All Chapters of You're Mine, Damon Sinclair: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The faint hum of the heart monitor was softer that morning.Naomi sat upright on the bed, the white hospital sheets neatly tucked around her legs, watching the doctor adjust the monitor’s cables. Her hair had grown messy over the past few days, and she’d refused to let anyone but herself brush it out. There was something grounding about doing something by herself. Especially now that she had both Soonie and Damon fighting yo take care of her. Especially when she had to undergo her fractures. It was a mess and she found herself trying to separate fights instead of taking a rest. She had no idea who the patient and the family were anymore. Dr. Harlow was flipping through her chart, murmuring something about vitals and progress, her voice light but professional. “Your recovery has been remarkable, Naomi,” she said, offering a small, reassuring smile. “No signs of a concussion anymore, no new complications. You’ll still need to take it easy for a few weeks, but you’re strong. I think

The elevator doors slid open with a sharp ding. Damon stepped out, his stride clipped, measured, but every muscle in his body was coiled with anger. His hand was tight around his phone, Patrick’s last message replaying in his head. ‘Soonie was moved to the new architecture branch. She and Ms Naomi used to work together in the same department.’ He had asked Partrick to run a background check on Soonie and send it whatever he had in the next hour. All he knew now was that she and Naomi used to work in the same branch before he decided to open a new one of his newly acquired company. And here he was, stepping into the new branch, one he hadn't paid a visit to since he opened it, all for answers. A confession maybe who fucking knows?! His jaw flexed. Naomi’s terrified voice from the night before echoed faintly in his mind. She had another nightmare of being shoved down the stairs. The look of despair in her eyes was enough to make him burn the whole damned world to the ground

The café was quiet in the way expensive places often are, soft jazz playing, the scent of roasted beans blending with expensive perfume. Outside, rain slicked the streets, leaving the world painted in gray.Damon sat across from Jack, the man who had managed to twist every calm nerve in his body into a knot.Two cups of untouched coffee sat between them. The guards lined the corners of the café like shadows. Neither of them had the guts to come here without a security detail. Else, they would both have guns to each other's cranium by now. Nobody spoke, not at first.Jack stirred his cup lazily, the small silver spoon clinking against porcelain. “You look tense,” he said, voice calm, too calm.Damon’s jaw flexed. “You’re lucky I’m not doing worse.”Jack smirked faintly, not looking up. “Is that a threat?”“It's a promise,” Damon replied. “You’re going to tell me why you had someone push Naomi down the stairs.”Jack stopped stirring. The silence stretched thin.Finally, he looked up,

The ride to work was a quiet one. Patrick glanced at the rear view mirror, stealing glancing at Damon. He's never seen his boss this quiet, lost even. It's been a week since that explosion and the police were no good at finding any proof that Jack did it. How could they? He basically left no trace of himself in this. Patrick signed, if only Naomi could put her emotions aside and see what all this was about. And if only Damon would just tell her the truth. It would be agonising. Painful maybe but it's needed. Patrick pulled over at the parking lot and soon, he and Damon were walking past the reception to the executive floor. He had other businesses, other ventures that he hadn't stepped a foot into in weeks but he kept coming to this architectural firm. He might call it work but Patrick could see it for what he was. Damon stood in front of the elevator, one hand buried in his pocket, the other holding a folder he hadn’t opened once since stepping into the building. Patrick stood s

Damon stood motionless at the end of the table, every inch of him perfectly still, but the tension in his body was violent, ready to break. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner and the steady tick of the clock mounted on the far wall. He scanned the room slowly, one face at a time. The board members, men and women who had once cheered his every victory. Not one of them met his gaze now. They shifted uncomfortably in their seats, eyes darting toward Jack like he was some savior who had come to restore order. Cowards. “Step down?” Damon finally repeated, his voice low, too calm. “You want me to step down from a company I built from the ground up?” The chairman adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Sinclair, please understand this isn’t personal…” “Oh, it’s personal.” Damon’s voice sliced through the air. “Everything about this is personal. You think I don’t see what’s happening here?” He turned his glare to Jack, who was lounging casually in the seat that had always b