The man they called insane

I'm not crazy

He had fought vigorously from the penthouse up until they brought him here. He'd lost his cufflinks in the process. His shirt was torn at the collar.

Even inside Blackthorne Psychiatric Institute, he still struggled with the orderlies, but their grip was firm.

"Serena!" His voice bounced off the walls. "Serena, look at me!"

She stood at the intake desk wearing the cream-colored Valentino suit Damien had bought her last season. She didn't look up. Didn't make any sign that she heard him. She just kept signing whatever they asked her to sign.

Dr. Heller stood beside her. Thin man in a white coat. He'd already made up his mind about Damien.

One of the intake nurses asked softly, "Mrs. Wicker, are you sure you want the full restrictive protocol? That means no visitation at all."

Serena capped her pen and put on the most pitiful face she could muster. If Damien didn't know the truth, he'd have bought it.

"Do you think I want this? He's my husband. It hurts to see him this way. But he's a danger to himself and to others." She turned to face him. Her eyes held absolutely nothing. No guilt. No anger. Just empty. "I want him to be safe. I want to keep him away from anything that might upset him."

Damien lunged forward.

The orderlies yanked him back so hard his shoulder popped. Pain shot through the joint. But he kept his eyes on her.

"Stop this, Serena. You know I'm not crazy. You're just doing this to get rid of me and cover your tracks. You're a criminal. You and Adrian planned this to shut me up. I have proof of everything you've done."

For a split second, something crossed her face. Not doubt. It looked almost like a smile.

She walked over to him and stopped just close enough for him to hear her.

"Proof," she repeated quietly, reaching out to fix his torn collar. Her fingers brushed his neck the same way they had a thousand times before. "Oh, Damien. You really don't get it, do you? Proof is whatever I say it is. The board thinks you're unstable. The courts think you're unstable. By morning, the banks will think so too."

She leaned in, her lips almost touching his ear.

"This is all your fault. If you hadn't come home early, we could have done this the clean way. A car accident. A tragic fall. Something with dignity." She smoothed his collar. "Instead, you get to rot in here, screaming about conspiracies. How embarrassing for you."

Damien tried to headbutt her. The orderly on his right drove his knee into his thigh. His leg gave out. They dragged him backward.

As they pulled him toward the locked wing, he saw Adrian walk out of an office. The gloating smile on his face was unmistakable.

He'd trusted Adrian with everything. The company's codes. His family. His wife.

And now Adrian was smiling while orderlies dragged him to a cage.

"Adrian!" Damien shouted. "I built that company! I built everything you're stealing!"

Adrian tilted his head. "Rest well, Damien. We'll take care of Wicker Dynamics. We'll take care of everything."

They shoved him through a steel door. Room 214. The restraints were already laid out on the bed.

Even with one arm useless, Damien fought. But it was no use. Dr. Heller stepped forward, a syringe in his hand. The needle pressed into Damien's neck. Something cold rushed through his blood—like ice water.

"No," he mumbled. "No… you can't… I'll kill you… I'll kill all of you…"

Serena's voice floated from the doorway, light and almost musical. "He's having another episode. Document that, Doctor. For the court records."

The room tilted. The lights above turned into blurry circles. He clung to the last image of her face. The smile on Adrian's face. He would need to remember them when he got out.

The faces of the people who had done this to him.

Then the drugs pulled him under, and he carried them down into the dark.