Kayla's pov “Damien, are you fucking with me?” Harold asks. The man standing in front of me makes my chest tighten. Harold Blackwood. Damien’s grandfather. The man who built Blackwood Industries from the ground up, whose name is whispered in awe and fear across Chicago, whose face I’ve only ever seen on television, now right here, less than ten feet away, and I can’t breathe properly. He looks nothing like the old, frail man I imagined. Sixty-seven years old, but his presence makes age irrelevant. His hair is silver, neatly combed back, and his beard, perfectly trimmed, glints under the penthouse lights. Every feature is sharp, as if sculpted rather than grown, a face that demands respect without asking for it. I can see where Damien gets his looks from. He's what Chelsea would call a ‘Zaddy’. He moves with slow, deliberate elegance. His walking stick rests lightly against the floor. The gold accents catch the light like jewelry, the intricate designs whispering wealth and p
Last Updated : 2025-11-13
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