Chapter 5 No Appointment
1751 Words
Damien Blackwood read Item No. 5 three times before leaving the mansion.
The handwriting was Evelyn’s.
Calm.
Precise.
Almost too gentle.
Item No. 5
Go to Aurora Jewelry.
Ask for Designer E.H.
Do not mention my name.
He stood in the silent kitchen, staring at the last line.
Do not mention my name.
A faint frown crossed his face.
Forty-two minutes passed.
For the first time in Damien Blackwood’s career…
Waiting became part of his schedule.
He checked neither his watch nor his phone again.
Instead, he watched Aurora.
A designer hurried across the studio carrying a necklace prototype.
Another was sketching directly onto a glass wall covered in marker notes.
Two interns argued over a clasp mechanism until an older designer walked over, listened for less than a minute, and quietly solved the problem before walking away again.
No shouting.
No hierarchy on display.
Only people trying to make something beautiful.
It felt…
Nothing like Blackwood Group.
A young receptionist approached with a cup of coffee.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
He looked up.
“I wasn’t sure how long you might have to wait.”
“So…”
“We thought you might like this.”
He accepted the cup almost automatically.
“Thank you.”
She smiled.
“Our café is on the third floor.”
“President Hart insists every guest should be offered coffee if they’re waiting longer than fifteen minutes.”
Damien’s fingers tightened slightly around the paper cup.
“Every guest?”
“Yes.”
“No exceptions.”
She returned to the reception desk.
Damien looked down at the coffee.
It wasn’t expensive.
It wasn’t elaborate.
Yet somehow…
It reminded him of another cup of coffee.
One that had always appeared beside him before morning meetings.
One he had never thanked anyone for making.
The notebook rested inside his coat pocket.
Without thinking, he opened it again.
Beneath Item No. 5, another handwritten sentence appeared.
One he had somehow overlooked.
Respect isn’t something your name can open.
It’s something your actions earn.
Damien read the sentence twice.
Then quietly closed the notebook.
For the first time…
He wasn’t reading it to prove Evelyn wrong.
He was reading because he wanted to understand why she had written it.
Upstairs…
The executive meeting had just ended.
Evelyn gathered the final documents into a neat stack.
Her assistant remained standing near the door.
“President Hart.”
“He has been waiting for forty-five minutes.”
“I know.”
“He hasn’t complained.”
She smiled faintly.
“I didn’t expect him to.”
The assistant hesitated.
“Should I bring him upstairs?”
Instead of answering, Evelyn walked toward the window.
Below, the lobby looked small from the top floor.
She could just make out Damien sitting quietly with a coffee in his hand.
Not pacing.
Not demanding.
Just…
Waiting.
For a brief moment, memories overlapped.
Three years.
Hundreds of dinners.
Countless evenings spent waiting for the sound of his car pulling into the driveway.
She had waited.
Because she believed love meant patience.
Now…
He was the one waiting.
Not as punishment.
Simply because everyone else’s time mattered too.
She turned away from the window.
“Finish the supplier review first.”
“The Paris launch comes before everything else.”
The assistant nodded immediately.
“Understood.”
“And Mr. Blackwood?”
Evelyn picked up another file.
“He’ll be seen.”
“When today’s work allows it.”
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Back downstairs…
The young designer who had dropped the gemstones earlier approached Damien nervously.
“I’m sorry if the lobby was noisy.”
“It wasn’t.”
She smiled with visible relief.
“My first week here.”
“I’ve already made three mistakes.”
“And no one fired you?”
She laughed.
“President Hart says mistakes are tuition.”
“If we learn from them…”
“They’re never a waste.”
Damien looked toward the elevators.
“What kind of person is President Hart?”
The young woman thought seriously before answering.
“The kind…”
“…who remembers your birthday before she remembers her own.”
“The kind who stays until midnight if one designer has to stay until midnight.”
“The kind who asks about your family before asking about deadlines.”
She smiled.
“I’ve never worked for anyone like her.”
Then she hurried back to the studio.
Damien remained seated.
Somewhere deep inside him…
Something shifted.
Not regret.
Not yet.
Respect.
The kind built slowly.
The kind that couldn’t be demanded.
The private elevator doors opened.
Evelyn’s assistant stepped into the lobby.
He walked directly toward Damien.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
Damien stood.
“Designer E.H. has reviewed your request.”
“And?”
“Designer E.H. is willing to meet you.”
A quiet breath escaped Damien.
“But…”
The assistant continued calmly.
“You’ll have ten minutes.”
“No more.”
Damien nodded.
“That’s enough.”
The assistant looked at him for another second.
Then added,
“There’s one condition.”
Damien frowned.
“What condition?”
“When you enter…”
“Please remember you’re meeting a designer.”
“…Not someone impressed by your name.”
For a heartbeat…
Neither man spoke.
Then Damien gave a single nod.
“I understand.”
The assistant pressed the elevator button.
The doors slid open.
As Damien stepped inside, the notebook shifted slightly inside his coat.
Almost as if reminding him…
He wasn’t here as the CEO of Blackwood Group.
He was here as a man trying to understand the woman he had never truly seen.
The elevator doors began to close.
On the top floor…
Behind a glass office door…
Evelyn quietly set aside the file she had been reading.
She took one slow breath.
Then reached for the handle.
After three years…
Their first meeting would not happen as husband and wife.
It would happen…
As strangers.
Why would it matter?
He wasn’t going there as Evelyn’s husband.
He was going there as Damien Blackwood.
People opened doors for that name.
They always had.
At least…
They used to.
The revolving doors of Aurora Jewelry turned slowly beneath the morning sun.
Damien stepped into the lobby and stopped.
The building was nothing like Blackwood Group.
No dark marble.
No cold silence.
No assistants rushing ahead to announce his arrival.
Aurora felt bright.
Alive.
Design sketches lined the walls like pieces of a heartbeat.
Fresh flowers stood beside the reception desk.
Behind the glass display cases, gemstones caught the light in quiet flashes of color.
No one stopped talking when he walked in.
No one straightened.
No one whispered his name.
For the first time in more than a decade…
Damien entered a room and remained just another visitor.
He approached the reception desk.
The receptionist looked up with a professional smile.
“Good morning, sir.”
“How may I help you?”
“I’m here to see Designer E.H.”
“Of course. Do you have an appointment?”
“…No.”
The smile did not change.
“I’m sorry. Designer E.H. only meets visitors by appointment.”
Damien slid a business card across the counter.
“I’m Damien Blackwood.”
Usually, that was enough.
The receptionist glanced at the card.
Then politely handed it back.
“Thank you, Mr. Blackwood.”
“But our appointment policy applies to everyone.”
The words landed quietly.
Not rude.
Not dismissive.
Worse.
Fair.
Damien looked at her for a second longer than necessary.
Then, slowly, he took back the card.
“I understand.”
The receptionist nodded.
“You’re welcome to wait while I notify Designer E.H.’s assistant.”
“How long?”
“I’m not sure.”
Damien glanced toward the elevators.
Then back at the receptionist.
“I’ll wait.”
He sat in the waiting area beside a wall of framed design awards.
Not company awards.
Designer awards.
Each plaque carried different names.
Different years.
Different collections.
But one set of initials appeared again and again.
E.H.
Damien stood and walked closer.
Aurora Rising — Designer E.H.
Starlight Collection — Designer E.H.
Best Emerging Jewelry Vision — E.H.
His fingers stopped just short of touching the glass.
Whoever E.H. was…
They were everywhere.
And somehow, Evelyn had known exactly where to send him.
A sharp sound drew his attention.
Near the open studio, a young designer dropped a tray of loose gemstones.
Tiny stones scattered across the floor.
The young woman froze.
“Oh no…”
Several people turned.
No one yelled.
No one looked annoyed.
An older designer knelt beside her immediately.
“It’s fine. We’ll sort them.”
“But the presentation is in twenty minutes.”
Another voice answered from across the room.
“Then we fix it in nineteen.”
The young woman looked close to tears.
One of the senior designers removed his own tray from the display case and handed it to her.
“Use mine.”
“But your work—”
“It’s not gone.”
He smiled.
“It’s just delayed.”
Damien watched in silence.
At Blackwood Group, a mistake like that would have been met with fear.
Here…
People moved.
Helped.
Solved.
No one wasted time blaming the person who had dropped the tray.
A strange thought crossed his mind.
Respect wasn’t something a company announced in meetings.
It was something employees felt when things went wrong.
His phone vibrated.
Lucas.
“Did you find E.H.?”
“I’m waiting.”
A pause.
“You?”
Damien looked toward the receptionist, then toward the designers still helping each other gather the scattered stones.
“Yes.”
Lucas gave a small laugh.
“That’s new.”
Damien didn’t deny it.
He looked again at the awards on the wall.
“Lucas.”
“Find everything you can on Designer E.H.”
“Already trying.”
“And?”
“That’s the strange part.”
“There are awards.”
“Collections.”
“Industry references.”
“But no public photo.”
“No interviews.”
“No personal profile.”
“It’s like the work exists…”
“…but the person doesn’t.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed.
The person doesn’t.
His gaze returned to the notebook in his coat pocket.
For the first time, he wondered if Evelyn had sent him here not to meet someone…
But to understand something.
Something she had known for years.
Something he had missed completely.
- Writer
