Chapter 4: Ashes and Ambition

Damian pov:

The boardroom was a war zone that day, eight years ago, when the world as I knew it burned to the ground.

I was twenty-four, barely out of business school, standing in the back of the Voss Enterprises conference room, our old headquarters, the one with the chipped mahogany table and the view of a city that still felt like it belonged to us.

My father, Victor Voss, sat at the head, his face pale, his hands gripping a pen like it could anchor him. Across from him, Richard Blake, all smug smiles and tailored arrogance, laid out the deal that would ruin us.

“It’s a partnership, Victor,” Blake had said, his voice smooth as oil. “If our companies merge, we dominate the tech market. You can’t lose.”

But we did lose. The merger was a lie, a house of cards built on falsified data and backroom deals.

Blake Enterprises came out unscathed, their stock soaring, while Voss Enterprises crumbled under accusations of fraud.

The SEC swarmed, the press crucified us, and my father, my strong, unbreakable father, broke.

I can still see him that night, sitting in his study, staring at a bottle of scotch, his eyes empty.

“They took everything, Damien,” he’d whispered. “Everything I built for you and your mother.”

I was too young, too green, to stop it then. I stood there, useless, as my mother cried in the next room, as my sisters begged me to fix it, as our name became a punchline.

The Blakes betrayed us, and I swore I’d make them pay. I’d make her pay, Richard Blake’s daughter, Ariana, the heiress who got to keep her gilded life while mine turned to ash.

The memory fades, and I’m back in my office, forty-seven floors above a city I’ve clawed my way back to own.

The glass walls reflect the morning light, sharp and unforgiving, just like me. Voss Enterprises, my Voss Enterprises, built from the rubble of that betrayal, is a fortress now, a tech empire I forged with sleepless nights, ruthless deals, and a heart hardened to everything but revenge.

But today, my focus is slipping, and it’s because of her.

Ariana Blake.

She’s sitting outside my office, at the desk I put her at, her dark hair pulled back, her fingers flying over the keyboard like she’s trying to prove something.

I shouldn’t notice the way her blouse clings to her shoulders, the way her lips purse when she’s concentrating, the way her green eyes flash with defiance every time I give her an order.

I shouldn’t notice her. She’s a Blake, the daughter of the man who destroyed my family, and yet I can’t stop watching.

It’s infuriating, this pull, this fascination that coils in my chest like a snake. I want to hate her, God, I do hate her, but there’s something about her fire, her refusal to break, that’s getting under my skin.

I leaned back in my chair, my fingers drumming on the desk, trying to drown out the memories.

My mother’s voice, sharp and accusing, echoes from last night’s dinner.

“Why her, Damien? Why bring that girl into our lives? She’s a Blake. She’ll stab you in the back, just like her father did.”

My sisters, Elise and Clara, nodded, their eyes full of the same pain that’s haunted us since the scandal. Even my father, frail now, his voice a shadow of what it was, looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“You built this company from nothing,” he’d said. “Don’t let their poison in.”

I didn’t have an answer for them. I still don’t. Why did I offer her the deal? Why not just crush Blake Enterprises and be done with it? I told myself it’s a strategy, a way to keep her close, to watch her squirm, to prove she’s as weak as her father was.

But that’s a lie, and I’m not in the habit of lying to myself. There’s something about her, something that makes my blood run hot, that makes me want to push her, test her, see how far that fire in her eyes can burn before it consumes us both.

My phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s Elise, texting again. Damien, reconsider. She’s in trouble. You don’t need her.

I tossed the phone aside, my jaw tightened.

They don’t understand. This isn’t about need. It’s about control. It’s about taking back what the Blakes stole from us. And if Ariana Blake is the key to that, then I’ll use her, no matter how much her presence unsettles me.

“Mr. Voss?” The intercom crackles, and it’s her voice, Ariana’s, steady but laced with that defiance I’m starting to recognize.

“You’re needed in the boardroom. The investors are waiting.”

I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. The boardroom. Another battlefield, another chance to prove I’m not the boy who watched his family fall apart.

I stood, buttoning my suit jacket, and caught my reflection in the glass. I looked like the man I’ve become, cold, calculated, untouchable.

But inside, there’s still that twenty-four-year-old, burning with rage, with loss, with the weight of a name I had to rebuild from nothing.

I stepped out of my office, and there she was, standing by her desk, her eyes meeting mine.

For a second, I’m caught, her gaze is sharp, and unyielding, and I notice things I shouldn’t: the faint flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers curl around a pen like she’s holding herself together.

She’s beautiful, damn it, and I hate her for it.

I hate her for being Richard Blake’s daughter, for carrying his name, for making me feel anything at all.

“Let’s go,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. She nods, grabs her tablet, and falls into step beside me.

Her scent, something soft, like jasmine, hits me, and I clench my fists to keep from reacting.

She’s my enemy, my weapon, my obsession, and I don’t know how to reconcile those things.

The boardroom is buzzing when we enter, a dozen investors in suits, their eyes on me like hawks.

Ariana takes her place at the side, tablet ready, and I feel her presence like a current, electric and distracting.

I forced myself to focus, launching into the presentation, revenue projections, new AI developments, and the future of Voss Enterprises.

But my mind keeps drifting to her, to the way she’s watching me, her expression unreadable.

Is she impressed? Scared? Planning to sabotage me? The thought makes my chest tighten, and I hate that I care.

“Damien,” one of the investors, a gray-haired man named Harold, interrupts. “What’s this about Blake Enterprises? Rumors are you’re keeping it alive. Why?”

The room goes quiet, and I feel Ariana tense, even from across the room. My jaw clenched, and I leaned forward, my voice steady.

“It’s strategic,” I said, the lie smooth on my tongue. “Blake Enterprises has assets we can leverage. It’s not about sentiment, it’s about profit.”

Harold nods, but his eyes narrow, and I know he’s not convinced.

Neither am I. I glanced at Ariana, and she was staring at her tablet, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Does she know I’m lying? Does she know I’m keeping her company on life support because I can’t bring myself to end it, not yet, not when she’s standing there, fighting for it with everything she has?

The meeting drags on, but my mind is elsewhere, on her, on the past, on the pain that’s fueled every step of my climb.

Building Voss Enterprises from scratch wasn’t just an ambition; it was survival. After the scandal, we lost everything, our home, our savings, our name. My mother worked double shifts at a diner, her hands raw from washing dishes.

My sisters dropped out of college, their dreams buried under debt. And my father… he never recovered. The stroke that made him half dead, but the Blakes killed him first.

I was the one who picked up the pieces. Late nights coding in a rented basement, pitching to investors who laughed at my name, scraping together every cent to rebuild what my father lost.

I did it for him, for my mother, for my sisters. But I also did it for me, to prove I could rise above the Blakes, above their betrayal.

And now, Ariana’s here, in my world, and I don’t know if I want to destroy her or pull her closer.

The meeting ended, and the investors filed

out, murmuring about quarterly reports.

Ariana lingers, her eyes on me, and I feel that pull again, that dangerous spark.

“Good job,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “They ate it up.”

I raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. “Was that a compliment, Ms. Blake?”

She shrugs, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t get used to it.”

And there it is, that fire, that defiance, that thing that makes me want to hate her and know her all at once.

I stepped closer, too close, and her breath hitches, just enough to tell me she feels it too.

“Careful,” I said, my voice low. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Her eyes don’t waver. “So are you.”

For a moment, we’re locked there, the air thick with something I can’t name. Our eyes were locked intensely.

Then she turns, walking back to her desk, and I’m left standing in the boardroom, my heart pounding, my hatred and fascination at war.

Ariana Blake is my enemy, my weakness, my obsession. And I have no idea what to do with her.

God help me.