Semua Bab Accidental Vows:The Billionaire's Perfect Mistake: Bab 11 - Bab 19

The penthouse was a problem.I had been prepared, on the drive in from Teterboro, for something flashy. Something cold and steel and obvious. Something that screamed fourteenbilliondollar net worth in the way Tristan's apartment had screamed sixfigure salary, please notice — chrome fixtures, leather everything, a bar cart that nobody ever used.Damien's penthouse was none of those things.Damien's penthouse was beautiful.It occupied the entire top floor of a prewar building on the Upper East Side, and the elevator opened directly into the foyer — no hallway, no door, just a quiet ding and then the rest of my life laid out in front of me. Pale wood floors. Tall windows. Soft, pooling lamplight. A wall of bookshelves on the right that climbed all the way to the ceiling. A grand piano on the left, covered in a heavy black cloth, sitting in the corner like a sleeping animal nobody was supposed to wake.There were no cameras blinking. There were no televisions playing. There was, somewher

We did not speak on the drive home.Greg drove slow through the rain, the wipers slapping a steady rhythm against the windshield. The city blurred past outside, streaks of red and gold and white. Damien did not let go of my hand. Not once. For twenty two minutes all the way back to the Upper East Side he just sat there in the dark, his fingers laced through mine, and said nothing at all.It was not an awkward silence. It was not a heavy silence. It was the quiet of two people who had just spent three years pretending to be other people, and had finally stopped. I did not spend the whole drive waiting for him to say something stupid. I did not spend it waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the first time in my entire life I just sat there. And I breathed.I did not even realize I was doing it until we pulled up to the front door of the building. I looked down at our hands, still linked together on the leather seat between us, and realized I had not thought about Tristan once in the e

For a very long time no one said anything.The rain tapped against the window. The clock ticked. The phone lay face up on the table between us, the photo glowing faint blue in the dark kitchen. Somewhere far away a siren wailed down Fifth Avenue, and faded away.I did not scream. I did not yell. I just sat very still. For a stupid second I almost wished it was Tristan. I almost wished it was something simple and stupid and easy to fight. This was worse. This was someone who knew exactly where to hurt you. This was someone who would watch you eat dinner for three days before they sent you the photo."You knew." I said finally.My voice was so quiet I almost did not hear it myself.Damien nodded."Three days." he said. "Seven photos. One every morning. One every evening. I had security sweeping the street. They never found her.""You did not tell me.""I thought I could fix it." he said. "I thought I could stop it before you ever had to know. Before it ever touched you."I stared at him

For ten full seconds no one breathed.Damien put his phone down on the table very slowly. The screen went dark. The clock ticked once. Somewhere down the street a car horn honked.And then the whole world exploded.His phone buzzed once. Then ten times. Then it just sat there vibrating continuously, a low angry hum against the wood. Then mine. Then Julian's. Then every single phone in the room all at the same time.Greg was the first one to look.He blinked.He laughed."One hundred thousand likes." he said. "In ninety seconds."Julian lunged across the table and grabbed Damien's phone. He stared at the screen. His mouth fell open."Oh my God." he said. "Oh my God. You absolute maniac. You have destroyed us. You have destroyed the entire company. We are all going to be living in a cardboard box by next week."Greg opened the fridge and pulled out a six pack of beer."Popcorn." he said.

Thirty one minutes until midnight.Damien's thumb hovered one millimetre above the screen. No one breathed. The clock ticked once. Then again. You could have heard a pin drop. You could have heard a heartbeat.Julian had his face in his hands. Greg was leaning against the fridge, completely still. Mrs Hartwell was nodding very slowly, like she had known this would happen from the very first day Damien had come home from Las Vegas."You do not have to do this." I said quietly.Damien did not look away from me."Yes I do." he said. "I spent thirty years doing everything everyone else wanted me to do. I spent thirty years making the smart choice. The safe choice. I am tired of making the smart choice."He paused."And I would rather burn the whole thing to the ground than ever let that woman tell me who I am allowed to marry."He hit post.And then nothing happened.No explosion. No thunder. No angels singing or demons screaming. The phone made one tiny quiet click and then went dark. Th