All Chapters of Damien's Willing Captive : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

ISABELLA’S POV Monday came in like a semi-truck. Agnes was still in my kitchen in her silk robe, fuzzy slippers, and warlord energy. She’d been pacing since 7AM with two phones, a laptop, and three tabs open titled "How to Intimidate Rich People Without Getting Arrested." “I’m telling you, Bella, whoever sent that message—Anastasia, the Dragon Queen, Satan with acrylics—I’m gonna handle them. You just focus on work. Let me take care of these credit-card-carrying dementors.” I sipped my coffee. “Agnes…I thought we talked about this yesterday. Just drop the issue.” She held up a USB stick like it was a murder weapon. “No way. They call me Tech Demon for a reason.” “Who calls you that?” “I call me that. And that’s enough.” I laughed, setting down my mug and grabbing my bag. “If you have to, then go easy on them. We don’t need you hacking into Anastasia’s skincare account or switching Mrs. Salvador’s playlist to gospel trap music.” “No promises,” she muttered, already

Damien’s POV Two months later, and my company was not only afloat—it was thriving. Funny, considering how close it came to crashing. All thanks to her. Cleo. The woman who saved my ass more than once now. The first time? She outsmarted that crazy woman who tried to ruin me by leaking private documents. The second? A cyber breach that could’ve destroyed years of our data integrity and leaked our confidential prototypes into the market. It came out of nowhere—anonymous server pings, encrypted spyware, PR nightmares waiting to explode. The bastards wanted headlines. Scandal. Me, in handcuffs. But Cleo—damn her—she’d figured it out within hours. She traced the worm to a ghost server hosted through a shell tech firm in the Caymans. Found the real leak, patched the system, and even turned the breach around to our advantage. The press ended up praising us for catching a flaw in our own system before it caused damage. We became the heroes. And Cleo? She became my shad

Damien’s POV Cleo dropped to her knees, naked desperation painted across her face. “He forced himself on me!” she cried, clutching at her chest, dragging in ragged breaths like she was the victim here. “I didn’t want it—he just grabbed me! Damien, you have to believe me!” I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “That’s what you said the last time,” I murmured. “With Jaxon.” Her lips parted. “And now the same fucking story?” I scoffed. “Are you really that shameless?” She crawled forward, clutching at my ankle. “You left me! You left me horny and aching and ran off like a trained mutt to your fucking deranged sister!” I flinched—but only for a second. My jaw clenched as I stared down at her. For a split second, the urge to slam her head against the wall was volcanic. White-hot rage surged through my veins. But she wasn’t worth the mess she’d make on my tile floors. “Just get out of my house, Cleo.” My voice was low, even, lethal. “I don’t want to see you. Ever. Again.” She

Damien’s POV The sound of shattering glass brought Olivia’s head snapping toward me. “Damien?” she asked softly. I looked up. Her eyes were wide, pupils flickering across my face like she was trying to read my every micro-expression. Her father straightened in his seat. “Everything alright, son?” I blinked once. Twice. Then I laughed—short, sharp, and brittle. “Yeah,” I said, brushing glass shards off my hand. “Just clumsy fingers. Must be the wine.” “Okay… but who’s getting engaged?” she asked, one brow arched, suspicion flickering in her eyes. I hesitated, scrambling for something that didn’t sound like a lie. “Umm… a friend. Someone I used to know.” Her gaze sharpened. “Do I know them too?” “No.” I shook my head a little too quickly. “Just drop it, Liv. It’s not a big deal. I just… wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Are you sure about that? Because you looked like someone punched you in the gut.” I could still

Damien’s POV The others exhaled together, snickers, laughter, approval laced with malice. “Goddamn,” Dev muttered with a grin. “That’s brutal.” Mateo shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You’re sick.” Jaxon, though, leaned back, grinning like a soldier ready to go to war. “And when you finally take her—what then?” I looked at him. There was no amusement in my eyes now. “I’ll break her so beautifully, she’ll forget her own fucking name. Then I’ll remind her.” Dev raised his glass. “To future weddings.” “To death wishes,” I added, and we clinked tumblers like men toasting to vengeance. A beat passed. Then I looked over at Jaxon again. “What did you do with Cleo?” He shrugged. “Nothing serious.” “Define ‘nothing serious.’” “She was being too fucking loud.” My brow arched. “We just cut off her tongue.” My lips twitched. “Just her tongue?” “Scout’s honor,” he said with a mock-salute. “Didn’t kill her. Yet. We figured she might still be useful.