CHAPTER 19

Under Watch

Damian’s POV

Someone knocked on my door right after dawn. Not too loud. Not rushed. But deliberate. It was one of the maid checking if I was awake.

I was awake already. I hadn't asleep.

After last night, Eliot hadn't come back to the penthouse. I didn't blame him. Not after the kiss in the car. The way we held on to each other like the world was falling apart and we were the only thing left standing.

Not after I saw the red light blink in the garage ceiling and took a picture of it all.

After a few seconds, my phone buzzed.

A text message from Maxwell's assistant: "Your dad wants to see you in his office. Right now.”

No other details.

Just a cold reminder that time was running out—and Maxwell doesn't asked twice.

It was silence as I took a quick shower and got dressed.

I wore adark gray suit, a black tie, silver cufflinks. The uniform of composure.

But I felt empty on the inside.

As I pressed cloth flat and adjusted buttons, my body moved without thinking. But my mind was still in the car, listening to Eliot's shaking voice as he said, "I can't keep doing this."

I touched the back of my neck, trying to release the tightness there.

But It didn’t work.

The elevator to Maxwell’s private floor was glass and steel, cold and clinical.

For me, each step I passed was like being judged. Every floor below me held parts of my life, like my fortune, my public image, and my responsibilities. But the top floor was different.

It was his world.

And I was about to be called to account.

As always, Maxwell's office was spotless when I entered.

The estate gardens could be seen through a wall of glass. The room was framed by shelves full of rare books that I had never seen him read. In the middle, a big desk sat like a throne.

He stood behind it, perfectly composed with his hands lightly resting on the smooth edge.

A small black USB drive was sitting next to a glass of water was the only thing that didn't look right.

“Sit,” he said without looking back.

I obeyed.

For thirty seconds, he didn't say anything.

He instead went to the bar cart, poured himself a glass of still water, and took one sip. He then turned to face me like he was about to start an interview.

His face couldn't be read.

But the temperature in the room had dropped.

“Damian,” he said. “How are things with you?”

My jaw tightened.

“Busy as usual” I replied.

“Mm,” he hummed. “You’ve been... distant lately.”

I kept my posture straight. "We've been out in public for charity mixers and the gala dinner. It a whole lot of work.”

“Of course it is?" he asked again as he slowly walked around his desk. "With Lila I guess?"

"Yes."

He gave a weak smile. "I'm not sure about that."

The words were like smoke in the air. But I didn't say anything.

He finally sat down and curled his fingers in front of him.

“I received something interesting yesterday,” he said.

My heart pounded.

*A USB. No return address. No message. "Just... footage."

I didn’t blink. Couldn’t breathe either.

"A video footage from the garage," he said next. "Last night. You and Eliot."

I stood still, my heart beating fast.

He leaned back slightly, watching me the way someone watches an animal before deciding whether to fight or run.

“You were kissing him.”

There it was. Plain. Direct. My long time secret was finally opened.

My throat tightened. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“You can talk,” he said in a soft voice. "Or would you like me to play the video here?"

“No,” I said quickly. “There’s no need.”

“Then tell me what I saw was wrong,” Maxwell said. “Because I want to believe you have an explanation.”

I leaned a little forward and put my arms on my knees. “We were having a conversation. And thing got a little messed up. It was a mistake.”

He raised one eyebrow. “A mistake?”

“Yes,” I said my voice low.

Maxwell stared at me for a very long time. "You've been seeing him before this happened. I didn't think this was just a heat conversation mistake Damian.” He snapped.

I looked into his eyes. "You're right."

He folded his arms. "Is Lila aware of this?"

"Yes," I replied, surprising even myself with how steady I sounded. “She knows everything. Our engagement is...for a show.”

He made a low sound of approval. “So you’ve made her a pawn, too.”

"She agreed to it,” I said sharply.

"That doesn't matter,” Maxwell shot back.

The room went quiet again.

The only sound in the room was the low hum of the estate's security system.

Maxwell then hit the table with the USB.

“Someone sent this to me intentionally because they want something,” he said. “They chose not to expose you publicly. Or send it to the press. Which means they wanted something.”

I gave a slow nod.

“This is leverage,” he continued. “Pressure. And I don’t like being under pressure.”

My voice came out low. "Neither do I."

“Then deal with it,” he said, his voice suddenly sharp. “Before they move again.”

He stood, pacing the room.

“I don’t care who you sleep with. I don’t care what stupid feelings you have. All I care about is the family name, the company, and the future we’ve built.”

He turned around to look at me again.

“You want to be a gay? Fine. But don’t tarnish the family name.”

The words hurt more than they should have. And I hated how used I was to it.

I slowly stood up. "I'll take care of it."

“You better do,” he said. “Because the next message might not come to me. It might go straight to every shareholder, every news outlet, every board member we’ve spent decades building up.”

I nodded.

He stepped behind his desk, dismissing me with the tilt of his head.

My heart was beating fast as I reached for the door.

But then—

“Wait,” he called out.

I went cold.

“I’ve asked Eliot to come and see me this morning,” Maxwell said calmly. “He should be arriving any minute.”

My breath caught.

"What?" I asked in disbelief.

"I want to hear his side of the story. Clarify the relationship and understand what leverage, if he has any.”

"Dad he's not—"

He held up a hand.

"Don't speak for him. Not until I know what he has to say."

I stared at him.

He was already sitting down again and going through papers as if we were done talking.

But we wasn’t.

Because the next chapter was about to begin—

And Eliot was walking right straight into it.