Glass chains

The call

Chapter Two – The Call

The black card felt heavier than it should have. Liana sat on the edge of her bed, her damp uniform crumpled in a pile on the floor, the eviction notice spread open beside her like a wound that wouldn’t close.

Her phone sat in her hand, the screen glowing against the dark. Damien West’s number burned at her from the black card.

She had no business thinking about it.

She should be practical—calculate hours, shifts, tips. Maybe bag for another extension. Maybe sell the last of her dad’s tools.

But the words wouldn’t leave her head.

You’re burning yourself just to survive another month.

Her thumb hovered over the screen, heart pounding so loud it filled her skull.

When she finally pressed “call,” she almost dropped the phone.

It rang once. Twice. Then—

“Liana,” his voice came through, smooth as steel, unhurried, as though he’d been expecting her.

Her stomach flipped. “H-how do you know my name?”

He let the silence stretch. “I make it my business to know the names of people I deal with.” His tone was low, commanding, clipped in that arrogant way that didn’t ask—it demanded.

She swallowed. “I shouldn’t be calling. This—this is crazy.”

“It’s survival,” he cut in. “And you know it.”

Her hand trembled. “Why me?”

Another pause. She could almost picture him smirking. “Because you don’t play games. I need someone who understands what it means to keep their head down and endure. You’ve been enduring for too long, haven’t you?”

Her throat tightened. He spoke like he was dissecting her, as if every private thought were laid bare.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself,” she whispered.

“I don’t deal in uncertainty.” His voice sharpened. “You want out? One year. You’ll play the role I need—my wife. In return, you’ll have more than scraps and overdue bills. But hesitation, Liana…” A dangerous beat. “…hesitation is the luxury of people with options. Do you have any?”

“No,” she admitted softly.

“Good,” he said, as though she’d given the only acceptable answer. “Listen carefully. Tomorrow. Seven sharp. My driver will pick you up. Don’t make me wait. You’ll want to be ready.”

Her pulse kicked up. “Ready for what?”

“You’ll see.” His voice dipped lower, like velvet stretched over a blade. “And, Liana—don’t waste my time with second thoughts. If you step into my world, you don’t step back out.”

The line went dead.

She sat frozen, her phone slipping onto the bed. Her chest rose and fell in shallow bursts.

Damien West wasn’t a man. He was a storm in a suit. And somehow, she’d just walked into it.

The next morning came too quickly.

Liana had barely slept, tossing between dread and something she didn’t want to name—anticipation. She moved quietly so as not to wake Liam.

The apartment felt smaller than ever—walls closing in, air heavy with illness and debt. She tried to eat, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t let food pass.

By seven, the sound of a sleek engine hummed outside. She froze, spoon halfway to her mouth.

“Who’s that?” Liam’s voice broke the silence. He shuffled out of his room, hair sticking up, hoodie loose. His eyes narrowed at the shadow of a car. “You expecting someone?”

Liana forced a smile. “Probably a neighbor’s ride.”

But Liam wasn’t convinced. He stepped closer. “That car… Liana, that’s for you, isn’t it?”

Her stomach twisted. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t worry?” His voice sharpened. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground, and now some fancy car shows up? What are you into?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

Liam’s jaw tightened. “Don’t lie to me.”

Her hands trembled around the spoon. He was seventeen, but his eyes were too old, hardened by life.

He grabbed the eviction notice from the counter. “This is why, isn’t it? You’re desperate.”

“Liam—”

“What are you going to do, huh? Sell yourself to fix this?”

Her chest ached. “Don’t say that.”

“Then tell me the truth! I’ve watched you kill yourself at those jobs. You come home broken every night, and now you’re hiding something? If it’s dangerous, Liana—”

His words cut deeper than the notice ever could. She saw the fear under his anger, the boy beneath the bitterness.

She stepped forward, placing her hands on his shoulders. “I’m trying to save us, Liam. That’s all.”

“By what? Throwing yourself into something shady?” His voice dropped. “You’re all I have left. Don’t do this to me.”

Her throat closed, tears threatening. She wanted to promise safety, to swear she wouldn’t make things worse. But the truth weighed heavily. She had already made the call. Damien West didn’t strike her as a man you could say no to twice.

“I’ll fix this,” she whispered.

Liam only looked at her, eyes dark with betrayal, before turning away.

The car horn outside blared once—sharp, impatient. Liana flinched. The storm had arrived. She had no choice but to step into it.

The city stretched below like a web of light and shadow, streets slick from rain. Liana pulled her coat tighter, the weight of her agreement pressing down. Every step toward the black car felt like walking into a trap.

Before she reached it, the door swung open. Damien West was already there, immaculate in a tailored suit, presence sharp and commanding. The air seemed charged, heavy. His eyes scanned her, deliberate and calculating, making her stomach twist.

“Get in,” he said, voice low, precise. No smile. Just control.

She slid into the passenger seat. Leather smelled intoxicating, almost dangerous. Every nerve was alert.

Damien settled into the driver’s seat, posture rigid. He glanced at her. “You’re punctual. I like that. Do you understand the arrangement?”

“Yes,” she whispered, barely audible.

“Good.” His gaze never left the road, but the weight of it suffocated her. “Once you step into my world, hesitation is a liability. I have little patience for mistakes.”

Her pulse quickened. “I—I understand,” she murmured.

The city blurred past, neon streaking across the windshield. Silence pressed in, heavy, like air before a storm.

“You’re thinking too much,” he said, low, almost purring. “Calculating routes, risks, escape. I don’t negotiate with hesitation. One misstep, one second of doubt, and everything you cling to—gone. Do you understand?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” A corner of his mouth quirked—a predator’s smirk. “I like efficiency, not theatrics.”

She dared a glance at him. Every inch radiated control, power, untouchable. Yet beneath fear, a dangerous allure made her pulse spike.

The car slowed near a tower that pierced the skyline. Liana’s eyes widened—gleaming glass, impossibly high, impossibly luxurious. She stepped toward it, summoned.

Damien parked. She followed hesitantly, shoes echoing in the polished lobby.

The elevator ride was silent. Seconds stretched taut, electric. Every glance he gave unsettled her completely. She wanted to disappear, yet she couldn’t turn away.

Finally, the doors opened onto the penthouse. Vast, sleek, intimidating. Minimalist furniture, modern art, cold lighting. Damien gestured to a couch without a word. She obeyed.

He circled, assessing, predator-like. Her heart hammered. Every instinct screamed danger, yet she remained rooted.

“You’ve made choices tonight,” he said, his voice low, deliberate. “Choices that define the next year. Don’t delude yourself—you have no power here. You obey. You adapt. You survive. That is all.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He leaned against the window, arms crossed. She followed his gaze towards the city, the weight of his presence pressing down. She had called, stepped in. No turning back.

“You’re thinking about regrets,” he said suddenly. “Good. Regret keeps people sharp. But hesitation is fatal. This isn’t a game. I don’t tolerate weakness.”

“I understand,” she whispered, hollow.

“You’d better. If you fail, you won’t just lose this arrangement. You’ll lose everything you care about. Comprehend the stakes?”

“Yes,” she said, voice shaking.

He straightened, stepping closer. Authority pressed down, undeniable. “Try to rest. Tomorrow, you’ll begin understanding my world. You’ll need all your wits intact.”

She nodded. Her mind raced. Every instinct screamed to run, yet a strange pull, a dangerous fascination rooted her in place.

Finally, he turned, leaving her in the vast penthouse. She whispered to herself: “What have I done?”

The city glittered below, endless and unforgiving. Damien West—cold, dominant, untouchable—had claimed her attention, her fear, and perhaps, unknowingly, a piece of her will.

She stayed on the couch long after he left, mind racing through danger, temptation, anticipation. The year ahead would change everything.

Because survival wasn’t just about money or safety. It was about enduring him.

And surviving Damien West meant facing the impossible.