Seraphine Sinclair

Damon had not changed the sheets.

They still smelled like her.

It's been two weeks and the only thing the police managed to find was Naomi’s coat.

Stained with blood.

He had demanded that they continue the search.They had to find something, anything..

Damon refuses to accept she was gone until there's proof of that. A physical proof…

The house was too quiet, like a dark cloud covered the mansion, refusing to go away.

The staff moved quietly, avoided his study, and avoided his eyes. No one asked him anything anymore. No one offered condolences. That would mean they think she was really gone and he refuses to accept that.

Damon sat in the study with the lights off, the city barely visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. His phone lay on the desk in front of him.

No missed calls. No messages. Nothing new from the police.

He hadn’t slept.

He hadn’t eaten.

And each day felt like a punishment without her.

At some point, Patrick knocked but Damon didn’t answer. The knock came again, more hesitant this time.

Damon glanced over his shoulder, eyes dark with exhaustion, lips pale like ghosts. He looked nothing like himself and might as well be in competition with dracular.

“What is it?” He asked, his voice unusually calm.

“Sir… Mr. Pearl is here.”

Damon’s jaw tightened. That son of a bitch!

Damon stepped out of his office, walked past Patrick as he made his way down the stairs into the living area.

Jack was seated on the couch like he owned the place.

“What are you doing here?"

Jack glanced at Damon slowly, eyes scanning the man before him in silence. He tuts, standing on his feet.

“You look terrible, boy.”

Damon clenched his fist by his side, the audacity of this bastard to walk into his home after taking his wife away from h8m…

“My condolences,” Jack said quietly. “This must be… difficult.”

Damon chuckled, “Very brave of you." He said, covering the distance between them in slow strides, “To come into my house after what you’ve done.”

Jack sighed as though disappointed. “I was hoping we could speak like adults.”

Damon's gaze darkened.

Jack stepped closer, stopping a safe distance away. “The board is restless. Investors are nervous. A missing wife tied to a public accident is not the kind of attention a company like ours survives easily.”

Damon’s fingers curled tighter. The birds coming out of this man's lips infuriated him. The missing wife in question is his niece but not even a hint of concern in his face.

Damon couldn't believe his ears.

Jack continued. “You’re not thinking clearly. Grief does that to people. It makes them emotional and reckless.”

“You didn’t come here to discuss grief,” Damon said.

Jack met his gaze evenly. “No.” He looked around the house, “What good is that anyway?”

Silence stretched between them.

“You step down,” Jack said. “You hand over the company. Quietly. I stabilize things and in return, I make sure nothing else… unfortunate happens.”

“What exactly are you threatening?” Damon asked.

Jack’s mouth curved faintly. “You’ve already lost a great deal, Damon. I would hate for you to lose more.”

Something in Damon snapped.

He crossed the room in seconds and drove his fist into Jack’s face.

Jack stumbled back, crashing into the desk, shock flashing across his face before Damon was on him again. Another punch. And another. And another.

Damon didn’t stop to think, or to breathe. His fists moved like they had been begging for permission since the day Aaron died.

Jack tried to shield himself, but Damon dragged him forward by the collar and slammed him into the wall. Jack groaned.

His eyes landed on Damon in anger. “What do you think you're doing?!”

“You took the people I cared about away from me and you dare…” Damon snarled. “You dare to walk into my house and make me a bargain?"

He hit him again.

And again.

Jack’s knees buckled. Damon followed him down, straddling him, fists rising and falling with unchecked fury.

Naomi was gone. The one person who made life worth living was gone! What more did he have to lose? Absolutely nothing!

“Damon!”

Jordan’s voice cut through the room.

He burst in, rushing forward. He grabbed Damon by the shoulders, pulling with all his strength.

“Stop! Damon, stop!”

Damon resisted, struggling, breath ragged, eyes wild.

“Get off him!” Jordan shouted.

It took two more attempts before Jordan managed to drag him back. Damon stumbled, chest heaving, hands shaking, knuckles slick with blood.

Jack lay on the floor, coughing, clutching his side, his expensive suit ruined.

Jordan positioned himself between them. “Get out,” he told Jack, his voice shaking with anger. “Get out before I call the police.”

Jack wiped his mouth slowly, his eyes never leaving Damon.

For a second, he saw nothing but rage that could kill in Damon's eyes, rage that was ready to ruin himself and everyone around him.

Whatever he saw in Damon's eyes sent shivers down his spine. He straightened with effort and walked out without another word.

The door closed.

Damon stood there, unmoving, staring at the space Jack had occupied.

Then his legs gave out.

Jordan caught him just in time, lowering him into a chair. Damon didn’t fight it. He stared at his hands, at the blood on his skin, as though he didn’t recognize them.

“She’s not dead,” Jordan said, urgently. “You hear me? They haven’t found her body.”

Damon swallowed hard.

“I should have stopped her from going to work,” he said.

Jordan frowned. “What?”

“I told her to stay home,” Damon continued, voice hollow. “She smiled at me. Said she’d be fine.”

Jordan said nothing.

“I should have…” Damon exhaled, hands trembling.

The door opened again later that evening and his siblings filed in.

Jordan had to put a call through to all of them, worried Damon might do something diabolical.

Seraphine entered first, Victor followed, his face drawn tight with worry. Elara lingered in the doorway before stepping inside, eyes already teary.

Caleb came last, taking one conscious step after another.

Damon remained on the chair, his eyes dark with something no one could name.

Elara was the first to break. She crossed the room quickly and wrapped her arms around Damon’s shoulders. He stiffened, then sagged slightly, allowing it.

“We’re here,” she whispered. “We’re all here.”

Victor pulled a chair closer, sitting opposite Damon. “We’ll help you find her,” he said firmly. “Every resource we have.”

Jordan nodded. “We won’t stop looking.”

Caleb’s gaze moved around the room, noting the overturned chair, the faint bloodstains that hadn’t been cleaned yet. His eyes lingered on Damon’s knuckles.

“I’ve already started searching for the driver.” Caleb said calmly. “Harris told me this has something to do with Jack.”

Damon looked up then. “What have you found?”

“Enough to keep him behind bars for thirty years.” Caleb said.

Caleb was a hacker and for all Damom knew, he was excellent at his job.

Damon looked away.

“I’m still looking for the driver. I should get feedback tonight.”

Seraphine glanced at him, fingers digging into her skin in silence. She looked away, arms folded.

Goodness, this was harder than she thought.

Victor nods, “Let's keep the evidence we have on him for now and keep looking.” He turns to Damon. “I’ll have my men join the search team.”

“And I'll get my lawyers,” Elara said. She'd been busy fighting for her inheritance from her mother and she had the best of the best prosecutors and lawyers on her side.

Damon nodded slowly, but his eyes were distant. Dangerously distant.

Victor turned to his sister. “Sera?”

She glanced over briefly. “What?”

“You’re quiet.”

She shrugged. “There’s nothing to say.”

Elara frowned but said nothing. Jordan was too focused on Damon. Caleb’s attention flickered to Seraphine and narrowed.

She met his gaze and looked away.

Damon leaned back in his chair, exhaustion pulling at him from every direction.

“She was just starting to trust me,” he said quietly. “I finally stopped hurting her.”

Seraphine’s grip tightened.

“We’ll bring her home,” Victor said.

Seraphine turned back to the window. This all better be worth it or she would never forgive herself if Damon dies something drastic.