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Chapter twenty two

Author: Lily Grayson
last update Last Updated: 2025-07-05 07:38:53

Sophie's pov

*The celler*

The door slammed shut with the finality of a coffin lid, the sound reverberating through nine-year-old Damien's bones. Dust motes swirled in the single shaft of light from the high basement window before darkness swallowed them whole.

"Three days," Charles Blackstone's voice filtered through the heavy oak, distorted and hollow like he was speaking through water. "Let's see if darkness can cure weakness."

The lock clicked - a sound Damien would hear in his nightmares for decades.

Alone in the freezing dark, the boy pressed his palms against the rough stone walls, counting each uneven block to steady his breathing.

His exhales came in ragged puffs of white despite the summer heat upstairs. The single bare bulb swung overhead on its frayed cord, casting monstrous shadows that danced with every creak of the old townhouse.

"Don't cry. Don't give him the satisfaction." Young Damien said to himself.

But when the bulb flickered out - plunging him into perfe
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  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter thirty-four

    Sophie's POV The phone's vibration against the marble nightstand jolted me awake at 3:17 AM. A cruel coincidence that same minute when my father had taken his last breath years before. The hospital's caller ID glared up at me like an accusation in the dark. "Miss Laurent," the administrator's voice was crisp, sterile as an operating room, "we regret to inform you that without immediate payment, your sister's private care facility will terminate her treatment." A pause. The sound of papers shuffling. "The Blackstone Foundation has withdrawn its funding." The words hit like a physical blow. My stomach plummeted as the digital clock's red numbers seared themselves into my vision 03:18 AM now. "Marcus," I breathed, the name tasting like poison. Across the bedroom, Damien slept like a man who'd already conquered the world, one arm thrown carelessly over his face. Moonlight caught on the flash drive left carelessly on the dresser his so-called gift, his test. The silver casing win

  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter thirty-three

    Sophie's POV The Bentley's tires hummed against rain-slick asphalt as we tore through the English countryside, its powerful engine growling like a caged beast finally set free. I watched the landscape blur through the window’s endless stretches of moors swallowed by mist, skeletal trees bowing under the weight of the storm. Damien hadn't spoken since we left London. His profile might have been carved from marble for all the emotion it showed, but I saw the truth in the way his fingers flexed around the steering wheel. In the barely perceptible tic in his jaw. The flash drive in my pocket burned like a brand. "Damien" "Don't." His voice was gravel. "Not yet." The first iron gates appeared like sentinels in the fog, their rusted bars twisted into intricate thorn patterns. As we passed through, something cold slithered down my spine. The estate's long-abandoned security cameras hung like dead birds from their mounts, their lenses shattered. Blackthorn Hall emerged from the

  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter thirty-one

    Sophie's POVThe Blackstone archives smelled of old money and older sins a heady mix of decaying paper, leather bindings, and the faint metallic tang of the vault's climate control system. My fingertips left barely perceptible indentations on the cardboard banker's boxes as I worked through the 1990s financial records. The motion-activated lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows between the steel shelving units that stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. I was examining a particularly dense file of offshore transactions when the air pressure changed. The hairs on my nape rose before I heard the deliberate clearing of a throat. "Researching ancient history, Sophie?" Marcus's voice oozed across the space between us, smooth as aged whiskey over ice. I turned slowly, careful to keep my expression neutral as I took in his perfectly tailored Brioni suit charcoal gray with the faintest pinstripe, costing more than most people made in a month. "Provenance work for the Monet ac

  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter thirty-one

    Sophie's POVThe Blackstone archives smelled of old money and older sins a heady mix of decaying paper, leather bindings, and the faint metallic tang of the vault's climate control system. My fingertips left barely perceptible indentations on the cardboard banker's boxes as I worked through the 1990s financial records. The motion-activated lights flickered overhead, casting long shadows between the steel shelving units that stretched toward the vaulted ceiling. I was examining a particularly dense file of offshore transactions when the air pressure changed. The hairs on my nape rose before I heard the deliberate clearing of a throat. "Researching ancient history, Sophie?" Marcus's voice oozed across the space between us, smooth as aged whiskey over ice. I turned slowly, careful to keep my expression neutral as I took in his perfectly tailored Brioni suit charcoal gray with the faintest pinstripe, costing more than most people made in a month. "Provenance work for the Monet ac

  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter thirty

    Sophie's POV **The Study** The penthouse study smelled of Damien’s cologne bergamot and sandalwood with an undercurrent of something darker and the lingering smoke from last night’s whiskey. The scent wrapped around me like a second skin as I stood before his desk, my fingers trembling against the worn leather of the ledger. ‘His’ ledger. The one that laid bare every anonymous payment, every secret salvation for Lillian. The pages were heavy in my hands, the entries meticulous dates, amounts, hospitals, treatments all in that precise, unforgiving script that was so quintessentially Damien. **12/15 - NY Presbyterian - Lillian Laurent - $87,000 (Initial Dx)** **6/16 - Memorial Sloan Kettering - $240,000 (Stem Cell Harvest)** **9/17 - Mount Sinai - $650,000 (CAR-T Therapy)** Years of payments. Years of lies. I lifted my gaze. Damien sat behind his desk, the morning light cutting across his face, etching the sharp angles of his cheekbones in gold. He was watching

  • The Billionaire's Temporary Mistress    Chapter twenty nine

    Sophie's POV Rain lashed against the penthouse windows in diagonal slashes, turning Manhattan into a distorted watercolor nightmare. The glass vibrated with each gust of wind, the sound like a thousand whispered accusations. I barely noticed. The hospital report in my hands had stopped making sense after the third line. "Treatment Failure: Progression to Stage IV" The words blurred together, the medical jargon dissolving into one undeniable truth: “Lillian was running out of time.” I didn't hear him enter. One moment I was alone on the balcony, the cold iron railing biting into my palms as I tried to remember how to breathe. The next, the weight of Damien's suit jacket settled over my shoulders, still warm from his skin, carrying the faint scent of his cologne bergamot and something darker, something dangerous. I didn’t turn. I couldn’t. If he saw my face now it would be…"Sophie." His voice was rougher than usual, the way it got after back-to-back board meetings, whe

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