CHAPTER 20

The Interrogation

Eliot’s POV

The knock came right after dawn.

Not too loud. Not rushed. It was just strong enough to break the silence.

I hadn't slept much and that didn't surprise me.

“Mr. Maxwell would like to see you," the quiet voice on the other side of the door said. I sat up in the dark, back against the cold sheets. “In his home.”

No one care about me in this house. I'm used to that anyway.

I took my time getting ready and looked at myself in the mirror as I buttoned my shirt.

The man I saw in the mirror wasn't the same one who walked into that club one months ago.

I didn't know who Damian was back then. All I saw was man leaned against the bar, his eyes dark and his mouth hard to read. It had been exciting between us—no names, no promises, just a night. Still, when I woke up, I could remember the way his fingers stayed like he didn't want to let go, the way his mouth was curved, and the way his laugh was rough.

I had no plans in seeing him again. Especially with ione-night stands.

But fate had other plans

I took a plane back to the country because Vale International's tech office asked me to apply for a consulting job. When I saw Damian's face on the board folder, I almost choked.

Then the biggest shock came after. The moment Lila told me he was the one she was going to marry.

That day, I broke down inside.

It wasn't because he owed me something. But because a part of me hoped that the night at the club was just a mistake.

Still, I stayed. Because he looked at me in a way that no one else had before.

And I had to find out if what I felt was real or not.

And because no matter how much it hurt, I wanted to protect him.

And now I was about to walk into the lion's den.

The person who made Damian. Who can also break him easily.

I have no idea what he wanted to see me for, but deep down I knew it was not something good.

It was easy to see why Maxwell Vale thought the world owed him something when you looked at his office.

Steel and wood. Power wrapped up in silence.

When I walked in, he was sitting behind the desk. Not a greeting. No side talk. Only one command: "Sit."

And I did.

I straighten up, my shoulders squared, my eyes still.

He looked at me like I was already guilty of crime I don't know of.

“You’ve known my son for a long time?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said calmly.

But that was a lie. He and I met in a club, bodies pressed against each other and secrets whispered against our skin.

"For how long?"

"Since university," I replied.

He raised a brow. It was clear to him that something wasn't quite right, but he didn't say anything about it.

"And now?" he asked in a calm voice.

My throat got tight.

I told him the truth: "I care about him."

He hit his desk with the USB drive hard, like a gavel. "Someone sent this to me."

I didn't answer.

"It shows Damian and you. Last night. In the garage kissing. Care to explain?”

He said like an accusations. As if kissing his son was a crime.

“I didn’t send it,” I said.

"I never said you did," he said sharply.

"But the way you sound says otherwise,” I remarked, looking straight into his eyes.

Maxwell stood up slowly. The way he moved was clean and sharp, like he never wasted any energy.

“You're in my house. Dine on my table. And now this?"

I watched him poured himself a drink from the bar cart. He didn't take a sip. Just hold it in his hand like it was a prop.

“Do you know how many people have tried to get close to Damian?” he asked. “They smiled. They played nice. They made him feel safe. And then they stabbed him in the back.”

“I’m not like them,” I said.

“I don't think so,” he snapped. “Because why would you engage in such forbidden romance with your cousin's fiance.”

He was losing his composure now as he walked toward me with heavy steps.

“Damian believes in things. In people. You know what that makes him?”

"Brave,” I replied.

He slammed the glass against the desk.

“No,” he said, his voice low and tight. “It makes him weak. Vulnerable. Easy to mess with.”

"I would never hurt him,” I said, my voice sounding like a promise.

He growled, "You already have."

I got up facing him. We were only a few feet apart now.

“I understand your fear, but you don't get to dictate how he is going to live his life.”

“He is my son,” he said, his voice sharp.

“And not your prisoner,” I shot back, my eyes turning red.

“You think love gives you the audacity here?” Maxwell snapped. “This is not a child play. And you’re playing with fire.”

“And I'm going to quench it,” I replied, my eyes looking straight into his.

Silence. A cold, deafening one.

He looked at me with his brows raised and his chest rising.

“You and Damian,” he said slowly, “ends now.”

I didn't flinch. "I'm not going to leave him."

"Then you should be ready to face my wrath.

That should have scared me. But the truth was I'm not afraid of his threat. SoI let that sink in the air.

And then I told him, “Don’t you push him too much, or else he won’t come back.”

Maxwell clenched his jaw. Then I saw it in his eyes.

Fear.

He wasn't just mad. He was afraid of losing son and control.

I turned around and made my way to the door. I didn't bother to say goodbye. But his last word made me halted at the door.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he said. “Especially people who look like they’re telling the truth.”

I looked over my shoulder but I didn't uttered a word. But something twisted inside me as I walked out of his office.

Because it looked like I was telling the truth.

The sun was going down by the time I found Damian on the balcony.

He stood next to the stone wall, while the wind played with the collar of his shirt. His hands were deep in his pockets, as if he were trying to hold something back.

At first, he didn't look at me.

"I assume you know he called for me," I said in a soft voice.

Damian nodded.

I could read his face. But I could see dark spots under his eyes. The slight redness in his neck from stress

"What did he say?"

“He said he doesn’t trust me,” I said. “Or anyone.”

He didn't answer with words. But I knew he understood more than I said because of the way his shoulders dropped.

I moved closer to him, not touching but close.

“He’s scared,” I said. “But not us though, but you. Of what you make him feel. He doesn’t know how to love something he can’t control.”

Damian took a deep breath. Peaceful. Almost broken.

“He said we have to stop,” I added.

Damian turned to look at me then.

“But I told him No.”

The air grew stronger and the sky turned orange and gold as we stayed there for a very long time, staring at each other.

But I still didn't move a bit. I wasn't going to leave. Unless he asked me to.

~~~

I sat on the edge of my bed that night with my phone in my hand.

I typed out five different messages but got rid of all of them.

What could I say?

I miss you. I want you. It doesn't matter what your father says.

None of it felt genuine enough.

As I was about to try and message him again, a message popped up on my screen.

It was from Damian.

Just a screenshot of an email from his assistant.

URGENT PRESS REQUEST: WHO IS THE CEO'S SECRET LOVER?*

My heart skipped a beat as I stared at the message, my hand covering my mouth.

The first crack had started. The real game had began

And now—It was just a matter of time.