Chapter Two Hundred and Twenty-One

Damien’s POV

By the time I pulled into the driveway, night had already swallowed the neighborhood.

My head pounded from hours of useless talk with those self-righteous fossils on the board.

Every damn one of them had that same condescending tone.

“Mr. Kent, we respect your contributions, but the company needs stability.”

Stability.

As if I hadn’t built Imperial Aurium from the ground up with my bare hands.

As if Henry Brown hadn’t been golfing his way through meetings when I was sealing million-dollar deals.

I slammed the car door harder than necessary and stalked toward the house.

My jacket hung off my shoulder, and my tie felt like a noose around my throat.

Another day wasted. Another humiliation to swallow.

When I stepped inside, the house was unusually quiet.

No chatter from the staff, no television murmuring from the living room, no sign of my mother barking orders.

“Mother?” I called, glancing around.

The only answer was the soft ticking of the grandfather clock.

My brows furrowe