The Billionaire's Sin

Echoes of the Plot

Later that day, Rodriguez stopped by the Serrano mansion. The thought of Damien punishing Amelia gave him an adrenaline rush anytime he thought about it, and he finally wanted to go over to Damien’s house to peek—under the guise of discussing business. He wore the most intriguing mask, smiling thinly as he and Damien exchanged pleasantries, but the words were empty to him over whiskey.

When the discussion ended, and Damien rose to escort him out, Rodriguez's eyes looked around the house as if he kept something in there. His tone shifted to a lazy and almost mocking one.

“So… how’s the little thing from the club?” he asked, “Still keeping you… entertained?”

Damien’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me!?”

“Rodriguez, with all due respect, never speak about Amelia like that again!!,” he snapped, “Do not even speak about her at all!”

Rodrigeuz blinked and was caught off guard. Damien wasn’t just hurting his ego—he was being protective and assertive with his tone, all because of Amelia.

He adjusted his suit, giving Damien an intense look. He left without another word, but the silence was toxic.

The moment he stepped into his car, the mask cracked, and the fury beneath it made its way up.

“How dare Damien Serrano…of all people…speak to me like that because of some cheap girl from my club!?!” he muttered, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles whitened.

Minutes later, his phone beeped with an alert of the exact amount of money Diego owed him; the reference said, ‘Leave Amelia alone!’. The sight made him furious inside. That long, pondering hatred…the one Amelia’s face had always stirred in him now twisted with his bruised ego, birthing into something more dangerous.

Rodriguez began to plot.

The more he replayed how Damien spoke to him because of Amelia, the angrier he boiled within, and vowed to return it tenfold. A slow smile curled on his lips.

Damien waited for Amelia to get back from her baking class before making a decision.

As soon as Ernest, her driver, drove in through the gate and up to the front of the mansion, Damien stepped out onto the front porch.

“Lovely afternoon, my Angel,” he muttered with a smirk, his eyes wandering over her hourglass figure. Amelia’s cheeks flushed instantly. She gave Damien a light hug as his left hand lingered on her waist, caressing her back.

“One of the guards handed me this,” he said, pulling a letter from his back pocket — the one the gatekeepers had given him.

As Amelia scanned the letter, her smile collapsed from a hundred to zero.

“Who sent this? And when was it delivered?” she asked, her gaze locking intensely on Damien.

“The guards don’t know who sent it,” Damien replied. “They said they heard a knock at the gate, and when one of them came out, they found this letter.”

“Oh, and it had a crimson wax seal marked with a single letter: A,” he added.

Amelia glanced at the letter again before fixing her eyes back on Damien.

“What if this is for me? What if it’s a warning Rodriguez sent just for me? Damien, my dad is alone on the outskirts of Cancún… all alone at night.”

“Shhh… nothing is going to happen to you or your father, even if this is a warning from Rodriguez,” Damien said, guiding Amelia into the sitting room and pulling her into a hug.

Amelia’s eyes welled up. “Damien, I am here in this house, enjoying its coziness, while my dad is almost always alone. He still doesn’t know where exactly I am. He’s sick, so he can’t do much for me; he’s just there, hanging onto the hope of my calls with each passing day, and I don’t think that’s right.”

She took a breath. “Damien… I want to go see my father.”

“Amelia, I know you long to see your father, but even right now, I cannot allow that.”

“Even now, seeing this letter?”

“Damien, please! It’s my father I am talking about! Do not tell me what I can or cannot do,” she said, folding her arms and looking away from him.

“Okay, here’s what I’ll do. First thing tomorrow morning, I will have two of my men move your father to an elderly home, so that he can be watched after, protected, and cared for better. The owner is my very good friend, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind that,” he said, cuddling her softly from the back.

“And then, you can see your father again,” he added, whispering into her ear.

“You don’t know how much this means to me,” Amelia said, letting out tears of joy.

Overcome by the moment, her words began to spill like a cracked jar.

“Twenty-one years ago, my father’s business began to crumble after a significant incident, which forced him to borrow money from Rodriguez in hopes of saving it... But things only grew worse, and in desperation, my mother, Annastasia, had gone to Rodriguez to beg for work, hoping to help repay the debt. Not long after... she became pregnant with me and mysteriously passed away giving birth.”

Amelia’s voice trembled, her breath hitching.

“My papa was left with a newborn, crushing grief, and a debt that refused to disappear.”

Damien pulled her in for a hug, his left hand stroking her hair and the right caressing her lower back. There was a deep ache in his chest as he listened; it was clear to him that Amelia had endured more than most people could bear, robbed of a normal childhood.

“I’ve already paid Rodriguez the money your father owed,” Damien murmured.

Amelia lifted her head, only to collapse into another round of sobs.

“Shhhh…” he said gently, pressing his forehead to hers. “I don’t need any of that, my love. Your comfort is my only concern.”

In that quiet moment, with his arms around her, he promised her one thing—no matter what happened, she would never have to face any of it alone again.

From that day, Damien tightened the security in the house and relocated Diego for his safety. He also ensured Ernest, Amelia’s driver, carried a tracking watch. Damien knew Rodriguez wouldn’t remain quiet for long. That silence meant something.

One day, as Amelia left for her baking class, a woman stood at the Serrano mansion gate, asking to see her. The guard called Damien—he was working from home.

One look at her and he could guess who she was, and Damien froze. It was as if he was staring at an older version of Amelia; the same eyes, same hair, same lips, same complexion.

“Who are you?” he asked, though he already had a guess.

The woman stepped forward, holding out a document. “I’m Anastasia… Amelia’s mother. This is her birth certificate.”

Damien believed her instantly. The resemblance was undeniable. Amelia had told him her mother was dead, and she mentioned her name, Annastasia.

He led her inside. In the living room, Anastasia told her story—matching Amelia’s account until she dropped the part that made Damien’s chest tighten. She was supposed to be dead. The doctor who delivered Amelia had conspired with Rodriguez to kill her. She only survived thanks to another doctor who risked everything to help her escape.

Damien’s mind was puzzled. “Why would Rodriguez want her gone?”He didn’t ask.

When Amelia returned, she stopped cold at the sight of her mother. The flood of questions was instant, her emotions tangled: shock, disbelief, relief, confusion. Anastasia repeated her story, and Amelia listened in stunned silence.

By the end, she and Damien agreed—Anastasia would stay with them, at least until they figured out how to go about this situation.

Damien had always known Rodriguez, but now, it seemed he only knew him from a distance. Now, he realized just how filthy his hands were.

A few days later, Amelia spotted a black car parked near her baking school. A man in a black suit and dark shades always sat in the driver’s seat. He didn’t seem threatening, but it was strange—she hadn’t noticed him since she started the class.

“It's probably someone’s driver… like Ernest,” she told herself, but the unease lingered.

One afternoon, Ernest was waiting for her when someone asked him to repark. As he moved the car, a sharp hiss cut through the air—a tire had gone flat. He frowned. He’d parked fine. The tires were fine earlier.

With no choice and knowing a mechanic nearby, he drove off to get it fixed. The repair dragged on, eating into Amelia’s closing time.

She stepped out of the school gate, scanning the area. No Ernest. She reached for her phone—then noticed a man in black walking toward her. Her instincts kicked in.

She quickened her pace. His footsteps matched.

Her heartbeat surged. The steps grew faster.

Turning a corner, she nearly jumped when Ernest’s car screeched up beside her.

“Get in!” he called.

She dove inside, breathing hard.

Glancing in the mirror, she saw no sign of the man. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” she thought.

But she wasn’t. She had no idea that it was a failed attempt.

The next day, like any typical day, Ernest was driving Amelia to class when a black car screeched to a halt in front of them, forcing him to slam the brakes.

Before he could react, doors flew open and men surrounded them.

“Out!” one barked, yanking Amelia’s door.

Ernest lunged at him, punching hard, but another man pinned him back. Amelia screamed as rough hands dragged her from the seat. Ernest fought, but he was outnumbered.

They forced both Amelia and Ernest into the car. The doors slammed, and the driver zoomed off.

Minutes later, Damien’s phone rang.

“Guess who I have with me…” Rodriguez’s voice dripped with mockery.

Damien’s grip tightened. “Rodriguez, if you—”

Click. The call ended.

Rage surged through him. “He’s got Amelia. And Ernest.”

Two of his men were already on their feet. Damien grabbed his keys. “We move. Now.”

The SUV tore out of the gates, Damien’s mind locked on one thing—getting Amelia back.