The Collision Of Two Worlds

Damon’s POV

~•~

My father had been dead a year, and still his voice reached me from the grave through the neat letters of a will that bound me like chains.

{“My son Damon would have to get married before my wealth should be completely passed to him.”}

A man who spent his life teaching me that power was taken and not given, left me with this, Marriage, of all things, as the key to the empire I had already bled for.

I already controlled Langford Global. I had taken it piece by piece, cutting away weakness, forcing this machine to obey me. The lawyers knew it. The board knew it. But the estate,, the full fortune, the ownership that would leave no doubt, was still behind that one locked door. Marriage.

Love had no place in my world. It was strategy, nothing more. If I had to chain myself to a woman, then she had to be more than a pretty name on paper. She had to be sharp and fearless, someone who would not break when the world looked at her the way it looked at me.

But she did not exist yet. I hadn’t found her and still, time was moving.

I pushed the thought aside as I made my way to the boardroom.

The room quieted the second I walked in. Men and women in suits straightened their backs and cleared their throats.

I sat at the head of the table. “Let’s begin.”

The company was mine already, and soon the rest would be too.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Vivienne’s POV

~•~

The office felt different that morning. The kind of different that made my stomach twist before anyone said a word. The halls, usually filled with chatter and quick laughter, were quiet. People walked fast with their heads down and their eyes avoiding each other. Phones rang but no one lingered on calls. Something had happened.

Susan caught my arm before I even reached my desk. Her face was pale. “Viv, you heard yet?”

I frowned. “Heard what?”

She pulled me closer, lowered her voice. “Langford Global bought us out.”

The words sank into me like ice. “What?”

She nodded quickly, almost like she wanted to get it over with. “It’s done. Signed. We’re under them now.”

For a second, the screens, the desks, and even Susan’s face, everything blurred. “That can’t be true. There was no warning.”

“That’s what everyone’s saying,” she whispered. “But it’s real.”

I swallowed hard. “Who’s heading the transition?”

She gave me a look I didn’t want to see. “Mr Damon Langford.”

The name hit me like a slap. My throat tightened. I didn’t need her to explain. I remembered. The gala. His eyes, cool and sharp as glass. His voice, slicing me down in front of an audience. The smirk when I tried to fight back. The humiliation that clung to me for weeks.

Susan touched my arm again. “Viv, don’t let him rattle you. You’re stronger now. He’s just a man.”

Just a man. No. Damon Langford was not just anything and now, he was my boss.

A meeting was called within the hour and when I walked into the room, the air felt charged, like it could crack open any second. Executives filled the seats, but all eyes slid to the head of the table. He was already there, hands folded neatly, dark eyes scanning the room as if he owned every breath in it. Which, I supposed, he did.

Our eyes met. That same smirk, faint but sharp, tugged at his mouth. He remembered me.

I took a seat, my back straight, my pulse loud in my ears.

The meeting began with the usual pleasantries of numbers, introductions, and plans. I barely heard them. I felt his gaze, steady and deliberate. And then, when the silence stretched too long, he spoke.

“You’re late.”

The words cut clean through the room. Heads turned toward me.

I glanced at the clock. “It’s 9:00 sharp.”

“Exactly,” he said. His voice was smooth, but the edge was there. “Sharp means before. Not scrambling into a chair at the last second.”

I met his eyes. “If you want me here five minutes early, Mr. Langford, then say so. Otherwise, I’ll keep following the time on the schedule.”

A flicker of amusement passed across his face, quick but undeniable. “Noted. You follow rules to the letter.”

“I follow them as written,” I said. “It avoids misunderstandings.”

His gaze lingered, unblinking. “Or it gives you excuses.”

I held his stare. “I don’t need excuses.”

The tension was thick enough to choke on. Susan shifted beside me, her hand brushing my arm in warning. But I wasn’t looking away.

Damon leaned back, his tone casual, but his eyes never softened. “Let me make one thing clear to everyone in this room. Langford Global does not run on misunderstandings. We run on results. I don’t give in to excuses. I don’t give in to weakness. And I don’t give in to the doctrine of second chances.”

Something inside me twisted. Second chances were the ground I stood on. Without them, I wouldn’t still be breathing. Without them, Liam wouldn’t still be fighting. My whole life was stitched together with them, fragile but holding.

I forced my voice steady. “That’s a dangerous doctrine, Mr. Langford. People fail. They fall, but they get back up again. If you cut them off at the first slip, you’ll lose more than you gain.”

A silence followed. His eyes narrowed slightly, like I had just told him a secret code he didn’t believe in.

He tilted his head. “And yet, Ms. Hartley, you’re sitting here because you haven’t slipped.”

I leaned forward, my voice lower. “Not because of you. Because I fight. Every day.”

The faintest pause. Then his smirk returned. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

The meeting went on, but for me, it was already decided. This wasn’t just business. This was war.