Revenge In A suit & Tie

Damon’s Rage: Stops Olivia Cold

I woke up to some faint city noise coming from outside the windows of the penthouse, and the stark reality that the world now knew parts of me that I had buried away my whole life.

The sunlight seeping across the room was almost sadistic. My phone had remained on the nightstand while the view outside of that glass reminded me of everything that awaited me beyond it.

I didn’t want to look.

But I did.

The notifications had grown exponentially overnight. News articles. Gossip blogs. Social media threads detailing the “fall from grace” of Damon Vireaux's fiancée. Hashtags that made my stomach turn.

#VireauxScandal

#WhoIsSierraMonroe

My throat felt dry. I felt shaky as I scrolled. Olivia didn’t just humiliate me in that ballroom. She had handed it to the world on a silver platter.

I came across one headline that stabbed into me like a piece of glass:

“From Shadows to Spotlight: The True Past of Sierra Monroe.”

I didn’t click it. I couldn’t.

The next thing I knew, the bedroom door opened and Damon walked through. He was already dressed smartly in a charcoal grey suit, tie slightly loose, and jaw tense.

His eyes struck mine without delay.

"Don't," he said somberly, marching toward me.

"Don't what?" I was too timid to use my normal voice.

"Don't read any of it." He collapsed in the chair beside the bed, easily gathering my hand in his. His grip returned warmth to my fingers. "It's bullshit. Every single word."

"Damon..." I swallowed hard. "That photo made it to the world. They know now. No one will forget."

His eyes darkened, but not with disappointment; it was a blaze I hadn't seen on him before. "Let them look. Let them gossip. What they don't get to do is lay a finger on you. And Olivia..." His jaw flexed. "Olivia just signed the death warrant to her reputation."

I blinked at him. "You... you're getting her?"

"I'm done letting people think they can come after you without repercussions," he said, a shard of steel in his voice. "In the ballroom, I warned her. She didn't care. Now I'll make sure she regrets it every single second."

A shiver ran through me then; not of fear, but of something dangerously close to awe.

Damon burst through the day like a storm, and I revolved around him much like a leaf in the wind.

By noon we were in his office on the top floor of Vireaux Holdings - the glass walls mulled by a ceiling of a sky that seemed to stretch into infinity.

Team Vireaux had come together, and their faces were tense while he laid out his orders. "I want every ounce of Olivia Carmichael erased from our PR campaigns," he said, with a sharp, commanding tone, "effective immediately. All contracts we have with her and her affiliates should be terminated. And if she thinks she can use this stunt against us - I want legal - ready to bury her in lawsuits." The room was silent except for scribbles of pens and rapid hitting of keyboards.

One of the execs, a woman named Marcy, cleared her throat, "Mr. Vireaux... the social engagement is already going off the rails in terms of fallout. There’s already speculation that Sierra is lying about the engagement."

I flinched, but Damon didn’t bat an eye.

“The engagement is not up for debate,” he replied, flat. “Sierra is my fiancée, and if anyone has an issue with that, I advise them to walk out of this company today.”

You could feel the weight of his words settle over the room, like a thundercloud. No one moved. No one dared.

And for the first time since last night, a tenuous strand of strength seemed to return to my spine.

He wasn’t embarrassed by me, he didn’t seem to falter.

He was standing. For me.

By the time we arrived home that evening, Damon’s rage was clinical. He was on the phone with everyone lawyers, PR strategists, even a private investigator he’d apparently hired on retainer.

"Dig into Olivia’s finances,” he said at one point walking around our living room. “If she’s brazen enough to start a war, I want to know where to hit her to hurt the most.”

I watched him, feeling a complex swirl of pride and uncomfortableness.

THIS wasn’t love. This was Damon in his element protector, ferocious, unpredictable.

But another part of me wondered: how long would we live like this? Until the next fire? Until the next attack?

“Damon,” I said softly when he finally put down the phone for the last time, “what if this isn’t the end? What if Olivia… or whoever sent those messages… still has more?”

He took three long strides across the room to me and cradled my face in his hands. "Then we'll face it, together. You hear me? I'm not allowing anyone to rewrite your life for you." His words wrapped around me like a lifeline that I wanted so much to believe.

Two days later, Damon unleashed his fury on Olivia in a way only he could.

We were at Vireaux Towers again, in the executive boardroom. Olivia had been summoned under the guise of "urgent business," striding across the lobby and through

the entrance into the boardroom, decked out in another one of her flawless white suits and her head held high.

And then she saw me, sitting at the table next to Damon.

Her smile faltered. "What is this?"

Damon cut in before she could process the gravity of the room. "This is me giving you one last chance to appreciate the magnitude of the mistake you have just made."

Olivia felt the weight of his words and her chin lifted but her eyes nervously bounced between Damon and me. "I exposed the truth. People have the right to know who she really is."

"The truth?" Damon's voice was chilled ice. "The truth is you are done. I have terminated your contracts with all of Vireaux subsidiaries.

My names will be filed for defamation and for harassment by the end of the day. And if you have friends in the socialite world like you think you do, wait until they realize you’ve been blacklisted from all of our major sponsors events…maybe you should think again.”

The color drained from Olivia’s face.

“You…you can’t do that…”

“Oh, but I can,” Damon said, leaning forward, and low and lethal in tone. “And, I will. You crossed a line when you went after Sierra, and you don’t get to come back from that.”

I watched as Olivia’s bravado caved in. For once, she had no witticism left to unleash…no venom left to spit. She walked out of the room as silent as she had entered. Her shoes clicked behind her retreat; it sounded like defeat.

Damon let out a breath. There was stillness in the room after the storm passed. He turned to me and put his hand next to mine under the table.

“It’s over,” he said quietly.

I wanted to hope that he was right. I wanted to believe this shadow was the last we had to fight.

But that night, I curled up to him as we fell asleep, my phone vibrated again.

Unknown Number:

You think she was the threat? How cute. Tomorrow, Damon will discover what he has been kept from. And this time, he won't forgive.

I gasped and my hands shook around the phone.

It wasn't until the constant shuffling from Damon next to me broke the silence, that I heard his voice rasping awake, "Sierra? What's the matter?"

I turned the screen of the phone down and my heart raced.

Because if he saw that… the cliff I was balancing on might finally collapse underneath me.

The anonymous blackmailer is not done. Olivia might be out of the way, but the real threat is just beginning, threatening to reveal something to Damon that could destroy their fragile happiness.