Damian's POV
The night stretched long after Reed left. The house was back to being silent, and the whiskey's burn was no longer enough to drown his father's words.
Dinner tomorrow.
The message glowed on his phone screen.
He loosened his tie and removed the suit, leaving only the shirt, paced the penthouse, each step echoing against the marble. The city hummed beyond the glass walls, unconscious of the battle tearing inside him.
Gregory never invited. Gregory summoned. And tomorrow was no invitation—it was an order.
Damian stopped before the window, his appearance staring back. Cold gray eyes, a jaw set like stone, shoulders heavy with a weight he refused to admit he carried.
"No heir. No inheritance."
The ultimatum rang in his ears until sleep became impossible.
