In the spotlight
1395 Words
The grand ballroom of the Westbridge Hotel buzzed with flashing cameras and polished smiles. Reporters, influencers, and investors milled around, sipping champagne and waiting for the evening’s main attraction: the unveiling of Blackwood Corporation’s upcoming international tech initiative.
Ava adjusted the pearl clasp on her neck and inhaled slowly as Damien reached for her hand.
“You ready?” he asked, voice low.
“I should be asking you that,” she replied, forcing a smile.
They stood side by side, the picture-perfect power couple. And tonight, that image was more important than ever.
The doors opened.
“Mr. Blackwood! Miss Morgan!”
A flood of flashbulbs nearly blinded Ava as they stepped into the room. The press surged, and Damien subtly placed a hand at the small of her back, guiding her forward.
“Smile,” he murmured.
She did.
They made their way toward the media platform, where a podium and mic waited. As Damien went up to greet the organizers, Ava lingered near the edge of the crowd. Just long enough to overhear.
A cluster of gossiping women whispered behind her.
“She’s just arm candy. You can tell she’s not from our world.”
“Bet she bought that dress secondhand.”
“Did you see the way she looked at the camera? Amateur.”
Ava’s stomach twisted. Her fists clenched, but she didn’t turn. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
But Damien had heard.
From across the room, his eyes narrowed. Without hesitation, he returned to Ava’s side, slipping his arm around her waist with a casual confidence that made the murmuring hush.
He leaned toward her ear. “Come with me.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Trust me.”
He led her up the stage, ignoring the planned script. The host blinked in confusion but didn’t dare interrupt as Damien took the mic.
“Before we begin,” he said, “I want to address something important.”
The crowd quieted.
“This woman beside me is not just my fiancée,” Damien continued, voice firm, cool, and clear. “She is intelligent, fierce, and plays a crucial role in the future of this company and my life. Any event I attend, she belongs here just as much as I do.”
Whispers swept through the room.
Ava’s breath caught.
“And if anyone questions her place, at my side, in this industry, or in this room, you can question me instead.”
Gasps.
Cameras flashed.
The moment Damien placed his hand over Ava’s and looked at her like she was the only person in the room, the world stopped pretending.
The applause started slowly.
Then it spread.
Even the gossiping women clapped, faces red with embarrassment.
As they stepped down, Ava kept her composure, but inside, everything had shifted.
Later, in a quieter corner of the ballroom, Ava finally turned to him.
“Why did you do that?”
Damien looked down at her, eyes steady. “Because I meant it.”
“But this is a contract.”
“Is it?”
She searched his face. “I thought you didn’t care what people say.”
“I don’t.” He smirked. “But I care what they say about you.”
Her walls threatened to crack again, but Ava pushed back the emotion.
“Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Damien’s expression changed, softer, conflicted.
“Too late for that,” he murmured.
Meanwhile, across the city, Victor Gates stared at the event feed from his office, lips curled in disgust.
“She’s changing him,” Elena said, arms folded.
“He’s slipping,” Victor replied. “That speech? That wasn’t Damien Blackwood. That was a man getting weak.”
“Then it’s time we remind him who we are.”
Victor stood and turned toward the window. “Let’s dig deeper into Ava Morgan. Everyone has a past. Let’s make sure hers gets a spotlight of its own.”
The applause still echoed faintly as the crowd dispersed into smaller conversations. Waiters resumed weaving through the glittering ballroom with glasses of champagne, and the tension that had earlier coiled in Ava’s chest was slowly beginning to ease.
Damien had defended her, boldly, publicly. And for a moment, she’d almost believed the warmth in his voice wasn’t for show.
Almost.
She turned to thank him again, but Damien was no longer beside her.
Her brows pinched. He was just here.
Scanning the room, she caught a glimpse of him pushing open a door near the hallway, abrupt, hurried, his posture stiff like something had snapped.
Without thinking, Ava moved.
She weaved past mingling guests and stepped into the hall, heels quiet against the marble floor. The door hadn’t closed fully. A soft click signaled it had only latched lightly.
It was the private lounge, dimly lit, lined with bookshelves and old paintings, meant for high-profile guests needing a break.
She pushed the door open slowly.
“Damien?”
No answer.
She stepped inside.
The air was thick, quiet except for the sound of uneven breathing. Her gaze swept the room, and there he was. Standing near the bar counter, back to her, head bowed. One hand braced the edge of the marble, the other gripping a lowball glass so tightly his knuckles were white.
He hadn’t touched the drink.
“Damien?” she said again, softer this time.
He didn’t move.
“I’m sorry,” she offered gently. “I didn’t mean to follow you but…”
“It’s today,” he said, voice hoarse.
Ava froze.
“My mother died on this day. Four years ago.”
The words cut through the silence.
She moved closer, cautiously. “I didn’t know.”
“Not many do.” His tone was flat. “I never talk about her. Never wanted to.”
He finally turned. The hardness in his features was cracked, the arrogance gone. For the first time, Ava saw something else, grief. Quiet, long-buried grief he’d refused to share with the world.
“She was everything,” Damien said. “Smart. Elegant. Fierce. The kind of woman people remembered. She built this empire with my father, brick by brick. And when she died…” His throat bobbed. “Everything fell apart.”
Ava’s heart ached. She stepped beside him, hesitated, then placed a hand gently on his arm.
Damien didn’t pull away.
“I never processed it,” he continued. “Didn’t have time. I took over everything within weeks. The board didn’t care that I was grieving. They only cared that the heir didn’t break.”
“You didn’t,” she said quietly.
“Didn’t I?” His bitter smile said otherwise. “I became colder. Sharper. I stopped trusting. I cut off anyone who reminded me what it felt like to lose.”
Ava’s fingers curled slightly around his sleeve. “Including love?”
Damien looked at her, expression unreadable. “Including everything.”
They stood in silence for a beat.
“Why now?” she asked. “Why let me see this?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe because tonight, when you looked at me… you weren’t pretending. And for once, I didn’t want to either.”
Ava’s breath caught.
He stepped closer, his voice low. “You’re under my skin, Ava. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
Her heart thudded painfully.
But before she could respond, he took a breath and turned away, gathering himself.
“This doesn’t change the contract,” he said, more to the air than to her. “It just… changes me.”
Ava didn’t follow immediately. She watched him steady his shoulders, swipe his hand down his suit, and return to the version of Damien Blackwood the world expected to see.
But now she knew better.
Behind the tailored armor was a man still bleeding.
And maybe… just maybe… she wasn’t the only one faking strength.
Meanwhile, Victor Gates stood at the edge of the ballroom, watching Damien reemerge with practiced poise.
Elena leaned close. “He looks shaken.”
“Good,” Victor murmured. “Even wolves have wounds. And I intend to open his wide.”
He turned his phone toward her, displaying a dossier.
“Time to hit where it hurts. Let’s see what Ava Morgan is hiding.”
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