Her eyes, with a hint of hope, filled her face. “What do you mean? The doctor said there’s no cure, Damon. What could possibly help now?” Damon hesitated. He knew how far-fetched it sounded, but he couldn’t keep the idea to himself. “There’s a treatment… or rather, an experimental therapy. It’s not something most doctors would suggest because it’s still in its trial stages, but I’ve heard of cases where it worked.” Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What kind of treatment? And why wouldn’t the doctor mention it?” “Because it’s not mainstream,” Damon admitted. “It is an experimental medicine. A mix of targeted immunotherapy and some… unconventional techniques. There’s a doctor I’ve heard about—Dr. Nathan Steele. He’s known for taking on cases like your dad’s. He doesn’t play by the usual rules, but he’s made miracles happen.” Vivian’s heart raced at the prospect of a miracle. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” she demanded with frustration and hope as she stood to her feet.

Damon nodded with his expression resolute. “I’ll handle it,” he assured her, already pulling out his phone to make the necessary arrangements. Klaus closed his eyes he was clearly, exhausted from the brief conversation. Vivian gently squeezed his hand as she sniffles softly beside him, “Daddy, you’ll see,” she whispered. “We’ll fight this together.” As Damon stepped out of the room, Vivian leaned in closer to him, with, her forehead resting against her father’s hand. She could feel the warmth of his skin, “I’m here Daddy, and I’ll be here every step of the way.” Klaus’s lips curved into a faint smile despite his weakness. “You’ve always been my light, Vivian,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “No matter what happens, I want you to know how proud I am of you.” Vivian nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Save your strength, Daddy,” she said softly. “We have a lot to look forward to.” As the hours ticked by, Damon returned with updates, bringing a glimmer of hop

Klaus leaned forward slightly, as his gaze locked on Damon, clearly piqued by his interest. “Go on, Damon. What is it?”Damon took a deep breath as he glanced briefly in the direction Vivian had gone before returning his gaze to Klaus.“Sir, I have no job at the moment,” he said, as his gaze moved to the ground, which suddenly seemed fascinating.“I don’t have the means or the connections to achieve what I’m striving for at the moment,” Damon continued. “But I do have the determination and the willingness to work hard. If it’s not too much to ask… I’d like to work for you. To earn my place, prove my worth, and build a future I can be proud of.”Klaus leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Damon. The room was quiet for a moment, the weight of Damon’s request hanging in the air.“You’re asking for a job?” Klaus said calmly.“Yes, sir,” Damon replied earnestly. “I would really appreciate any job you give me, sir.”A small smile tugged at the corners of Klaus’s lips. He nodded slowly

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Damon. He kept thinking about the call, the promise he and Klaus had made to each other, and the challenge set by Vivian. He wandered through the suite aimlessly as he felt both excitement and anxiety flush through him. By evening, he found himself seated at the desk in the corner of the room, staring at his laptop. The email Amanda had sent with the official details of his position was still open, and he reread it for the third time, ensuring he hadn’t missed anything. It was real. The salary, the perks, the title—it was all there in black and white. He traced his fingers over the keyboard as he tried to draft a thank-you email to Klaus. But words eluded him. How do you express gratitude for a second chance you never thought you’d get? For someone to believe in you even when you had stopped believing in yourself? The knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. Damon frowned and glanced at the clock—it was almost 8 PM. He wasn’t ex

As soon as Vivian walked away, Damon used the opportunity to admire his office. He stepped inside fully this time, letting the door close behind him with a quiet hush. The room was sleek but not loud about it—glass and dark wood, brushed chrome handles, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view that reminded you this wasn’t some startup in a strip mall. It was Whitmore. And he was inside it now. He ran his fingers along the edge of the desk, smooth and cool beneath his skin. The chair felt like something out of a CEO’s catalog—far too comfortable for someone still figuring out where the coffee machine was. A small hum of nerves fluttered in his chest. This was his. That name etched on the glass table didn’t feel borrowed anymore. He was mid-thought when the door clicked open behind him. Damon turned—and saw her. A woman was standing right there by the door, arms folded, her eyes cold like she already didn’t like what she saw. She didn’t smile, didn’t greet him, didn’t even step in. Sh