Chapter 3:MEET ME AT HISTORY

DAMON’S POV

The Blackwood old house has always felt like a place where decisions were made, not discussed and tonight is no different.

The moment I walk in I notice the table was set, three teacups were perfectly placed untouched, nothing in this house is ever random, and that alone tells me everything I need to know. Old Mrs Blackwood is up to something again.

“She is not here yet.” Old Mrs Blackwood, says from her seat, her voice calm and steady, and I instantly knew who this She was.

I exhale slowly and loosen my cuff, walking further into the room. “You set this up without telling me again. I’m starting to think you enjoy doing that.”

“I do what is necessary.” She replies, lifting her teacup with measured grace. “And what is necessary right now is that you stop delaying what has already been agreed upon.”

I stopped in front of her, my gaze cold. “I already agreed to the engagement, but I will not agree to a rushed wedding arranged behind my back.”

Her eyes meet mine, sharp and unshaken. “It has been two years, Damon. Two years of silence, postponement, and excuses. At some point, it stops being patience and starts being refusal.”

“I never refused the engagement.” I resorted, keeping my voice low.

“You never moved forward either.” She sipped her tea gracefully.

I let out a quiet breath, irritation settling in my chest. “And that gives you the right to step in and decide the timing for me?”

“It gives me the responsibility to make sure you do not damage what this family has built,” she says, her tone still even but heavier now. “Chelsea Spencer is not just a woman, she is an alliance.”

“Her family dominates the American market in ways that complement everything you are trying to expand into. This marriage is not optional, it is strategic.”

“I am aware of who she is,” I reply, my voice tightening slightly. “I was there when you made that very clear the first time.”

“Then you should also be aware that opportunities like this are not meant to sit idle while you sort through personal hesitation.” She shot back, raising her voice a bit.

I look away for a second, then back at her. “This is not hesitation.” I sighed. This is me choosing not to rush into something just because it looks good on paper.”

“And what you chose before looked better?” she asks, her gaze sharpening just enough to make the point land.

“I told you not to ever bring that up.” I say quietly.

“And I told you it is the reason we are here.” she replies, not raising her voice, but not softening either.

“You chose a woman you loved five years ago, and she walked away without looking back. You let emotion lead, and it costs you. I will not watch you repeat that mistake by standing still and pretending it is control.”

“I am not standing still,” I say, my tone firm now. “I am deciding what I want.”

“No,” she corrects calmly. “You are deciding what you want to avoid.” Then she continues, slower this time, more deliberate. “Chelsea understands your world. She understands what it means to stand beside you, not against you.”

“She will not walk away, nor will she disrupt what you have built. Rather she will strengthen it.”

“That sounds like a guarantee, not marriage.” I mutter.

“That is the best guarantee you will ever get.”

I run a hand over my jaw, pacing once before stopping. “And what if I do not want a guarantee?”

“Then you are still thinking like a man who believes life will reward him for taking risks that have already proven to fail,” she says, watching me carefully. “Marriage is not about excitement nor love, Damon. It is about stability.”

“It is about ensuring that everything you have does not collapse because of one wrong choice.”

“And you believe she is the right one? A woman I don't love?”

“I know she is the right one for what you need, love isn’t necessary.”

I let out a quiet laugh, though there is nothing amusing about it. “You keep saying what I need like I have no say in it.”

“You had your say,” she replies. “You used it poorly. Now I will take control.”

That lands harder than anything else she has said.

I reach for my keys on the table, my decision already made. “I am not sitting here waiting for her to walk in like this is some kind of business negotiation .”

Her eyes narrow slightly, but her voice stays calm. “Walking away will not change the outcome.”

“It changes my involvement in it,” I say, my tone steady but final. “I agreed to an engagement because it made sense at the time.”

“That does not mean I am ready to turn it into something permanent on your schedule.”

“It is no longer just your schedule,” she replies. “Her family is expecting movement. Do you understand what it means to keep them waiting?”

“I understand exactly what it means,” I say, meeting her gaze. “And I also understand that I am the one who has to live with that decision, not them.”

“You will live with it either way.”

“Then I will decide how to live with it, you have no right to decide my affairs.”

She quietly stared at me, and shook her head. “You are still in love with her.”

My jaw tightens instantly. “No, I am not.”

“You are,” she insists softly. “You may not say her name, but every decision you make lately is shaped by what happened with her. You are either running from it or pushing against it, but you are not free of it.”

I hold her gaze for a long second, then I shake my head slightly. “You can believe that if you want.”

“And you can keep pretending it is not true,” she replies.

I turn toward the door.“You will meet Chelsea tonight,” she says behind me. “Whether it is here or somewhere else, it will happen.”

I pause, just for a second, then answer without looking back. “i will not meet her tonight, tell her to stay off my part, or I won't be polite.”

“Damon?” She called, furrowing her brows.

“I will meet Ms Spencer whenever I decide.” I bowed to her and walked out of the room.

The drive back feels tighter than usual, My fingers clenched around the steering wheel. Chelsea Spencer, a name that comes with power, influence, expectation. A woman chosen because she fits perfectly into a system that has already been built.

My grip tightens slightly on the steering wheel.

Everything about the alliance made sense, but yet.. it does not sit right. And somehow, out of everything in my head, one person keeps pushing through.

Serah, I could picture her standing in my office yesterday, like nothing had happened between. Like she wasn't the woman who left me with just a single line letter.

Serah was my favorite drinking buddy back then, well no harsh feelings but I need a bottle. And I want to take it looking at the face of the woman who almost made me miserable.

I picked up my phone without thinking, I scrolled through my favorites, her name was the only one saved as my favourite.

I stared at it for a second, then I pressed the call button…..It rings then stopped with any answer…i dialed again and this time she picked.

“Hello Mr Blackwood?” Her voice was hoarse but steady, like she already knows this is not a normal call.

“Meet me at history.” I ordered her, my tone calm but firm.

“Now?” she asks, confusion clear in her voice. “I thought I start on Monday, so I do not really understand why you are calling me today.”

“You start on Monday,” I reply, “but you are meeting me today.”

There is a pause, longer this time, then she speaks again, slower. “Damon, if this is about the job, you can just tell me what you need me to prepare or….”

“It is not about preparation,” I cut in, my voice low but controlled. “Just be there in thirty minutes and don't keep me waiting.”