faintly as if alive.
The room filled with murmurs of awe. The bidding started at two million dollars. Hands went up immediately.
Three million. Four. Five.
Numbers climbed rapidly as wealthy collectors competed without hesitation. One by one, participants began dropping out as the price escalated.
Fifteen bidders became ten. Ten became six. Six became three.
Damon remained completely still.
Chloe glanced at him. “Aren’t you going to—”
“Not yet,” he said calmly. “Patience.”
Soon only two bidders remained on the floor.
Peter Carter and a middle-aged man seated calmly near the center, composed, dignified, radiating quiet authority.
Damon’s eyes sharpened instantly.
“That’s him,” he said under his breath.
Chloe followed his gaze. “The bishop?”
“I’d bet everything on it.”
The bidding intensified between the two men. Nine million. Ten. Eleven. Twelve million dollars.
A hush fell over the room.
Peter Carter hesitated. For a moment, tension stretched thin — then he slowly lowered his paddle. He was out. The middle-aged man inclined his head slightly, confident victory already settling into his posture.
The auctioneer lifted the gavel.
“Twelve million dollars going once—”
Damon pressed the private bid button on the console in front of him. His voice transmitted electronically into the hall.
“Fifty million dollars.”
The entire room erupted. Gasps. Shock. Confusion.
Heads turned in every direction, searching for the anonymous bidder who had just more than quadrupled the price.
Even Chloe stared at Damon, stunned.
“You just—”
He didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on the floor below. On Peter Carter and the middle-aged man. The bishop. Both men had turned toward each other instinctively — exchanging a glance that lasted only a fraction of a second.
But it was enough. Damon saw it clearly. Recognition, coordination and partnership.
They’re working together.
The auctioneer, voice trembling slightly with excitement, continued.
“Fifty million dollars… any challengers?”
Silence. No one dared compete at that level.
The gavel lifted.
“Fifty million dollars… going once… going twice…”
A sharp crack echoed through the hall.
“Sold. To the anonymous bidder.”
Whispers exploded across the room. Speculation ran wild. Security personnel moved immediately to begin private verification procedures.
Chloe’s heart was pounding.
Damon quietly spoke, a cold satisfaction in his tone, “Carter and Mordrin are connected.”
Below them, the bishop’s calm expression had tightened ever so slightly. For the first time that night, he had lost and he had no idea to whom.
Damon slipped his arm around Chloe’s waist, pulling her gently closer.
“The game just changed,” he murmured.
And somewhere deep inside her chest, the Sigil pulsed with heat. As if it knew. The Reliquary was finally coming home.
- Writer
