THE BILLIONAIRE EXCEPTION

DAMIAN'SPOV

Three days before I met Vivian, I disappeared.

Not from the world. Just from the people who thought they owned a piece of my life.

My phone had been ringing for hours. I watched it vibrate across the leather seat beside me as I drove through the city, refusing to answer.

Mum. Marcus. Grandfather's lawyer.

I turned the phone face down. I didn't want to hear another person tell me to come. Because home was exactly where I didn't want to be.

For the past two weeks, the Blackwood estate had become unbearable. My grandfather's health had deteriorated suddenly. And with his condition came the inevitable question everyone had been avoiding.

Who would take over?

The Blackwood Group was too large to be left without a clear successor. And everyone already knew the answer.

Everyone except the person who was supposed to give it.

My grandfather had refused to make the announcement for months. Until that morning. The family lawyer walked into the study with a folder in his hand and said, "The announcement will be made in three days."

Three days. Just like that.

My mother had looked at me. My grandfather had looked at me. My assistant had looked at me.

Nobody needed to say my name. I knew I was the heir.

Just one person believed otherwise.

Uncle Richard.

He had never said he supported the idea. "Damian is too young." "Running the company isn't the same as sitting on a board." "Experience matters."

Sometimes he said it with a smile, as though he was concerned about the family's future. Other times he didn't bother hiding his disagreement.

The last family meeting had been the worst.

Grandfather sat at the end of the table, looking exhausted but very much in control. The lawyer had barely finished explaining the succession plans when Richard leaned back in his chair.

"I still don't think this is the right decision."

The room went silent. My mother immediately looked at him. "Richard."

"What?" He asked calmly. "We should be able to speak honestly."

Grandfather's eyes narrowed. "You have spoken."

"And I will continue to speak if I think we're making a mistake."

I looked at him. "What exactly is your objection?"

His gaze settled on me. "My objection is that you're being handed a company you haven't had to fight for. You're too young, Damian. You can't run this company."

Young?

Richard was my father's younger half-brother. Five years older than me. His mother had been one of my grandfather's mistresses. It was an ugly piece of family history nobody discussed outside the walls of the estate.

Grandfather had been married when Richard was born. He had never hidden the fact that Richard was his son, but Richard had grown up knowing he wasn't the legitimate heir. My father was.

And that difference had followed Richard his entire life. He had spent years building his own place within the Blackwood Group. But there was something he couldn't have. The top position.

Then my father died. And instead of the company eventually falling to Richard, Grandfather began grooming me. His eldest son's only child.

Richard never openly challenged the decision. He didn't need to. His disapproval was always there. In the way he looked at me. In the questions he asked during board meetings.

"Damian is talented, but he's young. Perhaps the board should consider someone with more experience."

Someone. He never said his own name. But I knew exactly what he meant.

And this evening was one of the days Richard had to remind me that I was young.

I pushed my chair back. "I think I've heard enough."

Richard's eyes followed me. "Walking away won't make you older, Damian."

I stopped. For a moment, I considered turning around. Instead, I walked out.

That was the last conversation I had with my family before I disappeared.

I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I didn't take my driver. I didn't take security. I didn't even take Marcus, my assistant. I just took my car and left.

For three days I stayed away. No meetings. No family dinners. No lawyers. No Blackwood. No drama.

---

BANG.

My car jerked forward. I gripped the steering wheel. For a second I just sat there, my heart hammering against my ribs.

What the hell?

Then I looked into the rearview mirror.

A woman was sitting behind the wheel of the car that had just hit me. She looked terrified. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

I took a breath. Stay calm. It's just a car.

I stepped out.

"I'm so sorry!" she called out before I could even speak. "I wasn't paying attention! I'll pay for the damage. I'm really sorry."

I looked at my bumper. A tiny scratch. Barely visible. Nothing worth making a scene over.

Then I looked at her.

And I stopped.

Her mascara was ruined dark streaks running down her cheeks. Her face was swollen from crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. Her hands were shaking so badly that she had to clasp them together to keep them still.

Whatever had happened before she hit my car was clearly worse than the accident itself.

"Miss, are you okay?" I heard myself ask.

She stared at me, confusion flickering across her face. Like she'd expected anger. Like she'd braced for someone to yell at her.

"Are you hurt?" I asked gently.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. "I'm having the worst day of my life."

Something in her voice made my chest tighten. I'd seen a lot of people in my life dealing with business rivals, board members, people who wanted something from me. But this woman wasn't trying to get anything. She was just... broken.

I glanced past her at the passenger seat of her car. The luxurious black gift box had fallen open during the collision. I could clearly see the engraving inside the lid:

TO FOREVER AND BEYOND, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY MY LOVE, LOVE VIVIAN.

Vivian.

So that was her name.

And someone had just broken her heart. Badly.

"You shouldn't be driving," I said softly.

She managed a weak smile. "I'll have someone take care of the paperwork. You don't need to worry about the car tonight."

The words surprised me. Even now, she was trying to fix things. Trying to be responsible. It made me want to help her more.

"I hit your car," she protested. "The least I can do is"

"The least you can do," I interrupted gently, "is get home safely."

I pulled a black business card from my pocket, one of the plain ones I kept for personal use, without the Blackwood name plastered all over it and slipped it into her hand.

"If you ever need anything, call me."

She looked down at the card, then back at me. "Thank you."

I gave her a small nod before turning away. I didn't want to leave her standing there alone, but I also didn't want to make things worse by hovering.

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed behind me.

"There you are, Mr. Blackwood."

Marcus. Of course.

I turned to see my assistant slightly out of breath, his usually immaculate suit a little rumpled. He'd clearly been running.

"We've been looking everywhere for you."

"I know."

"Your grandfather and everyone is waiting."

"I'll be there."

Marcus glanced at Vivian, then back at me. I could see the questions forming in his mind. Who is she? What happened? Why do you look like you actually care about something?

"Sir, tonight isn't a meeting you can afford to miss."

I knew that. I'd known it for days. That was exactly why I'd been avoiding it.

I glanced back at Vivian. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were still red. She was still shaking. Something about that bothered me more than it should have.

"Let's go," I said.

The two of us started walking toward my car. But halfway there, I heard her phone buzz behind me.

I stopped.

Damn it.

I turned back. Vivian was looking at her phone, her eyes wide.

Then she looked up and met my gaze. Recognition flickered in her expression. She knew who I was.

She knows.

I walked back toward her, lowering my voice so Marcus couldn't hear.

"Don't tell anyone you met me."

Before she could ask why, I turned away and walked back to my car.

Marcus was already in the driver's seat, but he wasn't subtle about his curiosity. "Who was that?"

"Nobody," I said.

But even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true.

She wasn't, nobody. She was a woman whose world had just fallen apart, and somehow, in the middle of my own mess, I'd found myself caring about hers.

For three days I'd been running away from my family. And in less than ten minutes, a woman named Vivian had pulled me back home.

I didn't know why. But I couldn't stop thinking about her.

As Marcus drove me toward the estate, I stared out the window at the passing city lights. Somewhere out there, Vivian was driving home alone. Or maybe she wasn't driving at all. Maybe she'd pulled over to cry again.

I didn't know why, but the thought made my chest ache.