CHAPTER FOUR— Sixteen Hours
1277 Words
The mansion was oppressively silent.
Not the peaceful quiet of rest, but the hollow emptiness of a place built for legacy rather than life. Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long golden beams across marble floors that had never known the sound of children’s laughter or running feet.
Damien Blackwood preferred it this way.
His eyes opened at exactly 6:00 AM. No alarm needed—discipline was ingrained. He rose from the massive king-sized bed in the master suite, the sheets barely disturbed on one side only.
He changed into workout gear and headed to the private gym.
Eight kilometers on the treadmill at a punishing pace.
Forty minutes of heavy lifting.
Every rep precise. Every breath controlled. Sweat was the only thing that ever truly submitted to him.
By the time he showered and dressed in a crisp tailored shirt and trousers, the routine had settled his mind.
People were unpredictable. Routines were not.
At seven-thirty, he sat alone at the twelve-seater dining table that could have hosted board meetings or lavish dinners but rarely did.
His chef appeared silently, placing a plate of perfectly prepared eggs Benedict, grilled salmon, avocado toast, and fresh seasonal fruit before him.
“Coffee, sir?”
“Black. No sugar.”
The chef nodded and vanished as quickly as he had come.
Damien unfolded the morning financial reports and began reading. His phone buzzed on the table.
Ashley.
He declined without a glance. It rang again. Then again. With a flicker of irritation, he switched it to silent.
The doorbell echoed through the vast halls like an intrusion.
Moments later, his housekeeper appeared in the doorway, looking hesitant. “Sir… your mother is here.”
Damien’s jaw tightened. “I’ve told her repeatedly to call before coming.”
“I’m sorry, sir. She insisted.”
He exhaled sharply. “Let her in.”
Victoria Blackwood strode into the dining room moments later, dressed in a flawless cream pantsuit with diamond earrings that caught the light. Her posture was perfect, her composure legendary—until she fixed her gaze on her son.
“You ignored Ashley’s calls all morning.”
Damien didn’t look up from his report. “Good morning to you too, Mother.”
“She called me in tears last night. You humiliated that poor girl at the gala.”
“I didn’t invite her. She invited herself into my evening.”
Victoria’s perfectly manicured fingers clenched. “She told me about the other woman. Some broke blogger you spent the rest of the night flirting with in front of her.”
Damien scoffed, cutting into his salmon. He almost corrected her—Serena didn’t strike him as a “broke blogger.” But the words died on his tongue. Truth was, he had no real idea what Serena did for a living. One of his security team had simply whispered her name after she walked away.
He knew almost nothing about her.
The realization was… fascinating.
Victoria noticed the faint shift in his expression. “You’re actually considering her?”
Damien finally looked up. “And if I am?”
“I won’t allow it. You will not marry some nobody who crawled out of nowhere.”
He set his fork down with deliberate calm. “Let me make this clear, Mother. You have two choices: I marry the woman I choose, or I don’t marry at all. Which would you prefer?”
Victoria stared at him, momentarily speechless. The silence stretched.
Finally, she asked, voice softer, “Do you want to marry for love, Damien?”
A quiet, bitter laugh escaped him. “You know I don’t believe in love. It’s a delusion sold to people who need excuses for bad decisions. But that doesn’t mean I’ll chain myself to one of those spoiled, clueless socialites you keep parading in front of me.”
She studied him intently, eyes narrowing with suspicion. “Is this about punishing your father?”
Damien said nothing, but the air in the room grew heavier.
Victoria stepped closer, her voice pleading. “He made mistakes. He was human. He probably regretted many things before he died. Let the past go. Stop hurting yourself over a dead man.”
Damien’s eyes darkened. “I’m sure he’s watching from a special channel in hell, Mother. And since the will demands I marry and remain married for two full years to be CEO… I’ll give him exactly what he wanted.”
His voice turned ice-cold.
“I’ll get married. I’ll stay married for exactly two years. Then I’ll divorce her. There will be no children. No legacy. I’ll bleed the company dry—every last penny—until it folds or falls into ruin. He wanted a continuation of his precious empire. I’ll make sure it ends with me.”
Victoria’s face paled. “You can’t be serious. You would destroy everything we’ve built?”
“Everything he built,” Damien corrected sharply.
The argument ignited.
“You’re letting hatred consume you!” Victoria’s voice rose, trembling with frustration and fear. “This isn’t strength, Damien—it’s self-destruction!”
“And defending him until the end is your weakness,” he shot back. “You’ve spent years making excuses for a man who never deserved them.”
They stood facing each other across the grand dining table, years of buried resentment boiling over. Voices echoed off the marble walls.
“You wanted to save lives, Damien. But instead you became one of the richest men in the country. Your father handed you a life millions would envy.”
“But you see, mother…” Damien muttered, facing her. “I am not like a million people. I don’t care about being one of the richest.”
“That’s why you want her?”
He blinked, surprised. “What?”
“That’s why you want to marry a girl with no family heritage, so you can divorce her whenever you want and there’d be no scandal?”
“I think it’s time you leave, Mother. Please.”
Victoria picked up her handbag with shaking hands, eyes glistening. “When you realize revenge doesn’t fill the emptiness… I hope it isn’t too late to save you from yourself.”
She turned and walked out. The heavy front door slammed behind her.
Silence crashed back over the mansion.
Damien remained standing, chest rising and falling with rare, uncontrolled anger. He stared out the window at the glittering city skyline.
His phone vibrated on the table. Private Number.
He answered, voice clipped. “Blackwood.”
A distorted, mechanically altered voice spoke on the other end.
“If you’re serious about being with Serena… you deserve to know the truth. She didn’t stumble into your life by accident. She came for you.”
Damien’s grip tightened until his knuckles whitened. “Who the hell is this?”
The caller ignored him. “Women don’t humiliate another woman unless they’re after something. Ask yourself why she targeted you specifically, and you’d get your answer.”
The line went dead.
Damien slowly lowered the phone, his composure fracturing into something sharper—pure, calculating curiosity mixed with suspicion.
He pressed the intercom button. “James.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I want a full dossier on Serena. Every detail. Her past, her present, her secrets. Be thorough… and discreet. But before then, reach out to Sam. I need help tracking a private number.”
He ended the call and looked back out over the city.
A woman had deliberately walked into his world and triggered something he hadn’t felt in years.
Damien intended to find out why.
- Writer
