Disgraced Heir Returns

3: PRETENSE

Damian stayed on his knees for a long time.

The broken glass surrounded him. His mother's voice echoed in his head. You are no longer my son. His father's dismissive words. Jason's cold laughter. Aurora's sharp ultimatum.

Everyone. Everyone had abandoned him.

But the floor was cold. And the cold reminded him he was still alive. Still breathing. Still capable of feeling something other than despair.

He pushed himself up. His knees were bleeding. Tiny shards of glass had cut through his trousers. He didn't care.

He walked to the bathroom. Cleaned himself up. Stared at his reflection in the mirror.

The man looking back was a stranger. Hollow eyes. Sunken cheeks. A ghost wearing Damian Cross's face.

You're not done yet.

The thought came from nowhere. But it settled in his chest like a stone.

You're not done yet.

He splashed water on his face. Took a deep breath. Walked back to his office.

His computer was still on. The screens glowed in the dim light. He sat down. His fingers found the keyboard.

Let's find out who did this.

—----

The next few days blurred together.

Damian threw everything into clearing his name. He worked around the clock. Sleep was a luxury he couldn't afford. Food was an afterthought.

Greg was there through it all. The young assistant had become his shadow. His lifeline.

"Sir, we're making progress," Greg said one morning. They were in Damian's home office. Greg had brought coffee and pastries. He had also brought a stack of legal documents. "The lawyers are confident. They think we can challenge the evidence. It's going to take time, but—"

"I don't have time," Damian said. He was staring at his screen. Lines of code. Financial records. Digital footprints. "The wedding is in a few days. I need answers before then."

Greg hesitated. Then he put a hand on Damian's shoulder.

"Sir, I saw the news. About your parents. I just... I wanted to say I'm sorry. You don't deserve that."

Damian didn't look up. "They never believed in me. Not really. This is just confirmation."

"Once you clear your name, they'll regret it. Everyone will. They'll see they were wrong about you."

Damian finally looked at his assistant. The young man's eyes were earnest. Sincere.

"Thank you, Greg," Damian said quietly. "For staying."

Greg nodded. "I'm not going anywhere, sir. I owe you everything."

_____________

Damian called Aurora every day.

He tried to keep his voice steady. Tried to sound confident. Like he had everything under control.

"Everything is going to be fine," he said into the phone. "I'm working with the lawyers. We're going to clear my name. Just give me a few more days."

Aurora's voice was always sharp. Always impatient. "The wedding is in four days, Damian. Four days. And the media is still calling you a criminal. My parents are furious. My friends are asking me questions I can't answer."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm doing everything I can."

"Are you?" Her voice was cold. Distant. "Because it doesn't seem like it."

Damian gripped the phone tighter. "Aurora, can I come see you? I need to come see you. We need to talk. Face to face."

She was silent for a moment. Then: "That's not a good idea."

"Why not?"

"My family is angry. If you show up here, there will be drama. My father is furious. He said if he sees you near the house he’ll call the police. It's better if you stay away until the wedding."

Damian's chest tightened. "Aurora, I'm your fiancé. I should be there. I should—"

"I said no, Damian. Figure out your problems and then come see me. Not before."

He closed his eyes. Took a breath. “Aurora, please. I just need to know you still believe in me.”

“I do believe in you,” she said. But her voice was flat. Cold. “Just fix this before the wedding, That’s all I’m asking.”

“Will you still marry me?” he asked. His voice cracked. “If I don’t figure this out in time… will you still marry me?”

Another long pause. 

“Let’s just focus on fixing things,” she said. “We’ll deal with the rest later.”

She hung up before Damien could say any other thing.

Damien stared at his phone, the black screen staring back at him, as he thought of the wedding, It was supposed to be grand. The event of the year. Thousands of guests. Flowers from around the world. A five-tier cake. A live orchestra.

But now…

Hesitating, he called Aurora again.

“Aurora, I’ve been thinking. What if we made the wedding a private ceremony? Just family and close friends. Once I clear my name, we can have a big celebration. But for now–”

“No.”

Her voice was sharp. Her tone final.

“Aurora,please just consider–”

“I said no, Damian. I’ve been planning this wedding for months. It’s going to be exactly what I wanted. Grand. Extravagant. The event of the year.”

“But the media–”

“I don’t care about the media,” she snapped. “I care about my wedding. And my wedding is going to be perfect. Do you understand?”

Damian was silent for a moment. Then: “Yes. I understand.”

“Good. Now focus on clearing your name. We have a wedding to prepare for.”

The line went dead.

Damian stared at his phone. Then he put it down.

____

He continued with the wedding preparations anyway.

He had a secret account. Money he had stashed away for emergencies. It wasn't much compared to what he had lost. But it was enough to keep things going.

He sent Aurora's family grand gifts. Jewelry. Luxury watches. A vintage wine collection worth more than most people's cars. He sent flowers to Aurora's mother. A handwritten apology to her father.

The media caught wind of it.

"SHAMELESS FRAUD STILL PLANNING WEDDING"

"DAMIAN CROSS REFUSES TO CANCEL EXTRAVAGANT CEREMONY"

"TECH BILLIONAIRE'S FIANCÉE PLAYED FOR A FOOL?"

Damian read every article. Every headline. Every comment.

"Rich people are always shamelessly evil."

"I can't believe he's still going through with this."

"He must be blackmailing her. There's no way she wants to marry that criminal."

"Look at him. Buying gifts with stolen money. Disgusting."

He scrolled through hundreds of comments. Most were hateful. Most called him a fraud. A liar. A thief.

But there were others. A few voices. A handful of people who saw something different.

"Say what you want about him, but he doesn't care about the negative comments."

"I wish I could be as unbothered as him."

"Maybe he's innocent. Has anyone thought about that?"

Damian read those comments twice. Three times. He printed them out and pinned them to his wall.

Small victories, he thought. I'll take them.

---

He called the investors. One by one.

Some agreed to speak for him. They had known him for years. They had seen his work. His dedication. They believed in his innocence.

Others were not so kind.

"Don't call me again, Cross. I'm not going to ruin my reputation for you. This is your mess. Clean it up."

"I can't be associated with you. I'm sorry. But I have to think about my own family. My own business."

"I always knew you were too good to be true. I should have listened to my instincts."

Damian thanked each one. Even the ones who cursed him. Even the ones who hung up on him.

He kept a list. Names. Dates. The ones who stayed. The ones who ran.

Promising himself to remember them. Every single one.

---

Days turned into nights. Nights turned into days.

The wedding was tomorrow.

Damian hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. His eyes were bloodshot. His hands were trembling. But he had made progress. Not enough. But some.

He had found something. A digital trail. A signature. A clue.

Someone made a mistake. A tiny one. But it's there.

He was about to dig deeper when his phone buzzed.

Aurora.

“Hii, I was just about to call…”

"Damian, I need you to do something," she said. No greeting. No concern. Just commands. "I need you to go suit shopping. You can't wear an old suit to our wedding. You're a public figure. Act like one."

Damian blinked. "Aurora, I've been working nonstop. I—"

"I don't care. You will show up looking perfect. Do you understand me? The media is going to be everywhere. I need to look like I'm marrying a winner. Not a failure."

Damian clenched his jaw. But he said: "Alright. I'll go."

"Good. And Damian?"

"Yes?"

"Don't be late to the wedding. I don't think I could handle any more embarrassment."

She hung up.

Damian stared at the phone. Then he laughed. It was hollow. Broken. Almost hysterical.

She still didn't believe in him. Still didn't understand that his world was crumbling. Still didn't see the cracks.

But he would fix it. He would fix everything.

After the wedding.

---

He went to the suit shop.

It was an exclusive boutique. The kind of place where celebrities shopped. Damian had been there before. Before the scandal. Before everything fell apart.

The staff recognized him. Their smiles were tight. Professional. Forced.

"Mr. Cross. Welcome. We have your measurements on file. Please, follow me."

Damian followed. He picked out a suit. Dark navy. Classic cut. Expensive.

He tried it on. Stared at himself in the mirror.

This is who I am. This is who I have to be. The public figure. The confident groom. The man who has everything under control.

He didn't feel like that man. He felt like a fraud. Like an imposter. Like he was wearing someone else's skin.

But he smiled anyway. Nodded at the tailor.

"Perfect. I'll take it."

---

He drove home. The city was dark. The streets were empty.

His phone buzzed. A message from Greg.

"Sir, I think I found something. Someone accessed your servers three weeks ago. Remote access. They had your login credentials. I'm still digging, but I think we're close."

Damian read the message twice. His heart started pounding.

We're close.

He replied quickly.

"Keep digging. I'll be at my office in an hour."

He pressed the gas. The city blurred past him.

For the first time in days, Damian Cross felt a tiny flicker of hope in his chest.