chapter nine
795 Words
INTERLUDE
When fate intervained
Damon Romano was twenty-four years old, tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly handsome—the kind of man who could walk into a room without saying a word and still command everyone's attention.
At around 6'3", Damon carried himself with the confidence that came from years of responsibility. His dark hair was usually kept neat, his features sharp, and his expression almost permanently serious. He wasn't particularly interested in impressing people. He had grown up around powerful men, and he had learned early that true authority didn't need to announce itself.
There was, however, one thing about him that didn't quite fit his polished image.
A tattoo stretched along his right arm.
It wasn't something Damon had carefully planned or spent months designing.
It was the result of a stupid high-school dare.
His brothers had challenged him to get a tattoo before graduation, expecting him to back out at the last minute.
He hadn't.
Years later, Damon still had it.
He claimed he regretted it.
His brothers never let him forget that he had actually agreed to the dare.
Damon was the eldest of the Romano brothers and, at twenty-four, had already established himself as a successful businessman. He was the CEO of Virelli Innovations, a private technology company specializing in smart security systems and compact safety devices for homes and businesses.
The company had started small but had grown rapidly under Damon's leadership.
He was young, but nobody treated him like a boy.
His employees knew him as demanding, focused, and extremely difficult to impress.
His brothers knew him differently.
To them, he was still the older brother who could lecture them for twenty minutes about something they had done wrong and then quietly make sure they were okay afterward.
That evening, however, Damon wasn't thinking about his brothers.
He wasn't thinking about his father.
And he certainly wasn't thinking about the girl he didn't know existed.
He was thinking about business.
---
It was late.
Much later than Damon had originally planned to be on the road.
He had been scheduled to attend an important meeting that evening, but a series of delays had pushed everything behind schedule.
His phone rang through the car.
His assistant.
Damon answered through the car's hands-free system.
"Talk."
"Mr. Romano, the clients have arrived."
Damon glanced at the clock.
His jaw tightened.
"Already?"
"Yes. They're waiting for you."
"How long have they been there?"
"About fifteen minutes."
Damon exhaled sharply.
The meeting wasn't something he could casually postpone.
The clients were considering a contract worth $2.5 million, and Virelli Innovations had spent weeks preparing for it.
If Damon lost the deal because he couldn't make it to one meeting on time, he would never hear the end of it from himself.
"I'm on my way."
"Sir, they're asking if—"
"I said I'm coming."
He ended the call.
Damon looked ahead at the nearly empty road.
For once, Manhattan's usual traffic seemed to have disappeared.
There were barely any cars.
He checked the time again.
Too late.
His foot pressed harder against the accelerator.
The car moved faster.
The road stretched ahead of him, almost completely empty.
He knew he was speeding.
He knew he should slow down.
But his mind was focused on the meeting.
Two and a half million dollars.
The clients.
The company.
His reputation.
Everything seemed to demand that he get there as quickly as possible.
His phone buzzed again.
His assistant.
Damon ignored it.
"I'll be there," he muttered.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
The city lights passed in blurred streaks around him.
For several minutes, everything seemed fine.
Until it wasn't.
---
A figure suddenly appeared ahead.
Damon's eyes widened.
Someone was near the road.
Too close.
His foot slammed against the brake.
The tires screeched.
The car swerved.
Everything happened within seconds.
Damon grabbed the steering wheel, desperately trying to regain control.
The vehicle veered across the road.
His heart slammed against his chest.
Then—
CRASH.
The sound tore through the quiet night.
Metal collided.
Glass shattered.
The car spun before finally coming to a violent stop.
For several seconds, there was complete silence.
Damon remained frozen behind the wheel.
His breathing was uneven.
His hands still gripped the steering wheel.
The meeting.
The clients.
The $2.5 million deal.
All of it disappeared from his mind.
Something else had happened.
Something far more important.
He slowly looked toward the road.
And then he saw her.
A young girl.
Lying motionless.
Damon's heart dropped.
He didn't know her name.
He didn't know where she lived.
He didn't know why she had been running into the road.
He only knew one thing.
Someone was hurt.
Damon pushed open the car door and rushed toward her.
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