Chapter 7

Damian closed the door behind him and headed to the walk-in closet. He changed into a robe, then came back and sat down on the couch right next to Rosalie.

He took in her tense, frightened face and said in a flat voice, "You know who I am now, right? You and your sister might not have taken part in what your brother and Farrah did, but you two are his sisters. I'm using you to get back at him.

"As long as you behave yourselves and give me sons, you can leave whenever you want. If you want to stay, you'll both be the ladies of this household. The only reason I took your phones is that I'm divorcing Farrah. Until I get that divorce certificate, you two are not to contact anyone or leave the house. I don't need any extra trouble."

Rosalie shook her head and mumbled, "That can't be possible. Mr. Halston, you must be mistaken about Donald. There's no way he and Ms. Sutherland…"

Damian let out a short, cold laugh. He stood up, went into the walk-in closet again, and fished his phone out of the clothes he'd just changed out of. Then, after settling onto the couch, he pulled up a photo of the paternity test Vincent had sent him and held it up in front of Rosalie's face.

"Donald Lodge is the biological father of that bastard Farrah's carrying."

He watched her stare at the screen, her eyes widening with each word she read. He set his phone down on the coffee table and turned to face her with a sigh.

"I won't deny that you and your sister are the most innocent victims in all this," he said. "But you're still Donald's sisters. AeroMax Tech is a subsidiary company owned by the Sutherland family, and you and Isabel were promoted straight to managerial positions two months after joining the company.

"I think it's clear you're both also enjoying the perks of Farrah and Donald's little affair. I have a hundred different ways to make your whole family vanish without a trace, but as long as you two do as you're told and give me sons as compensation, I'm willing to let your family go. I might even spare Donald."

"You… You'll really let Donald off the hook?" Rosalie asked.

A mocking, wicked smile tugged at Damian's lips. He slowly reached out and gripped her delicate chin. The sudden touch made her flinch. Her eyes were wide with terror as she stared into his sinister gaze.

His smile twisted into something more feral, as though her fear pleased him. "I think trading you two for a whore like Farrah is a pretty good deal."

His voice dripped with contempt. "Since Donald managed to seduce her so easily, she must've been rotten to the core from the start. Even if he hadn't done it, some other guy would have at some point."

Rosalie paled at the sound of Damian's icy laughter. Her lips trembled, but she couldn't make a sound.

Damian kept sneering, his gaze like twin blades cutting straight into her heart. His voice was thick with mockery and resentment. "Honestly, I should be thanking Donald for showing me so early on in my marriage what a cheap whore Farrah really is."

"You… I… Mr. Halston, we…"

Tears suddenly filled Rosalie's eyes. She lifted a hand to push away the fingers clamped around her chin, but it froze as it hovered near his wrist, seemingly too scared to touch him. She shrank from his predatory stare and sobbed incoherently.

Damian sighed to himself, released her chin, and wrapped his right arm around her shoulders. When he felt the slight tremor running through her body, he sighed again before speaking.

"I'll be honest—I liked you and Isabel from the moment I first saw you. You're every bit as pretty as Farrah, and you're exactly my type."

"M-Mr. Halston, I… Isabel and I…" Rosalie stammered, her voice shaking so badly that she couldn't form a proper sentence.

Damian scooped her up and settled her on his lap, one arm locked firmly around her waist. He met her eyes and gave a lazy smile. "Relax, I don't bite. You'll both be my girlfriends from now on, as long as you behave and don't do anything to piss me off."

Rosalie stared at him in stunned silence, her shock written all over her face. Still smiling, Damian leaned in and kissed her soft, red lips. When he felt the fight slowly drain out of her, he finally drew back, taking in her flushed cheeks and the dazed, unfocused look in her eyes.

"We never even showered after what happened back at that abandoned development," he murmured. "Once Isabel's done in the bathroom, let's wash up together."

"N-No, I… I can't…" Rosalie whimpered.

Damian's lips twisted into a wicked grin. He leaned in close to her ear and chuckled mockingly. "Will it be just you and me in there, or should we go in now so Isabel can join us?"

Rosalie's eyes went wide with terror. Her tears spilled over again as she shook her head and repeatedly mumbled her objection to that. But when Damian suddenly stood, lifting her in his arms and carrying her toward the bathroom, she kicked wildly.

She shook her head harder and cried desperately, "Just us! We can shower together—just you and me! Don't… don't go in there now!"

The bathroom door swung open just then. Isabel poked her head out, freezing when she saw Damian approaching with Rosalie in his arms. He kept walking, using Rosalie's dangling foot to push the door all the way open.

Isabel let out a sharp scream, clutching the front of her bathrobe with both hands as she shrank back into a corner of the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower with your sister," Damian drawled. "Wanna join us?"

Her eyes went round with horror. When she saw him carrying Rosalie closer, she suddenly snapped out of it and bolted past them like a frightened rabbit, a strangled cry escaping her lips. She fled the bathroom.

She darted a panicked look around the bedroom, then ran straight to the door. The moment she pulled it open and saw the bodyguards stationed in the hallway, she slammed it shut again and just stood there for a second, stunned.

Then she spun around, hurried to the bed, and yanked up the thin comforter. She dove underneath it, burying her head beneath the covers.

Moments later, Rosalie's frantic pleas started drifting out from the bathroom. A few minutes after that, they turned into muffled gasps and choked moans.

Isabel, curled up under the covers, trembled violently as she remembered what had happened back at the abandoned development. She clamped a hand over her mouth to smother her sobs.

…

In Saltonvale's Oakridge district, a woman who looked to be almost 50 years old followed a maid into the living room of an old brick-and-stucco mansion.

The instant she saw the elderly man seated on the couch, she pushed the maid aside and ran to the man, dropping to her knees in front of him.

She thrust a sheaf of papers up toward him as she cried, "Mr. Halston Senior, I'm begging you—please save Joseph's son! His name is Donald Lodge, and I promise you he's Joseph's flesh and blood. This is the paternity test they did!"

The old man, Quentin Halston, frowned. He glanced at the report in her hands, then gave a derisive snort. "Joseph died three years ago. When was this test done?"

"Four years ago. They really are father and son. Damian has just taken Donald away, so please save him! Donald is your grandson, too!"