Disgraced Heir Returns

2: BETRAYALS

Damian stumbled toward his car.

His hands were shaking so badly he dropped his keys twice before finally unlocking the door. He slid into the driver's seat and just sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white.

The media was still swarming outside his building. He could see them through the rearview mirror. Vultures. All of them.

*How long would it take before they confiscated this car too?*

He started the engine. Pulled out of the parking lot. The city blurred past him. He didn't know where he was going. He just needed to get away.

His phone buzzed on the passenger seat. He ignored it.

His mind was a mess. The agents. The warrant. The forged documents. Someone had done this to him. Someone had planted evidence. Someone had destroyed everything he had built.

But who?

He thought about everyone he knew. Every business partner. Every rival. Every—

He almost swerved off the road. A truck blared its horn at him. He jerked the wheel, barely avoiding a crash.

*Focus, Damian. Focus.*

But he couldn't focus. His mind kept going back to the conference room. The look on Mr. Kensington's face. The disgust. The betrayal.

He almost swerved again. This time he pulled over to the side of the road. His heart was pounding. His hands were sweating.

He needed to talk to someone. Someone who would understand. Someone who would believe him.

Jason.

His best friend. The one person he trusted more than anyone. Even more than his parents.

Damian grabbed his phone. His fingers fumbled as he dialed.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Finally, a click.

"Jason? Jason, thank God. I need to talk to you. Something terrible happened. The federal agents—they raided my headquarters. They said I'm under investigation for fraud and money laundering. It's insane. I didn't do anything. Someone set me up. I don't know how to convince them. They have evidence, Jason. It looks so real. I don't know what to do."

He stopped. Took a breath. His voice was shaking.

"Can you meet me? We can grab a drink. I just need to talk to someone. Please. I'm losing my mind."

A long pause.

Then Jason sighed. It was a dismissive sound. The kind of sigh you give when you're annoyed.

"Seriously, Damian?"

Damian blinked. "What?"

"I don't have time for this. Figure your shit out. I have more important things to focus on."

The words hit Damian like a physical blow. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the fact that I always told you if you were doing something illegal, you should stop. And you kept telling me everything was pure. But come on, Damian. There's no way you grew that fast without putting your hand in something slimy. I knew it. I always knew it."

Damian's mouth went dry. "Jason, I didn't do anything. I told you. Someone set me up."

Jason laughed. It was cold. Bitter. "Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Damian felt something crack inside him. This wasn't just a friend doubting him. This was the person he trusted most in the world. The person he had always supported. Always helped.

He thought about all the times Jason had called him for business advice. All the times Damian had given him money when he was struggling. All the times he had believed in Jason when no one else did.

And now this.

"Jason," Damian said slowly, "do you have a hand in this? Did you plant something bad against my company?"

Silence.

Then Jason spoke. His voice was flat. Emotionless.

"You're not that important, Damian. And I have more important things to focus on. Sort your things out. Stop throwing baseless accusations. Goodbye."

The line went dead.

Damian stared at his phone. The screen was dark. His reflection stared back at him. Pale. Hollow.

*Did Jason just...*

He couldn't finish the thought. Couldn't process what had just happened. His best friend. His only real friend. Dismissing him like he was nothing.

He dropped the phone onto the passenger seat. It landed with a soft thud.

He sat there for a long time. Just breathing. Just trying to keep himself together.

Finally, he pulled back onto the road. He didn't know where he was going. He just needed to get home. To the one place that still felt safe.

---

He turned into his driveway. His home. His sanctuary.

It was a beautiful building. Modern. Sleek. Glass and steel. But there was something about it that hinted at his personality. The security system was state-of-the-art. The lights were automated. The gate opened at the touch of a button on his phone.

*How long before they confiscate this too?*

He pulled into the garage. Turned off the engine. Sat there for a moment.

His phone buzzed. He looked at the screen. Aurora.

He answered with a heavy heart. "Aurora."

"Damian." Her voice was sharp. Demanding. "What does the news mean? Why are the media calling you a fraud?"

He closed his eyes. "Aurora, you know it's a lie. You know me. You know I would never do something like that."

"I don't care if it's a lie or not," she snapped. "I care about what people think. The wedding is in a few days. Our engagement was supposed to be the event of the year. But now everyone is talking about you like you're a criminal."

"I'm trying my best," he said. "Someone is trying to frame me. I just need time to figure out who."

She laughed. It was sharp. Dismissive. "Time? We don't have time. I need you to fix this before the wedding. Do you understand me? Fix it. Or I'll have to make some difficult decisions."

"Aurora, please. Just give me—"

"I don't care about your excuses. Fix it. Goodbye."

The line went dead.

Damian stared at his phone. Again.

*This isn't happening. This can't be happening.*

He dragged himself out of the car. Walked from the garage to the porch. His legs felt heavy. Like he was wading through mud.

He unlocked the front door. Stepped inside.

His home was simple. Not flashy like some tech billionaires' houses. Just clean lines and modern furniture. But hints of his personality were everywhere. The smart thermostat. The automated blinds. The sound system that played soft classical music whenever he walked in.

There were photos on the wall. Some of his family. Some of Jason. Some of Aurora.

He turned away from them.

He walked into the kitchen. Poured himself a glass of water. His hand was still shaking.

He glanced at his phone. Greg had texted him.

*"Sir, I've reached the legal team. They're saying they'll take care of it. But I couldn't lock the HQ. The federal agents sealed it off. I was able to pay off the staff before they left though. Let me know if you need anything. I'm here."*

Damian sighed. Greg. The only person who still believed in him. The college kid he had taken a chance on.

He tugged on his tie. It felt too tight. He loosened it. Then pulled it off completely.

The TV was on. He hadn't even noticed. He looked at the screen.

His father. Marcus Cross. Surrounded by a small group of eager journalists.

"Mr. Cross, do you believe your son could do something like this?"

Marcus looked into the camera. His face was grave. Serious. The picture of a concerned father.

"Damian hasn't always been the brightest," he said. "He struggled in university. He failed so many courses we nearly withdrew him. His success was... surprising, to say the least. So I can't say if he's guilty or innocent. But if the media says he's a criminal, then they might be right."

Damian stared at the screen. His father. The man who had never believed in him. The man who had always called him a disappointment.

Now he was saying this. On live television.

The camera panned to his mother. Isabella Cross. Her face was wet with tears.

"I can't believe my son would choose to embarrass and disgrace me this way," she sobbed. "Everything I worked for. Everything I sacrificed. And now this? I have no choice but to disown him. I can't be associated with a criminal."

She looked directly into the camera. Her eyes were red. Her voice was trembling.

"Damian, if you're watching this... you are no longer my son. I don't know who you've become. But you're not the boy I raised."

The screen went to commercial.

Damian stood there. Frozen. The glass of water slipped from his hand. The shattering sound,  sending echoes to the house.

He didn't hear it. Didn't feel it.

All he could hear was his mother's voice. All he could see was his father's face.

The tears which he was certain was fake as she had said. You are no longer my son.

He sank to his knees. The broken glass was everywhere. But he didn't care.

His father had just betrayed him. His mother had just disowned him. His best friend had just abandoned him, and was possibly behind the invasion that had happened in his headquarters. His fiancée had just threatened to leave him.

Everyone. Everyone he trusted. Everyone he loved. None of them believed him.

He was completely alone.