The moment Damian saw his father's reflection in the glass door, his whole body tensed. Panic kicked in as he scrambled to figure out how to stop the blow-up he knew was coming. Then slowly, he turned to face his father, just like everyone else was doing. The company security bowed respectfully to his father. His father stood a few feet away, flanked by two stiff-looking guards in suits, his expression unreadable but his eyes full of disgust—locked right on Damian. But Damian didn’t care about any of that. He tried to take a step forward, hoping to silently plead with him. Only, he didn’t even get that far, as his father’s eyes stopped him cold, followed by his voice—icy and filled with disdain—as he pointed at him like he was something rotten. “I told you, didn’t I? Stay away from anything that carries the Hayes name,” his father snapped, loud enough for the whole crowd to hear. The reporters froze for a moment—then chaos as cameras flashed like lightning and gasps echoed thr

Lara and Ethan straightened up from their respectful bow as Magnus’s black car disappeared past the Aurelius Pharmaceuticals Group down the street, followed by his security escort. “Let's go,” Ethan said, adjusting his suit jacket. As they began walking toward his car, Ethan’s expression grew serious. “Lara, I need you to increase security around my father. All areas. No exceptions.” Her steps slowed slightly. She turned to look at him, suspicion creeping into her voice. “What’s wrong? Why the sudden request?” But Ethan kept walking, his eyes fixed ahead. “Ethan?” she pressed, her voice softer now. He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. “I also want you to look into my army discreetly.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Your army? What’s going on? You’re starting to worry me.” Ethan stood perfectly still, his eyes locked on hers. The weight of his stare made her shift uncomfortably. Cars passed by on the street, but the noise felt distant. All that mattered was the tension crac

The dim lights of the bar cast a warm glow across the wooden counter. It was nearly empty, just the way Ethan liked it. Soft jazz played through the speakers, blending with the quiet clink of ice in glasses and the low murmur of a few scattered conversations. In the corner, the bartender lazily wiped down glasses, clearly not interested in anything past the edge of the bar. Ethan sat alone in a booth, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey, the other holding his phone. He took a slow sip, eyes locked on the screen as one of the trending videos of Damian's father officially cutting ties with his own son played. Ethan had seen it more times than he could count, but it still made him grin. “From this day forward, I no longer recognize him as my son.” As the words echoed through the speakers, his grin grew wider. Then, he let out a small chuckle, tilting the glass as he muttered under his breath, “Good.” He knew Damian's father's decision was a strategy in order to protect th

The voices of Vanessa's family and the soft clinking of the cutlery in the spacious dining room felt distant, like they were happening in another world as Vanessa barely touched her food. She sat quietly, picking at the grilled chicken on her plate as her thoughts spun wildly. She wasn’t there—not really. Her mind was stuck on the look on Damian’s face—the way shock hit him when the cameras caught the exact moment his father had publicly disowned him. "Did he even have anywhere to go now that his father had disowned him?" Her chest ached just thinking about it. Her phone lay beside her, screen dark; still no response from him. She had called too many times already. “He could at least answer my calls.” Frustrated, she let her fork drop onto the plate, the soft clink cutting through the noise around her. "What if he’s breaking down right now and I’m just here… eating? How is he handling everything? Does he have anyone with him?" Her brows pulled together as the troubling thoughts s

The motel looked like it had crawled out of a bad horror movie—flickering neon sign, chipped paint peeling off the walls, and a faint stench of mildew hanging in the air like a warning. The cracked pavement beneath Vanessa’s heels clicked with each cautious step, and she swore she could hear something scuttling in the bushes nearby. Her lips curled in disgust as she pulled her coat tighter around her, like she had just walked into a dumpster fire. “God, this place is vile,” she muttered under her breath. And just like that, Jonathan's voice when he asked if she wanted to degrade herself by continuing to date Damian echoed in her head. He was right. All her life, she had been surrounded by glass chandeliers, polished marble floors, and the fresh scent of imported lilies in the hallways. Not… whatever this was. A cockroach motel. She stopped in front of room 107, the number barely hanging onto the door, screwed in lopsided and half-rusted. “Is this where he’s been living since it