Damian Wayne Birthday Novels & Stories

The director said loud enough for everyone to hear. Interviewer: Good morning Cabin city!. It is another morning to chase opportunities and work towards our individual goals. It is a motivational morning Cabin, and we have one of the best motivational figures here with us this morning. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Damien Wayne. Good morning again sir, It is such a pleasure to have you here. I must say that your presence here has motivated me already. (we laughed). Me: That's allowed! Good morning Miss Jes. Good morning Cabin city. Interviewer: Before we begin sir, I, I mean, we all in Cabin would love to get a motivational headsup to start our day.

Aria told Damien this at the kitchen table that evening. Damien listened and then said, with the careful expression of a man who is very proud of his son and is trying not to let it become either excessive or embarrassing: He reorganised the activities. He did, she confirmed. And resolved a dispute. He is five years old, Damien said. He is almost five, she said. His birthday is in six weeks. Damien was quiet for a moment. He reorganised the birthday party activities of a child he has known for five months, he said, apparently still processing this.

“But you’re still an arrogant bastard.” He laughed darkly, eyes full of filthy promise. “And you’re my addicted little slut. Get ready, baby. This is only the beginning.” One week later, the board meeting had been a bloodbath. Damon stormed out of the conference room. His jaw was locked tight, his suit still perfect, but everyone could feel the danger rolling off him. He didn’t say a word to anyone except one short text to Elena. Damon: My main penthouse. Now. Urgent work. Don’t make me wait.

"It's just that I feel like I don't know anything about you. I'm your friend, right? I don't even know what you did abroad. What your job is. You never talk to me about yourself." "Are you interested in me?" Damian asked. I knew he was just teasing me. And my sharp gaze made him understand. He chuckled and apologized. "Where to start? Um... Let's start our introduction from the beginning. My name is Damian Blackwood, I'm 29 years old. My job includes lyricist, composer, music producer. People know me more as Whitehollow than as Damian. You can type that name into a search engine and you'll find out more. Then... I came home for a vacation, but my grandfather gave me a task of making a demo s

“But then, you and Damien didn’t even date so how’d do I expect you to know what’s a relationship is. You’re just a teenager.” Was he really pulling the teenager card? Her birthday was soon, very soon. But that would barely change a thing. Arya didn’t think she was young for anything, at least not young enough to make big things happen. Damien had taken over the company when he was in his mid teens. And he shouldn’t forget it was that teenager his best friend married. If being a teenager was that bad then Damien shouldn’t have married her. “You are just talking a lot of nonsense at the same time. Honestly, my head can’t keep up with the gibberish.” Arya sighed, looking away from him.

Because no one ever did that for her. During the last years, Damian and his mother were always the only ones who remembered her birthday. They would buy her a gift and invite her to dinner. Her parents never wished her a happy birthday nor organised a party for her. The only thing that mattered to them was school and grades– the boring side of life.

He spoke making me perplexed. Damien smiled at my confused face back and took out a box from his breast pocket. It was wrapped with red velvet paper. He then extended it to me. I gazed at it with suspicion. “Happy birthday, Emmaline.” His words rendered me speechless. Today is my eighteenth birthday. That’s why Damien chose this date to bring me to Xander. Dread clouded my system as I pressed myself more on the iron rails while Damien kept smirking, relishing my fear.

"There’s a dress I saw today during my outing but forgot to get it, and I think it would be perfect for my birthday tomorrow. I’ll send you the address. Could you help me get it?" Damien said nothing as the car he’d book packed in front of him. He got in then leaned back against the leather seat. "I believe I already told you I’ll be busy and can’t attend to any of your demands." He said slowly as if counting his words. "Damien…" Alondra whispered again, this time in frustration like she was trying to remind him she was important. But he cut her off, voice hard. "Tomorrow. Birthday time. As usual...9 p.m."

He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. The room felt suddenly smaller. “I didn’t know,” he said. “Know what?” “That it was your birthday.” She shrugged. “It’s okay.” “No,” he said firmly. “It’s not.” She studied him, confused. “Damian” “I don’t forget dates,” he continued. “I remember contracts, Deadlines, Acquisitions, I remember things that matter.” The implication settled heavily between them. He extended his hand. “I don’t celebrate,” he said. “But I remember.”

May 2005. Then the third. May 2005. Another one. May 2005. Every mention of Phoenix Empire, Damian, and the orphanage clustered around the same time period like they belonged to a single event. A single trigger. My jaw tightened. My father, Phoenix Empire and Damian all shared the same date. May 2005. I could feel the shape of something trying to emerge, but it was still hidden under too much dirt. The dots were there. I could see them. I just couldn’t connect them cleanly yet.