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CHAPTER 2: The offer he cant refuse

Author: Zurie
last update publish date: 2026-05-06 09:31:14

Damian's penthouse had floor-to-ceiling windows and a bed the size of a small country, but we didn't sleep together. That was the deal. He got a ruthless COO. I got his resources, his name, and his protection. Friendship, with benefits of destruction.

"You were magnificent tonight," Damian said, pouring two fingers of scotch. "Thorne looked like someone ran over his dog."

"I want him to look worse," I said, kicking off my heels. "I have intel. His offshore accounts are shaky because of the new tariffs. If we hit his supply chain at the port next Tuesday, he'll bleed ten million a day."

Damian raised his glass. "That's my bloodthirsty librarian."

I didn't laugh. Revenge wasn't funny. It was a slow, meticulous art.

My phone buzzed. An unknown number.

Unknown: I know about your deal with Kael. Meet me tomorrow. The Tea Garden, 2 PM. Come alone, or I go to the press.

I showed Damian. His jaw tightened.

"That's Julian's private number," he said. "He's already trying to blackmail you. The man has no shame."

"No," I agreed, heart pounding. "But he has fear. And fear makes people sloppy."

The next day, I wore a cream dress—soft, innocent, weaponized. The Tea Garden was a quiet place, full of old ladies and silver spoons. Julian sat in the corner booth, looking like a fallen king. Dark circles under his eyes. His tie loosened.

He stood when I approached. "You came."

"I came to hear you beg."

He winced. "Elara, please. Sit."

I sat. He didn't.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"You." His voice cracked. "I want you back. I'll divorce the supermodel. I'll give you half of Thorne Industries. Just—stop working with Kael. He's dangerous. He's using you."

I laughed. It was dry and hollow. "Using me? Julian, you locked me in a penthouse for three years and then threw me out like trash because I wasn't useful. Damian gave me a purpose. You don't get to play the jealous ex-husband now."

He slammed his palm on the table. The old ladies gasped.

"I loved you!" he said, too loud.

"No." I stood up. "You loved the idea of a wife who wouldn't talk back. Well, I'm talking now. Back off, Julian. Or I will take everything."

I turned to leave. His next words stopped me cold.

"Your mother's medical bills," he said quietly.

My blood froze.

"What?"

"I know about the debt. The experimental treatment in Switzerland. Two million dollars. Due in six weeks." He pulled an envelope from his jacket. "I paid it. In full. As a… peace offering."

I stared at the envelope. My hands shook. My mother was the only family I had left. She didn't even know I'd been divorced—I'd lied, told her Julian and I were still happy.

"Why?" I whispered.

Julian stepped closer. "Because I know the real reason you're doing this. It's not revenge. It's fear. You're afraid no one will ever love you. But I do, Elara. I always have."

He was wrong. He didn't love me. He loved owning me.

But the receipt for my mother's treatment was real.

And now, I was in check.

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