Damien Ross: Wrath of the Warlord Chairman

07: Long Battle

As seconds ticked down, Laura, James, and Chloe were thrown to the pavement outside the hall venue, drenched in humiliation, and still couldn't make sense of what had happened inside.

Laura strode a walk of shame; confusion spoke volumes in her expression as she yelled:

“What in hell’s name just happened? Someone should tell me that isn't real. Did Sheraton regard a convicted rapist over us? Damien barely left jail six hours ago. How did he become her honored guest?”

Questions were thrust in the air, eyes rolling back and forth, and none of them could comprehend how the heck it all happened.

James let out an exasperated sigh; his eyes burned with envy:

“That miscreant keeps attracting hot, beautiful, well-to-do ladies despite being jailed.” He shook his head in frustration and sneered: “I wonder what Sheraton finds attractive about him. Women and their poor taste in men.”

An idea struck Chloe, and her mouth slowly widened:

“I think she needs him to handle her domestic chores, 'cause both are from two diverse worlds that should never merge. She can't stoop so low for a nonentity!”

Laura nodded and bit her lip in pain; she couldn't shake off the shame whirling inside of her. She thought Sheraton would listen to her about Damien, but the reality was one she couldn't have foreseen in a thousand years.

Laura returned her gaze to James with a raised brow. She decided to ask a question that had hung on her lips for a while:

“I thought your father influenced the NewYork Oil Gold’s decision in keeping Oceans safe from the blacklisting. Why did you apologize to Damien when you could have just phoned Mr. Smith? Why winked at me to succumb to Sheraton's command?”

Laura's curiosity was piqued, looking for a scapegoat to pour her frustration on. The thought of her apologizing to her ex-fiancée continually made her stomach grumble.

Chloe also flashed James a serious stare: “You got us into believing Eric Chester wore the Dracula Valmont Ring to the event and had us backing you all along when you weren't certain?”

James avoided eye contact, mostly with Laura, awkwardly clearing his throat:

“Wait a second: don't tell me you both have the slightest idea that the ring belongs to Damien?” Skillfully avoiding Laura's question, he urged on: “You all know he's a petty thief and covered his tracks pretty well. I have no doubts he's only getting closer to Sheraton to leech off her. What more could he offer besides his good looks?”

Laura's mind was a jumbled mess of conflicting thoughts. James managed to wear a serious face, hoping she wouldn't go on asking about his father influencing the initial blacklisting decision, as he had lied about it.

Then Laura's phone vibrated; she drew a sharp breath and ignored it the first time. On the second ring, she yelled, almost smashing her phone on the pavement:

“Unknown number?!”

On the third consistent buzzing, her eyes blared with fire:

“Who the fuck are you? Not a good time!”

A firm diplomatic voice chimed through the other end of the call: “Ms. Ocean. I knew you'd eventually pick up…”

“I wouldn't repeat myself: who are you?”

The caller let out a sneaky smile:

“Uh-huh, feisty as always. I didn't expect less from the heiress of Ocean's Jewelry Expertise.”

After a moment of building anticipation, the caller continued: “I'm someone whose interests with yours are intertwined. I know all that happened inside the hall. I know how desperately you want to have the last laugh against your ex-fiancée, Damien Ross.”

After a pause in motion, Laura’s face struck with suspense as she inquired:

“And what exactly do you want?”

The caller gave a short, complicated chuckle: “Simple; to dethrone Ms. Sheraton Miguel as the COO and have NewYork Oil Gold Conglomerate crumble in misery. Ms. Ocean, I believe you're a smart Damsel and should know when a beneficial collaborative opportunity is knocking on your door.”

“Are you in for the long, intense battle ahead, or would you accept the humiliation smashed on you and allow Damien to win? What's it going to be, Ms. Ocean?”

In slow motion, the humiliating episodes that Laura encountered in the hall flashed across her face, a malicious grin slowly curling in her left cheek:

“I’m all in.”

Simultaneously, back in the hall, NewYork Oil Gold Conglomerate had already shortlisted and announced the top twenty companies that passed through the guidance for the partnership contract.

Ms. Sheraton Miguel led Damien to her office, her perfect features well flaunting, and once more stole the show in motion.

“Lovely move you pulled out there tonight.”

Ms. Miguel batted her eyelashes at Damii and beamed with delight:

“I’m honored, Martial Fortress. I wouldn't have done all that if you hadn't given a signal to carry on.” She lowered her head in respect. “It was entertaining watching you smash Eric Chester’s mouth. Thank you for defending our staff member.”

Ms. Miguel leaned further, her heart pumping with adrenaline:

“Martial Fortress, just say the word, and I'll quickly make the Oceans pay for all they did to you. A snap of your fingers would have them dealt with.”

Damien gave a cold laugh, his tone laced with venom:

“Not so fast, my dear; that will make their pain come so easily, and I wouldn't make it that abrupt.”

“Believe me when I say the Oceans would feel every ounce of heartbreak and betrayal that I felt when they mocked me, threw me out of the villa that I bought, and had my kid sister blackmailed into modern slavery.”

“I’m the Martial Fortress; my word: my bond!”