Broken Billionaire

Billionaires Don’t Apologize

Chapter 4:

Damien Blackwell didn’t sleep much.

He stood by the massive window in his study, scotch in hand, the skyline reflected in the glass like a cage made of stars and steel. Somewhere on the other side of the penthouse, Lena was probably curled in bed. He wondered if she could sleep surrounded by so much silence.

He used to think silence meant control.

Now it felt like something else—something he didn’t have a word for.

---

In the morning, Lena woke to the scent of fresh espresso and soft instrumental music. She padded into the kitchen in one of the oversized cashmere robes she'd found in the closet—of course even the bathrobes here were designer.

She found Damien already dressed in another impossibly perfect suit, reading the financial section as if nothing from last night lingered between them.

“You didn’t sleep,” she said.

He didn’t look up. “Sleep is inefficient.”

“And cold showers build character?” she asked, opening the fridge. “This place is ridiculous.”

He finally glanced her way, and something flickered in his eyes at the sight of her—hair still messy, eyes still soft with sleep. Not Lena the fiancée. Just Lena.

“You’ll need to be ready by 10,” he said. “We’re having brunch with my mother.”

Lena blinked. “Your… mother?”

He nodded. “She’s flying in early from Milan. She wants to meet the woman I’m ‘madly in love with.’” His tone was dry, but his eyes held a warning.

Lena crossed her arms. “What do I need to know about her?”

Damien put down his paper. “She’s sharp. Suspicious. And she never liked anyone I dated.”

“Sounds charming,” Lena said.

“Try not to challenge her unless you’re prepared to win.”

---

Two hours later, they walked into a glass-ceilinged restaurant overlooking Central Park. Damien’s mother, Victoria Blackwell, was already seated, immaculately dressed in white silk and diamonds that whispered old money and old grudges.

Her eyes met Lena’s with immediate, practiced scrutiny.

“So this is the girl,” she said, not rising. “You’re prettier than I expected.”

“Thank you,” Lena said calmly, offering her hand.

Victoria ignored it. “But beauty doesn’t last, dear. I hope you have more than a nice face to offer my son.”

“Only my entire personality,” Lena replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Damien hid a smirk behind his water glass.

---

Brunch was a battlefield disguised as a meal.

Victoria asked questions that sounded polite but were meant to cut—about Lena’s education, her background, her intentions. Lena answered each with grace, but she felt the weight of every glance Damien didn’t intercept.

When it was over, Victoria stood and said coolly, “She’s not the worst you’ve brought home.”

Which, from her, might’ve been the closest thing to a blessing.

---

In the car afterward, Damien finally spoke.

“You handled her better than most.”

“High praise,” Lena muttered. “Your mother thinks I’m after your money.”

“She’s not wrong to think that,” he said without emotion.

Lena turned sharply. “Excuse me?”

“You agreed to this arrangement for financial help. You said it yourself.”

“That’s not the same as using you,” she snapped. “I’m here for my sister. Not your bank account.”

Damien looked at her then, and for once, his expression cracked. Guilt, or something like it, flickered through.

“…You’re right,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Lena blinked. “Billionaires don’t apologize.”

“I don’t,” he said. “Not unless I mean it.”

---

And for a moment, the space between them shifted—just enough to feel like something real might be hiding underneath all the lies.

to be continued........