Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Damian

The call came in at six in the morning, before I’d even finished my coffee.

“We have a problem,” Mason said, voice tight in a way that immediately set me on edge.

“What kind of problem?”

“The kind that involves our biggest shareholder threatening to pull out unless we make some changes to the board.”

I set the coffee down. “Which shareholder?”

“Halloway Group. They’re citing ‘leadership instability’ as their concern.”

“Leadership instability.”

“Their words, not mine.” Mason paused. “Damian, I think this is Richard.”

My jaw tightened. “Explain.”

“Halloway’s CEO golfs with your father twice a month. This complaint surfaced two days after the wedding. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

I closed my eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. Of course. Richard had never been the type to attack directly when a slower, more calculated approach existed. Using a shareholder to manufacture doubt about my leadership was exactly the kind of quiet sabotage he specialized in.

“Get me a meeting with Halloway’s board,” I said. “Today, if possible.”

“Already scheduled. Two o’clock.”

Harper found me in the study an hour later, still going through the shareholder documents Mason had sent over, tension sitting heavy across my shoulders.

“Bad morning?”

“Richard’s decided marriage wasn’t punishment enough,” I said. “Now he’s coming for the company.”

Harper sat across from me, expression sharpening immediately. “What’s he doing?”

“Using a shareholder to question my leadership. Vague enough to be deniable, damaging enough to cause real problems if it spreads.”

“Can he actually hurt you? Legally?”

“Not directly. But shareholder confidence matters. If enough people start asking questions, it affects everything. Stock price, partnerships, deals already in progress.”

Harper’s expression turned thoughtful, the same careful, strategic look I remembered from the early months of our marriage, back when she’d still been quietly gathering information for an entirely different purpose.

“What if you got ahead of it?” she asked.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning instead of waiting for Halloway to voice concerns publicly, you address it directly. Show strength instead of playing defense.”

I studied her, something warming beneath the frustration. “You have a plan.”

“I have an idea. Might not be a full plan yet.”

“I’m listening.”

“Host something. A dinner, an event, whatever fits your world better than mine. Get Halloway’s board in a room, remind them exactly why they invested in Blackwood Industries in the first place. Confidence is contagious, Damian. So is doubt. You just have to control which one spreads first.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. It was, in fact, exactly the kind of move I might have suggested myself, if frustration hadn’t clouded my usual clarity.

“You’d help with this?”

“Try and stop me.”

By that afternoon, Harper had already begun coordinating with my assistant, arranging a dinner for the following week, guest list curated carefully to include not just Halloway’s board but several other key investors whose confidence mattered just as much.

The meeting with Halloway that afternoon went better than expected, though tension remained clearly present beneath the polite exchanges. Their concerns, vague as Mason predicted, centered mostly around “recent personal developments” affecting company focus — corporate language for questioning whether my marriage had somehow compromised my judgment.

“With respect,” I said evenly, addressing the board directly, “my personal life has never once affected the company’s performance. Our quarterly numbers reflect exactly that. I’d encourage you to examine facts rather than rumors before making any decisions.”

The meeting ended without resolution, though I sensed the seeds of doubt hadn’t fully taken root yet. Harper’s dinner, if executed well, might be exactly what tipped things back in our favor.

Harper

The dinner, held six days later, transformed our home into something closer to a small gala than an intimate gathering, though Harper had insisted on keeping the guest list tight and purposeful rather than sprawling and impersonal.

“You look nervous,” I said, watching Damian adjust his cufflinks for the third time.

“I don’t get nervous.”

“You’re lying.”

He exhaled, dropping the pretense. “This matters more than most business dinners, Harper. If this goes badly—”

“It won’t.” I straightened his tie, meeting his eyes steadily. “You built this company from nothing after your father tried destroying every part of your confidence. You’ve survived worse than a manufactured shareholder complaint.”

“With you beside me this time.”

“Exactly. And that’s an advantage, not a liability. No matter what Richard wants them to believe.”

The dinner began smoothly, conversation flowing easily between business associates and their partners, Damian navigating each interaction with the calm authority I’d grown to admire since our earliest days together. I stayed close throughout the evening, offering warmth where his natural reserve occasionally needed softening, watching carefully for any lingering doubt among Halloway’s representatives.

It was during dessert that Marcus Halloway himself finally addressed the elephant sitting quietly at the table.

“I’ll be direct, Damian,” he said. “There’s been concern about focus. About whether personal matters might distract from business priorities going forward.”

The table quieted slightly, tension rippling outward.

Damian set his fork down calmly. “I understand the concern, Marcus. But let me ask you something. In the six months since my marriage, has our stock underperformed? Has a single deal fallen through due to negligence?”

“No,” Marcus admitted.

“Have quarterly earnings dropped in any measurable way?”

“They’ve actually increased.”

“Then I’d suggest the concern isn’t rooted in performance,” Damian said evenly. “It’s rooted in rumor. And rumors, unlike numbers, rarely hold up under scrutiny.”

I watched several board members exchange glances, something shifting subtly in the room’s atmosphere. Damian’s calm confidence, backed entirely by factual performance, left little room for continued doubt.

“For what it’s worth,” I added, deciding the moment called for input rather than silence, “I’ve watched Damian handle crises that would break most people. Personal happiness hasn’t weakened his judgment. If anything, it’s sharpened it. He has more reason now than ever to protect everything he’s built.”

Marcus studied me for a long moment, something like respect crossing his expression. “Well said, Mrs. Blackwood.”

The tension in the room eased noticeably after that, conversation drifting back toward lighter topics for the remainder of the evening. By the time guests began departing, the earlier doubt had largely dissolved, replaced by renewed confidence that seemed, for now, thoroughly restored.

Once the last guest left, Damian pulled me close in the quiet entryway, exhaustion and relief mixing visibly across his expression.

“You were incredible tonight,” he said.

“We were incredible tonight.”

“Richard’s going to be furious this didn’t work.”

“Let him be furious,” I said. “He’s running out of moves, Damian. Every scheme he tries just proves how little power he actually has left.”

Damian pressed a kiss to my forehead, something steady and grateful in the gesture. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You survived long enough to meet me,” I said. “That’s usually how these things work.”

He laughed, pulling me closer, the tension from the entire week finally beginning to ease from his shoulders. Whatever Richard tried next, whatever quiet sabotage still waited somewhere down the road, we’d face it exactly the way we’d faced everything else since the wedding.