CHAPTER FIVE— Eight Hours
1538 Words
The apartment was deathly quiet.
Sunlight spilled across the dining table, illuminating the single photograph that had haunted Serena through the night.
She picked it up again. For the twentieth time.
Two men.
Two bottles of beer.
One careless, frozen laugh.
Her father and the man he was convicted of murdering.
She zoomed in until the pixels blurred. No signs of editing. No obvious manipulation. Just two men who looked like old friends sharing a drink.
During the trial, her father had sworn under oath: “I never met him.”
He had said it to detectives.
He had said it before the verdict—and even after it.
So why did this picture exist?
Serena traced her father’s smiling face with a trembling finger. “I don’t understand things anymore, Dad.”
Her laptop sat open beside her.
Every reverse-image search had failed. Every reply to the anonymous email had bounced. Whoever sent it wanted to stay hidden.
Her phone vibrated.
My driver is outside.
—Damien
“Outside?” Serena frowned as she walked to the window. The fact that he knew her place without asking for directions unsettled her.
A sleek black Rolls-Royce was waiting at the curb.
She glanced back at the photograph, then slipped it into her handbag.
If Damien Blackwood thought she was about to spend her lunchtime discussing an impromptu marriage, he was mistaken.
She had questions of her own, questions that could no longer wait.
********************
In his downtown office, Damien leaned back in his chair as James entered.
“Sir. The number has been traced.”
“I assumed it would be.”
James placed a thin folder on the desk. “It belongs to Ashley Morgan.”
Damien’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “She actually managed to surprise me.”
“Shall I summon her?”
“Yes. Let’s hear what she has to say.” Damien waved a hand. “And James—the dossier on Serena. Hold off on that for now.”
———
Ashley arrived twenty minutes later, elegant in a tailored dress, though her eyes were red-rimmed. She attempted a composed smile.
Damien didn’t return it. He simply slid the phone records across the table.
“You called my phone.”
Ashley glanced down, saying nothing.
“You disguised your voice. You lied about Serena.”
She took a shaky breath, fighting for dignity. “I’m sorry. I got humiliated at the gala, and then you spent the rest of the evening talking to her. I watched you ignore me… then walk after her. Damien, the way you looked at her…”
Her voice cracked. “You’ve never looked at me like that.”
Tears welled, but she lifted her chin. “I panicked. I thought if you believed she was dangerous, you’d stop seeing her.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”
“No,” Damien said quietly. “Predictably desperate, actually.”
Ashley stepped around the table until she stood close—too close. She placed a hand on his chest, voice dropping to a husky plea. “If this marriage is purely business… then keep me. No one has to know. I can still be whatever you need. Whatever you desire.”
“Who told you I intend to get married to her?” Damien asked, staring sharply at her. When she didn’t respond, he nodded his head slowly. “Mother…”
He gently removed her hand. “There was never an ‘us,’ Ashley. We enjoyed each other’s company, yes. But it’s not the same thing.”
Her eyes searched his desperately. “You don’t even love her.”
“No, I don’t.”
Hope flickered across her face—until he continued.
“But if she becomes my wife, she’ll be the only woman I touch. I don’t subscribe to infidelity.”
“What if she refuses to sleep with you?”
“Then she refuses,” he said flatly. “I don’t negotiate consent. And it still wouldn’t mean I’d come back to you.”
Ashley’s shoulders slumped in crushing defeat.
Damien straightened his cufflinks. “What we had is over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment with my lawyer.”
“She’s going to break your heart, Damien.” Ashley muttered as he walked past.
“That would require me to have one.”
************
The private dining room at Damien’s favorite restaurant was tense.
His elderly lawyer sat waiting, a thick contract folder on the table. Serena arrived precisely on time, looking composed but wary.
“I’m either getting married,” she said dryly, “or arrested.”
Damien’s lips twitched. “Hopefully the former.”
The lawyer slid the thirty-page document toward her. Serena let out a short laugh. “I’ve signed mortgages shorter than this.”
“My lawyer prefers clarity,” Damien replied.
They went through the clauses one by one:
Two years minimum.
Shared residence at Blackwood Manor.
Mandatory public appearances.
No interference in Blackwood business.
Absolute confidentiality.
Then came the more personal terms.
“Physical intimacy may occur only with the mutual written and verbal consent of both parties.” The lawyer read.
Serena blinked. “You put that in writing?”
“I don’t enjoy misunderstandings,” Damien replied.
The lawyer continued. “If physical intimacy does not occur, both parties remain free to pursue discreet relationships outside the marriage.”
Serena raised an eyebrow. “So we’d be married… but allowed to date other people?”
“If neither of us wants that part of marriage,” Damien answered calmly, “there’s no point pretending.”
She nodded slowly. “Fair.”
“If physical intimacy does occur,” the lawyer added, “both parties agree to remain sexually exclusive. Mr. Blackwood will also undergo a vasectomy prior to the marriage.”
Serena slowly lowered the contract. “You’ve planned this far ahead?”
“I planned it years ago. I simply hadn’t found the right person to execute it with.”
The lawyer pressed on. “Upon successful completion of twenty-four months, Mrs. Blackwood shall be set free and receive a compensation payment of twenty million dollars.”
Serena’s head snapped up. “‘Set free’?” She looked at Damien incredulously. “Was I kidn*pped?”
The old lawyer frowned. “It’s standard wording.”
Damien sighed. “No. I apologize—my lawyer is seventy-two and his phrasing can sometimes be… shitty.” He shot the man a look. “Rewrite that part. My wife will not be described like a parolee.”
Serena couldn’t suppress a small smile. “So basically you’re offering me twenty million dollars to disappear after two years?”
Damien shrugged. “I’m offering you compensation for giving up two years of your life.”
Before they could continue, the door to the private room swung open.
“I see I’m late,” Victoria Blackwood announced, striding in like she owned the restaurant.
Damien stood immediately. “Mother—”
She ignored him completely and took the seat directly beside Serena, offering the younger woman a cool, assessing smile. “You must be Serena.”
Serena nodded, pulse quickening.
Victoria turned to her son. “James told me you ordered a full investigation into her. Then cancelled it the moment you learned Ashley made that anonymous call.”
Serena turned sharply to Damien. “What call?”
Victoria removed a cream-colored envelope from her bag and slid it across the table. “I had him continue anyway. The next time you investigate someone, Damien, finish the job.”
Damien’s eyes hardened. “You had no right, mother.”
“I’ve been your mother longer than James has been your employee. I had every right.”
Damien’s jaw tightened as he opened the envelope. Inside were documents and a single surveillance photograph.
He picked up the documents first.
One page contained House of Verve’s client list. Every major client in it had business history with the Blackwood Group.
Another listed gala attendees over the past two years. Serena’s name was highlighted repeatedly with the note: substitute invite.
She had never been invited.
Someone had always surrendered their invitation so she could attend.
Victoria’s voice was low and cutting. “Whether she’s using you… or someone else is using her… Ashley was right about one thing. This woman didn’t enter your life by accident.”
Damien picked up the photograph. It showed Serena standing outside Blackwood Group headquarters three nights earlier, staring at the building with raw, burning intensity.
Serena went completely still. She had no idea what Damien was looking at, but she could tell from the triumphant look in his mother’s eyes that whatever was in that envelope might ruin things for her.
Victoria leaned in. “Now tell me, Damien… does this look like coincidence?”
Damien slowly lifted his gaze to Serena.
The lawyer stopped turning pages, pushing the contract aside.
Damien gently folded the documents, his expression unreadable. “Before we discuss marriage any further…”
He paused, eyes locked on hers.
“…you should explain why you’ve spent the last two years orbiting my family.”
- Writer
