THE HIGH GROUND

THE WEIGHT OF THE TRUTH

The relentless ticking of the minimalist wall clock was the only sound left in the expansive executive suite. By the time the heavy ebony doors of the inner office finally opened and Daemond King Jr. strode out, his posture as rigid and commanding as ever, the clock read exactly 10:00 PM. He left without a word, a silent storm passing through the lobby, leaving Bella alone in the dimming light.

Bella didn't waste a single second. The moment the elevator doors closed behind her terrifyingly handsome boss, she let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding all afternoon. Her fingers flew across her desk, shutting down her system, stacking her remaining scratch pads, and grabbing her trench coat. The office premise was a ghost town; almost everyone had already left for the night.

Panic fluttered in her chest as she rushed toward the exit. Missing the late-night bus meant waiting another forty-five minutes in the chilly night air, a luxury her exhausted body simply couldn’t afford. She pushed through the heavy glass main doors, her heels clicking rapidly against the concrete plaza, her mind entirely focused on the transit schedule.

But as she rounded the corner near the edge of the property, she stopped dead in her tracks.

There, standing under the amber glow of a solitary streetlamp, was her best friend, Maggie. But Maggie wasn't alone. She was talking animatedly with Robert—Mr. King’s personal bodyguard.

Bella blinked, utterly surprised by the sight. Robert was a formidable presence. An ex-military officer and former special agent, his absolute loyalty to Daemond was legendary within the upper echelons of the company. Rumor had it he had taken bullets twice in the past, shielding his billionaire boss from targeted attacks without a moment's hesitation. In his late 20s, Robert was incredibly sharp, highly intelligent, and built like a brick wall. While his face was relatively average-looking, his sheer muscular frame was undeniable, standing just a fraction of an inch taller than his massive, imposing boss. And, true to form, he was dressed completely in black.

Yet, right now, this human lethal weapon was doing something Bella never thought possible.

He was smiling. In fact, he was actively blushing.

Maggie cracked a loud, vibrant joke, her laughter ringing out across the quiet courtyard. Robert’s stoic demeanor completely melted, a genuine, boyish grin breaking across his rugged face.

*Huh… well, that is interesting,* Bella thought, a genuine chuckle escaping her lips. The heavy stress of her first day seemed to evaporate for a brief second.

"Hi! Sorry to interrupt," Bella said, stepping into the circle of light and standing right in front of them. "But what are you still doing here, Mag? Shouldn't you be at home by now?"

Maggie jumped slightly, her cheeks instantly flushing a deep crimson. "Ahh, here you are! I was waiting for you. Rob saw me standing out here all alone and came over to check on me, just to make sure everything was okay. Nothing else, I swear!" Maggie chuckled nervously, her voice pitching slightly higher than usual.

Robert cleared his throat, adjusting his dark jacket as his professional, stone-faced mask instantly snapped back into place. However, the faint hint of pink on his ears gave him away.

"Miss Swan. Mag," Robert said, his tone polite, respectful, and perfectly measured. "I will take my leave now. If you need any help getting home, please don't hesitate to ask. I can easily make transportation arrangements for you both."

"Oh, no, Rob, we got this! You take care of yourself. Bye!" Maggie said, offering him an overly bright, enthusiastic smile that practically beamed in the darkness.

Bella looked between the two of them, biting the inside of her cheek to hide the massive, knowing smirk that was threatening to break across her face. She pressed her lips together tightly, nodding a polite goodbye to the bodyguard.

"Have a good night, Robert," Bella added softly.

With a crisp nod, Robert turned and walked away into the shadows of the parking lot. The moment his broad shoulders disappeared from view, Maggie grabbed Bella’s arm, hauling her toward Maggie's parked sedan. Both of them practically jumped into the front seats, slamming the doors shut to seal out the cold night.

"Really? *Rob* and *Mag*?" Bella teased immediately, turning in her seat and playfully pinching Maggie’s arm. "Since when did this happen? When did you two become a matching set of abbreviations?"

"Babe, chill! It's literally nothing," Maggie squealed, burying her face in her hands for a brief second before turning the key in the ignition. "I just like 'Rob.' It’s short and easy to call him. And honestly, he seemed really happy about it! And you know how much I love being called Mag. That’s it, girl, seriously, don't hype yourself up into a frenzy!"

Despite her protests, Maggie was completely red, blushing from her cheeks all the way down to her neck.

Bella couldn't help but burst out laughing, the genuine warmth of the moment a welcome contrast to the cold, suffocating atmosphere she had endured with Daemond King all day. Maggie shifted the car into drive, and both girls laughed together as they finally left the corporate premises, the headlights cutting through the dark city streets.

Behind them, standing in the shadows of the parking structure, Robert watched the taillights of Maggie's car fade into the distance. True to his protective instincts, he had subtly checked the perimeter of their vehicle before allowing them to leave. Once he was certain they were safely on their way, he turned on his heel and walked toward a sleek, matte-black Bugatti parked far back in a secluded, dark corner of the lot.

Robert opened the driver's side door and stepped into the quiet luxury of the supercar.

In the back seat, shrouded in the dim afternoon-turned-night shadows, sat Daemond King Jr. He hadn't bothered to turn on the interior overhead lights. Instead, the sharp, angular contours of his flawless, marble-like face were illuminated solely by the cold, blue glow of his smartphone screen.

Daemond’s dark eyes were fixed intently on a digital file. It was Bella Swan’s complete background profile.

Everything about her life was laid bare across the high-resolution screen. Her birthday, her educational background, her employment history. There were no photos of her parents—only a stark, clinical legal note stating that they had tragically passed away in a devastating accident years ago. There was, however, a photograph of her elderly grandmother, alongside copies of Bella's immaculate high school records and stellar university reports. Every single photo, scrap of data, and digital footprint that could possibly be mined from the internet had been compiled into this single, exhaustive document.

Daemond scrolled slowly, his expression an unreadable, icy mask, though a strange, unfamiliar tension tightened in his chest.

"What did you find?" Daemond asked, breaking the silence. His voice was a low, serious baritone that commanded absolute attention.

Robert adjusted the rearview mirror, meeting his boss's piercing gaze through the glass.

"Nothing out of the ordinary in her history, Sir," Robert reported cleanly. "From junior school, to high school, through college—she has never been involved with any boy or man. According to her close acquaintances, she strictly prefers to stay single until marriage. She is also a part-time artist; she sells her paintings online to supplement her income."

Robert paused for a fraction of a second, ensuring his delivery remained perfectly objective. "She completely runs the household and single-handedly funds her grandmother’s expensive hospital bills. She was actually accepted into a highly prestigious, top-tier Ivy League university in another city, but she ultimately refused to move because of her grandmother's critical health condition. She walked away from the opportunity, choosing instead to study at a local government college here to stay close to her."

Daemond’s thumb froze on the screen.

"Furthermore," Robert continued, "she had several obsessed suitors during her college years who pursued her aggressively for a very long time. Among them was Richie D'Costa—the son of your rival company's chairman, and the direct heir to the Costa Corporation. But Miss Swan never gave him the time of day. She never dated him, nor did she ever answer any of his persistent approaches."

The words struck Daemond’s mind like a sudden, violent jolt of electricity.

For a long, agonizing moment, the billionaire CEO couldn't breathe. His eyes remained trapped on the screen, a sudden, suffocating wave of profound guilt washing over him. The pieces of a fractured puzzle suddenly slammed together in his mind, forming a picture that was blindingly clear.

*She was never with anyone. No boyfriends. No past lovers. Nothing.*

The realization hit him with the force of a physical blow. That meant she was entirely pure. She was a virgin.

Suddenly, her erratic, panicked behavior, her fierce defensiveness, and the sheer, raw vulnerability she had displayed during *that night* made perfect, undeniable sense. He had misjudged her. He had viewed her through a lens of cynical corporate suspicion, assuming she was like every other social climber trying to orchestrate an encounter with him. But she wasn't. She was entirely innocent.

And yet, as the guilt settled deep into his bones, it did nothing to extinguish the dark, burning addiction that had taken root in his soul since the moment he touched her. If anything, the revelation only fanned the flames of his obsession, turning it into something far more dangerous.

Then, Robert's final words echoed in his mind. *Richie D'Costa.*

The mention of the rival heir—a man who had dared to chase after what was inherently his—sent a sudden, volatile wave of pure rage roaring through Daemond’s veins. His vision narrowed. The thought of another man, especially a Costa, looking at Bella, pursuing her, or trying to touch her, made his blood run boiling hot.

*No... never,* Daemond whispered fiercely in the silence of his own mind.

The cold, playful teasing he had inflicted on her earlier in the office evaporated, replaced by an all-consuming, terrifying possessiveness that rattled him to his very core.

His jaw tightened so hard the bone practically clicked, his long fingers gripping the edge of his phone until his knuckles turned white.

*She is mine. Only... mine.*