Chapter 2

Damian's POV

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the headache threatening to split my skull.

The second was the woman sleeping beside me.

I stared at her for a moment, trying to remember her name. Isabelle. That was it.

She looked peaceful, her dark hair spread across the pillow, completely unaware that I was already considering how to leave without waking her. Anyways, I'm sure she didn't even care

I slipped out of bed, dressed, and checked my watch. It was almost 8:00am.

Damn it.

I had a meeting at the office that morning, and I was already running late.

I reached for my wallet, pulled out a few bills, and placed them neatly on the pillow beside her. It wasn't an apology, nor was it an invitation to see me again. It was simply the easiest way to end what had happened between us.

Last night was unexpected, but enjoyable. It had been a long time since I'd had sex. Last night I forgot about the company, my father's endless expectations, and the responsibilities that came with my surname. But now I'm back to reality.

But that was all it was.

A one-night stand.

I hadn't been involved with anyone seriously in months, and I had no intention of changing that now. Relationships demanded time, patience, and a level of commitment I had no interest in giving.

I preferred my freedom.

I picked up my phone and headed for the door without looking back.

By the time I reached the lobby, Marcus, my driver, was waiting beside the car.

"Good morning, sir."

"Morning. Take me to the office."

He opened the door, and I settled into the back seat, already checking my emails.

I had barely finished reading the first one when my phone began to ring.

My father, Whitmore Hayes.

I answered without looking away from the screen. "What's wrong?"

"Where are you?", he asked.

"On my way to the office. Why?"

"I want you at the house immediately. There's an important family meeting."

I frowned. "Then schedule it for this evening. I have work to do."

"This is not a request, Damian."

I leaned back, irritation spreading through me. "Father, whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait."

"It cannot. Get here now."

He ended the call.

I stared at the screen, tempted to call him back and remind him that I was no longer a child he could summon whenever he pleased.

Instead, I lowered my phone.

"Change of plans, Marcus. Take me home."

"Yes, sir."

Something told me my morning was about to get considerably worse.

---

The moment I entered the Whitmore estate, I understood why my father had insisted on my immediate presence.

Everyone was there.

My father sat at the head of the long dining table, his expression stern. My younger sister, Natalie, occupied the chair beside him, quiet. Her best friend, Maya Anderson, sat across from her with her parents.

I stopped in the doorway.

"What is this? A family reunion?"

Father gestured toward the empty chair opposite him.

"Sit down, Damian."

I remained standing. "I'd prefer an explanation first."

Maya's mother exchanged a glance with her husband. Maya herself gave me a small, hopeful smile. That was when I began to suspect what this was about.

"No," I said immediately.

Father's eyes narrowed. "You haven't even heard what I have to say."

"I don't need to. If this has anything to do with arranging my marriage, the answer is no."

"Damian!" , Natalie whispered.

I ignored her. Maya's smile faded, and her father cleared his throat.

"We believe a union between our families would be beneficial to everyone," he began carefully. "Our families have known each other for years, and Maya is a wonderful young woman."

"I'm sure she is," I replied. "But I'm not interested in marrying her."

The silence that followed was uncomfortable. Maya looked down at her hands.

For a brief moment, I felt a flicker of guilt. She hadn't done anything wrong. But that didn't mean I should be expected to marry her to satisfy our parents.

I turned toward the door.

"This meeting is over for me."

"Damian, sit down!" Father barked.

I stopped but didn't turn around.

"With all due respect, you've invited these people into our home to discuss my future without bothering to ask what I want. I won't participate in this."

I faced Maya's parents.

"I'm sorry you've been brought into an uncomfortable situation. Maya deserves someone who actually wants to marry her. That person isn't me."

Then I looked at Maya.

"I'm sorry."

I left before anyone could respond. I saw Maya as my sister's best friend, nothing else. Behind me, my father's voice thundered through the room.

"Everyone, please excuse us."

I heard chairs moving and quiet murmurs as Maya's family gathered their belongings. Natalie followed them toward the entrance, probably trying to smooth things over.

I continued down the hallway, but I hadn't reached the stairs when my father called my name.

"Damian! My study. Now!."

I closed my eyes briefly.

---

My father shut the study door behind us.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.

I turned to face him. "You want to arrange my marriage without even discussing it with me, and I'm the one with a problem?"

"This is about the future of our family!"

"Then explain it to me instead of inviting people over to negotiate my life like I'm a business deal."

His jaw tightened. For several seconds, he said nothing.

Then he lowered himself into his chair and pressed a hand against his chest. Something about the movement made my irritation falter.

"Father?"

"I'm fine”, he muttered.

"You don't look fine."

He waved away my concern, opened a drawer, and removed a medical folder. He placed it on the desk between us.

"Read it."

I stared at the folder before picking it up. The words blurred together for a moment as I read the doctor's report. Then I reached the diagnosis and felt my stomach tighten.

Heart disease.

I looked up slowly. "How long have you known?"

"Long enough."

"And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"I didn't want to worry you before I knew how serious it was."

"How serious is it now?"

My father leaned back, looking older than I'd ever seen him.

"Serious enough that I don't know how much time I have left."

For once, I had no sarcastic response. He continued before I could speak. "I have spent my entire life building Whitmore Enterprises. I've made sacrifices to ensure that this company survives long after I'm gone. But an empire means nothing if there's nobody prepared to carry it forward."

"So this is about the company."

"It's about more than the company. It's about our family, our legacy, and everything I've worked for."

He leaned forward.

"I want you married, Damian. I want an heir. Someone who can inherit this company and carry our name into the next generation."

"And if I refuse?"

His expression hardened.

"Then I will have to reconsider who inherits what I've spent my life building."

I stared at him, anger rising again.

"You would threaten your own son while you're lying to him about being sick?"

"I'm not threatening you. I'm making you understand the consequences of your choices."

I wanted to tell him that marriage wasn't a business strategy. That a child wasn't an item to be added to an inheritance plan. That he couldn't decide the rest of my life simply because he was afraid of dying.

But the words caught in my throat.

For the first time, I understood that my father's urgency wasn't entirely about control.

He was scared.

And he was determined to make sure his legacy survived him, even if it meant forcing me into a life I didn't want. I left the study without another word.

------

I went back to work and shut my door.

My father wanted a wife and an heir, and he was willing to threaten my inheritance to get them. I had spent years preparing to take over Whitmore Enterprises, but I wasn't about to let him decide who I should marry.

I loosened my tie and sat behind my desk.

There had to be another way.

My phone rang. Father's name flashed across the screen.

"What now?" I answered.

"You have one month to make a decision, Damian," he said firmly. "After that, I'll make the necessary changes to my will."

The call ended before I could respond. I stared at my phone, my jaw tightening. One month to secure my future, or risk losing everything I'd worked for.

For the first time in years, I had no idea what to do.