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More Damage from the Goat
Last Updated:
2025-03-23 05:33:48
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Daniel waited exactly twenty-six hours to destroy me.I was in the subway when the first message arrived, my phone buzzing against my hip as the train lurched between stations. Service was spotty underground, so it wasn't until we pulled into Union Square that the avalanche of notifications hit—seventeen text messages, twenty-three emails, and thirty-eight social media alerts.The first text was from Troy: DO NOT COME TO THE STUDIO. Call me NOW.The second was from Olivia: Have you seen Design Weekly? Daniel leaked the photos.My stomach dropped as I opened the link Olivia had sent. There it was, splashed across the digital front page of the industry's most influential p
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Outside, the bright spring day felt like an insult. I walked aimlessly for several blocks, my mind racing through options that dwindled with each step. Without Vega Davidson's manufacturing capabilities, I was back to creating pieces by hand in my apartment. Without their distribution channels, I was limited to online sales. Without their industry connection, I was just another independent designer making unsubstantiated claims about my talent.By the time I reached Washington Square Park, my phone had died from the constant notifications. I sat on a bench, watching students sprawled on the grass enjoying the sunshine, their lives uncomplicated by vengeful ex-husbands or industry blacklisting."Quite a morning you've had."I looked up to find Troy standing beside my bench, two coffee cups in hand. He offered one to me."How did you find me?""I didn't." He sat beside me. "I got fired too. Was walking to drown my sorrows in caffeine and spotted you looking pathetic.""They fired you?"
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Two hours later, I was dressed in Troy's idea of power attire—black cigarette pants, a structured blazer in deep emerald that somehow fit perfectly, and a silver collar necklace of my own design. My hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, makeup minimal but precise."Perfect," Troy declared, circling me critically. "Professional enough for a business dinner, fabulous enough to remind them who they're dealing with.""Which is?""A designer whose talent threatens an entire dynasty." He adjusted the collar minutely. "Remember that when you're sitting across from Grandfather Russo. You're not there because you need him—you're there because he recognizes what you're worth."I wasn't sure I believed that, but his confidence was contagious. By the time the car arrived—a sleek black sedan with tinted windows—I felt armored against whatever awaited me at the mansion.The drive was shorter than I remembered, or maybe time simply compressed with anxiety. We passed through the ornate gates that
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"Because now you've proven what you can do independently." Grandfather set down his glass. "Your viral success, your partnership at Vega Davidson, your resilience in the face of systematic sabotage—you've demonstrated that your talent wasn't a fluke or a product of Russo resources. It was always you."The validation I'd craved for years, delivered now when I least expected it. I didn't trust it—couldn't trust it—but couldn't deny the hunger it awakened in me either."The board would never accept me after today's articles.""The board follows the controlling interest, which would be yours." He smiled thinly. "Besides, scandals fade. Talent doesn't."A knock at the study door interrupted us. Martha entered with a covered dinner tray, setting it on the table between us with practiced efficiency. The simple meal—pasta carbonara, my favorite—suggested Grandfather had planned this carefully, choosing comfort over impression."Consider this," Grandfather continued as Martha left. "With contr
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"Hold still," Troy muttered around the pins in his mouth, making final adjustments to the dress he'd insisted on creating for my first public appearance since the scandal broke. "If you fidget, I'll stab you, and blood ruins silver lamé."The dress was his masterpiece—asymmetrical silver with structural elements that echoed my jewelry designs. One shoulder bare, the other draped in a metallic sleeve that caught the light when I moved. The silhouette was deceptively simple, but the details were pure Troy: hand-stitched metal beading along the neckline that mirrored my signature glass-and-metal fusion technique."It's already perfect," I said, watching him fuss with the hem."Perfection is subjective. Revenge is specific." He stood, circling me critically. "When you walk into that gala on Giuseppe Russo's arm, every person who's whispered about you these past two weeks needs to choke on their champagne."It had been sixteen days since Grandfather's offer and my acceptance. Sixteen days
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"Giuseppe!" A tall woman in her sixties approached, air-kissing Grandfather before turning her assessing gaze on me. "And the famous Maya Russo. Or is it Maya Vega these days? I can never keep up with the rebranding.""Maya is fine, Mrs. Harrington," I replied, recognizing the owner of one of America's largest luxury retail chains."Margaret, Maya will be making an exciting announcement later this evening," Grandfather said. "One I think will interest Harrington's buyers considerably."Mrs. Harrington's perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose. "Intriguing. I look forward to it." She lowered her voice. "And may I say, my dear, that those photos did you no justice. You're far more striking in person."Before I could respond, Grandfather was steering me toward another group of ind
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The Guild president took the stage, tapping her microphone for attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, before we move to dessert and our awards presentation, we have a special announcement." She smiled, a practiced expression that revealed nothing. "It's my honor to welcome to the stage Giuseppe Russo, founder of Russo Designs, for what I'm told is a historic moment in the company's evolution."A ripple of interest moved through the room. Unscheduled announcements at the Guild Gala were rare—the program was typically planned to the minute. I caught snippets of whispered speculation from nearby tables."—retiring perhaps?" "—heard rumors of acquisition—" "—why is she here with him instead of Daniel?"Grandfather rose with deliberate slowness, the room quieting as he made his way to the podium. The spotlights followed him, leaving the rest of the room in dramatic shadow. Even in his eighties, he commanded attention—his posture straight, his movements purposeful. He adjusted the microphone, su
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Fiona stood swaying in the center of a cleared space, her designer dress rumpled, her makeup smeared. She was gesturing wildly as she spoke, voice too loud, words slurred."—just sits there, accepting awards for designs she stole! Ask anyone who really knows her work!" She spotted me and pointed dramatically. "There she is! The fraud herself!"Silence fell as every head turned toward me. I froze in the doorway, unprepared for Fiona's sudden appearance after weeks of her complete absence from my life."Maya," she called, lurching forward. "Tell them! Tell them how we worked on those designs together! Tell them how you took all the credit!"Grandfather appeared at my side. "Security is on the way," he murmured. "Say nothing."But Fiona was advancing through the crowd, her intoxication evident in her unsteady gait. "You're all being fooled! She's not a genius—she's an opportunist! First Daniel, then Alex Thorne, now Giuseppe. She sleeps her way into every opportunity!"A few uncomfortabl
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I heard the rustle of fabric as he shoved his jeans and boxers down. Then his fingers were gone, and I felt the head of his cock pressed against me. He paused there, so close to where I needed him."Say it again," he demanded."Fuck me," I repeated, beyond caring how desperate I sounded.“Not convincing enough,” he said, an I could only imagine the stupid smirk he would have on his face.“Pleassee”He pushed in slowly—too slowly—filling me inch by inch until he was all the way inside. We both went still, adjusting to the feeling. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave marks, his breathing ragged above me.Then he started to move, building a rhythm that had me clutching at the sheets, face pressed into the mattress to muffle the sounds I couldn't hold back. Each thrust hit perfectly, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. I pushed back against him, matching his pace, taking him deeper."Harder," I demanded, voice breaking.His grip tightened as he complied, driving into me with
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"What is it then, Maya? What exactly do you want from me?" He pushed off from the counter, taking a step toward me. "Because I've been trying to figure it out since the moment we met, and I'm still fucking clueless.""I just want you to treat me like an equal!" I shot back. "Not some fragile thing you need to protect!""When have I ever treated you as anything less?""You make decisions about my life without consulting me!""What decisions?" He threw up his hands. "Name one actual decision I've made for you.""You—" I faltered, searching for concrete examples. "You decided I couldn't handle knowing why you were going to Milan.""I decided to handle a situation quietly before dumping more problems on you." He took another step closer. "You're fighting a war on multiple fronts. Your parents. The foundation. The board. I thought I could deal with one thing without adding to your plate.""That's not your call to make!""Fine!" His voice was sharp now. "You want to know? Daniel's been havi
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"Okay."I hung up before my voice could betray me. For a second I just stood there, phone in hand, heart doing this stupid fluttery thing I hated. Pathetic. Not even twenty-four hours after walking out, one call and I'm jumping.Except I wasn't jumping. I was going over there to tell him exactly what I thought. That's all.I cranked the shower too hot and stepped in anyway, feeling my skin flush red. The bathroom mirror caught my reflection as I toweled off. Christ, I looked wrecked, and I needed sleep.But at least, I need to know what he had to say.I yanked on jeans and grabbed the first sweater my hand could find. My wet hair dripped cold trails down my neck as I half-heartedly (At least that was what I told myself) dragged a brush through it, catching on knots I didn't have patience to work out.My phone lit up with a text from Olivia about Henderson and a 9AM meeting. I glanced at it, exhaled sharply, and tossed the phone in my bag. The car keys dug into my palm as I headed for
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"What leverage could they possibly have on Chen?" I asked, focusing on the immediate problem to avoid the bottomless pit of other thoughts waiting to swallow me. "She's been with Russo Designs for twenty years. She despises my father.""Well…they wouldn't approach her without ammunition," Grandfather said. "Your parents are opportunistic, not stupid."I stopped at the window, pushing the curtain aside to peer at the garden below. The rosebushes needed pruning. Grandfather was letting things slip. Another small sign of his decline he thought I hadn't noticed."Something about the foundation," I said finally. "That's what they've been focusing on.""The Henderson grant application," Olivia suggested, looking up from her laptop. "Your father's golfing buddy chairs th
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"What leverage could they possibly have on Chen?" I asked, focusing on the immediate problem to avoid the bottomless pit of other thoughts waiting to swallow me. "She's been with Russo Designs for twenty years. She despises my father.""Well…they wouldn't approach her without ammunition," Grandfather said. "Your parents are opportunistic, not stupid."I stopped at the window, pushing the curtain aside to peer at the garden below. The rosebushes needed pruning. Grandfather was letting things slip. Another small sign of his decline he thought I hadn't noticed."Something about the foundation," I said finally. "That's what they've been focusing on.""The Henderson grant application," Olivia suggested, looking up from her laptop. "Your father's golfing buddy chairs th
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MayaI'd forgotten how much I hated Grandfather's study. The room felt like it was actively trying to swallow me—dark wood paneling soaking up what little sunlight filtered through heavy curtains, leather chairs too deep for my frame, bookshelves stuffed with volumes nobody had opened in decades. The air still had that perpetual smell of cigars even though I had never seen grandfather smoke."They've approached Whitcomb," Grandfather said, tossing a handwritten note across his massive desk. Not photographs. Not dramatic surveillance. Just his spidery handwriting on Russo Designs stationery showing the result of one phone call to a secretary who'd worked for him for thirty years and still treated him like God despite his "retirement."I picked it up, trying to focus on the words while my brain kept circling back to the same useless
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AlexThe elevator doors closed, cutting off the sound of Maya's apartment door slamming behind me. I jabbed the lobby button, watching the numbers descend while her words echoed: "You're obsessed. Mr. I-Still-Carry-The-Bracelet."She knew exactly where to strike. The bracelet wasn't just some keepsake. It was the one tangible connection to a past we both shared. The proof that we'd been connected long before any of this. And now she'd just turned it into something shameful, like the fact that it mattered to me was a deficiency.The doorman nodded as I passed through the lobby. I pushed past him without acknowledgment, the cold night air hitting my face as I started walking. No destination. I just wanted to go away.One minute we were talking about her parents, and the next she was treating me like I was trying to control her entire life. Hated it she compared me to Daniel. That comparison stung more than the bracelet comment. All that, for just trying to help. Was that overstepping? W
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I watched as Robert questioned Maya's professional judgment, his voice carrying that familiar patronizing tone. And then—"You'd really destroy your own daughter's work?" Thorne interjected, addressing her parents directly. "To protect a lie?"Caroline Kingston's face hardened. "Mr. Thorne, with all due respect, you weren't invited to this dinner.""No, but I was invited by Maya. And since we're speaking of reputations, perhaps we should discuss how it would look if the industry discovered that the Kingstons deliberately left their daughter in the mountains for over a decade for business purposes."The blood rushed to my face. Who the fuck did he think he was? Playing white knight when he knew nothing about her, nothing about what she needed, nothing about what we'd built together.Then Maya's voice cut through clearly: "Alex is family. The family I've chosen."Something hot and tight constricted in my chest. I stared at the screen, at her hand covering his on the table. An intimate g
Divorced My CEO Husband, He Came Begging Blind Possession
DanielI studied our wedding photo as I waited. It was the only personal item they'd allowed me to keep after the "incident" with Dr. Levinson. The frame had a small scratch across the glass now—probably deliberate, another of their petty humiliations. Like the facility uniform that hung loose on my frame, the scheduled bed checks, the constant surveillance. As if I were some common patient.Maya looked perfect that day. I'd selected her dress myself—ivory silk that caught the light exactly right. The photographer had needed minimal direction; Maya had already learned to present herself properly by then. The work I'd put into refining her had paid off. Sometimes I wondered if she remembered that—how much better she was because of me.The door opened without a knock. Basic courtesy, another casualty of this place."Medication time, Mr. Russo." Kevin stood in the doorway, rumpled uniform and mediocre posture. The man was a walking collection of weaknesses—betting slips visible in his br
