Ch 22

“Let me handle this, Clara,” Damon whispered, his voice low and rough—calm, yet brimming with unshakable authority.

He cupped her face gently in both hands, brushing away the single tear that rolled down her cheek. Just beyond the soundproof doors of the main hall, the roar of hundreds of camera shutters and the clamor of reporters from every major national media outlet echoed loudly. The manipulated video footage that had been released, carefully crafted to paint Clara as a villain, had already sparked wild, dangerous speculation across the country.

Clara gripped his wrists, her eyes locked deep into his dark gaze. “Damon, you haven’t fully healed yet. If you go out there and your emotions get the better of you—”

“I will never let anyone turn you into prey, Clara,” Damon cut in softly, pressing a warm, reassuring kiss to her forehead. “For fifteen years, I hid my love for you deep in the shadows. But today… today I will let the whole world know exactly what you mean to me.”

He straightened his black suit jacket, then laced his fingers tightly through hers as Mark swung the heavy double doors wide open.

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

Hundreds of camera flashes burst into the air the moment they stepped toward the main podium. The vast hall, packed with rows of microphones and journalists, erupted instantly into a chaotic wave of overlapping questions.

“Miss Clara! Is that footage of you abusing your ex-husband real?!”

“Mr. Vance! Is it true you used death threats to force Clara away from Julian?!”

“Is Zephyr Group being run by corporate criminals?!”

Damon did not sit down immediately. He stood tall and unyielding before the podium, sweeping the entire room with a gaze cold and sharp as steel. The sheer weight of his intimidating presence silenced the roaring crowd in mere seconds. A heavy, breathless hush fell over the hall.

He pulled one microphone closer, his hand still clasped firmly around Clara’s fingers, never letting go.

“The video that was illegally leaked and distributed is nothing but edited propaganda, twisted and manufactured by the remaining loyalists of the Kaelen Syndicate,” Damon’s voice rang out—deep, clear, and commanding every corner of the room. “But I am not here to negotiate with rumors.”

He turned briefly toward Clara, looking at her with such open, genuine warmth—a tenderness captured live by hundreds of rolling cameras.

“The man shown in that video—Julian Vance—was never a victim,” Damon continued, his tone hardening with heavy emphasis. “He is a man who sold his own wife to the Sterling family just to pay off gambling debts and fund his own selfish pleasures. And as for the threats I made all those years ago… I admit them freely.”

A murmur of shock rippled through the press room. Clara gasped softly, but Damon’s grip on her hand tightened, grounding her with absolute safety.

“I threatened that man,” Damon declared without the slightest trace of hesitation. “Because I watched the woman I love more than life itself be tormented, controlled, and abused by a monster. I took every sin and burden upon my own shoulders. I sacrificed my reputation, let myself become the villain the whole world hated… all for one single reason: to make sure Clara survived, and escaped the dynasty that wanted to destroy her.”

Damon lifted Clara’s left hand high into the air, letting every camera catch the brilliant sparkle of the legendary emerald ring resting on her finger—her mother’s heirloom, now hers to keep.

“The woman standing beside me is not just the rightful majority shareholder of Zephyr Group,” Damon spoke with the grace and power of a true protector. “She is Clara Vance… my lawfully wedded wife. She is the woman I have honored and cherished since we were young, and the true Queen of this entire empire. Anyone who dares to drag her name through the mud with lies and slander will face the full force of every legal and financial power I possess.”

This open, fierce devotion—bold yet tender—turned the entire mood of the room in an instant. Damon’s honesty, his exposure of Julian’s true nature, and his fearless declaration of love had melted every trace of doubt. Soft murmurs and quiet applause began to rise from the back rows, growing into a wave of approval that drowned out every cruel accusation from before.

Clara looked up at Damon, her eyes glistening with tears, her heart overflowing with overwhelming emotion. The man who had once locked her away in darkness to keep her safe was now standing proudly, holding her close, shining bright under the gaze of the whole world.

Two hours later, after the press conference had successfully crushed the scandal and turned public opinion entirely in their favor, their luxury SUV pulled into the secure underground parking garage of their private penthouse residence.

Damon helped Clara step out of the vehicle, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist. “Are you tired, my queen?”

Clara smiled softly, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I have never been this happy, Damon. Thank you… for defending my honor.”

But before they could take another step toward the private elevator, a disheveled figure burst out from behind a thick concrete pillar!

“Clara! Clara, please help me!” the man screamed, his voice rough and cracking.

Mark and the two security guards instantly moved into position, raising their weapons toward the intruder. But Clara held Mark’s arm back, freezing as she recognized the gaunt face, messy hair, and shabby clothes of the man now kneeling helplessly on the cold concrete floor.

It was Julian.

He looked utterly wretched. There was nothing left of the handsome, wealthy young businessman he had once been. His face was covered in fresh bruises, his cheap suit torn and filthy—a stark picture of total ruin, cast aside and abandoned the moment he had outlived his usefulness to the remnants of the Sterling network.

“Clara…” Julian broke into sobs, crawling forward on hands and knees, trembling violently. “Forgive me… I’m being hunted by the Kaelen Syndicate’s debt collectors… they’re going to kill me tonight if I don’t pay ten billion… please help me, Clara… I was your husband…”

Clara stood still, looking at him with a tangled mix of pity and deep, profound disappointment.

But before she could speak a single word, a terrifying, freezing cold aura swept through the entire parking garage.

Damon stepped forward one long, deliberate stride, gently but firmly pulling Clara behind his back. His dark eyes narrowed into sharp slits, burning with fierce jealousy and the possessive darkness that flared whenever anyone dared to beg for her sympathy or attention.

He clenched his fists tight at his sides, his voice dropping low—icy, heavy, and deadly.

“You have incredible nerve to dare show your filthy face anywhere near my wife, Julian.”