Semua Bab The chef and The charmer: Bab 101 - Bab 110

Damien povThe boardroom’s tension clung to the air like static before a storm.Twelve directors, each a pillar of Blackstone Enterprises, sat in stony silence. The final vote had been cast, and the verdict was irrefutable—but no one dared to speak first. The weight of the decision loomed like a verdict in a trial, not a corporate promotion.Across the table, Lawrence sat stiffly, hands clasped in front of him as if still trying to will the outcome to change. His eyes, icy and unblinking, were locked on me.“You think this is over?” he finally said, his voice a whisper made sharp by venom. “Enjoy your little victory, Damian. The real game starts now.”I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. I’d prepared for this moment—mentally, emotionally, and tactically—for weeks. “I’m ready.”Lawrence stood abruptly, his chair screeching against the marble floor. He gathered his papers with theatrical precision, the sound of shuffling documents echoing in the silence like a gunshot.“We’ll see,” he spat, a

Third-Person POVThe candlelit study in Lawrence Blackstone’s penthouse smelled faintly of sandalwood and betrayal.He sat behind a carved mahogany desk, swirling whiskey in a crystal tumbler, his gaze fixed on the flickering flame in the fireplace. It danced like the thoughts in his head—restless, ruthless, ready.“She forgave you?” he asked, voice smooth as silk, laced with venom.Emma stood across from him, arms tightly folded, eyes stormy. “Not exactly. She said I had to earn it. But she didn’t shut the door. That’s all we need.”A cruel smile tugged at Lawrence’s lips. “Good girl.”Emma flinched slightly at the condescension, but said nothing. She had struck her deal with the devil, and she intended to see it through.“You played the remorse well,” Lawrence said, pouring her a drink. “Tears, shaking voice, the whole broken-sister act.”Emma didn’t take the glass. “I didn’t have to fake all of it.”He snorted. “Please spare me the sentimentality. We both know you hate her.”Her ja

Damian’s POVSomething felt off the moment I walked into the penthouse.It was quiet—too quiet. Evelyn always left something playing in the background: jazz in the mornings, soul at night. But tonight, the silence hit me like a scream muffled by expensive walls.“Evelyn?” I called out, loosening my tie as I stepped inside.No answer.I moved through the living room, scanning for signs of her—shoes by the door, her jacket on the armchair, the soft hum of her voice from the other room.Nothing.I checked the kitchen next. Still warm from earlier. The champagne we planned to open after the gala sat in a silver bucket, unopened. Two flutes. Untouched.Panic coiled low in my gut.I reached for my phone and called her.One ring. Two. Four. Voicemail.I redialed.Still nothing.“Where the hell are you?” I muttered, pacing now. “You said you’d be ready.”My pulse started to rise. I told myself not to jump to conclusions—maybe she ran out for makeup, maybe she took a walk to clear her head.Bu

Damian’s POVChains rattled.The cold, merciless bite of the cuffs reminded me how far we’d fallen. Each movement carved fresh grooves into my skin, a punishment I welcomed. It grounded me. It was better than drowning in the guilt.I shifted slightly, the weight of the moment pressing down on my shoulders like wet cement. Evelyn hadn’t spoken since everything unraveled—since the lie we’d built our fragile peace upon crumbled into dust.Not a word about the accident.Not a word about me.She just sat there, frozen, her silence louder than any scream.And I didn’t blame her.Hell, I couldn’t even look at her without feeling like my insides were being torn apart by wild dogs. The memory of her trusting eyes, the sound of her laughter, all of it played on repeat in my mind like a cruel joke. I’d sworn to protect her. Now we were both prisoners.My thoughts spiraled into a storm—chaotic, desperate. How do I fix this? How do I fight Lawrence, get her out, undo something that can’t be undone

Damian’s POVThe weight of the recently past event is slowly catching up on me since the whole kidnapping, Emma was arrested for being accomplice with Lawrence now being dead and both Chris and Evelyn being in the hospital, i don’t even have time to rest now i have being called into the office of whatever reasonI’m in my office before dawn. The city lights beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows are distant constellations, uncaring and silent. Inside, every light is off except the soft glow of my laptop on the mahogany desk. The world is still reeling—yesterday was marathon, today feels like an expectation to sprint againThe stillness breaks with a single email alert. The sender is all caps: MR John—the board’s legal counsel. Subject line: EMERGENCY EXECUTIVE MEETING, IMMEDIATE.My heart tightens, as if a steel band squeezed around my ribs. My breath hitches. They’re circling.I sit up straighter, my limbs trembling. Honestly, a week ago panic might have broken me, like a wave crashing