Damian Wayne Ethnicity Novels & Stories

"Evening, as some of you know and some of you don't, my name is Damien. I'm twenty-seven years old and I am the owner of this place." Raven's mouth dropped, what? How was he so successful at such a young age. Raven lightly poked the girl next to her so that she could get her attention. "What does he do for a living?" she whispered. "He is the CEO of Luxshmier. Don't you know them? They are very popular and that's where he gets his wealth from." "Did he star......." Before Raven could finish her sentence, she was cut off: "Can you speak when it's your turn to make an introduction." said Damien.

He was really charming, I thought to myself. Once we sat down, I asked them about their backgrounds, their jobs, etc. Just the usual topics you asked when you first met someone new. Damian was Chinese-Indonesian, just like me, but grew up in the US. Every year he’d come to Jakarta, Indonesia, to have a long holiday. He was able to speak Bahasa Indonesia, although not so fluent, not as fluent as when he was speaking English. His parents owned a few private villas in Bali that they remodeled to be hotels. Damian himself did not really have any job. He just helped his parents to manage their hotels, and he was into investing and trading in the stock markets.

Elena’s hand tightened around Ethan’s until he caught and returned the pressure. “W.K.?” Ethan’s whisper barely moved air. Jackson’s face was dragged into a lean seriousness. He shut his mouth for a moment and then said, carefully: “W.K. — William Kingstone. Damian’s father.” The name landed in the room like a dropped plate. Elena’s stomach dropped to somewhere felt as if it belonged to a different person. The old life, the accident, the nights of hospital fluorescence—everything moved in a loop, and now more than ever the loops overlapped.

DAMIEN I had noticed her the moment she was dragged into the throne room. Even in chains, the daughter of a criminal, Rosalia Muller commanded attention—not with the practiced grace of our court ladies, but with something far more intriguing. Her dark red hair caught the light filtering through the stained glass, creating a halo of crimson around her face. There was a wild beauty in her desperation, in the way she held herself despite everything crumbling around her.

He stood tall, with a lean but muscular build that spoke of confidence and power. His chiseled jawline, brown hair, and intense brown eyes were striking enough to make anyone look twice. And judging by the way Amelia was looking at him, she wasn’t immune to his appeal either. “That’s Damian,” Amelia said softly, her voice filled with a mix of awe and caution. “Dominique’s older brother. The second son of the Blackwoods.” I stared at him, trying to reconcile the image in front of me with the warnings I had been given. Damian was notoriously known as a womanizer, a predator in his own right, who treated women as nothing more than objects for his amusement.

The journey went on with no hassle on deck and perfect weather conditions where he was dropped off at London, where he spent many years of his life as the British pioneer John Wilson moving from place to place changing his name and identity as he moved for fear of being noticed as someone different, for the main reason being he couldn't age. As the years passed Damian built wealth upon wealth seeing revolutions, wars of great proportions and the world expanding and by 1876 he moved to the United States of America under the identity of Damian Lewis Jackson in the state of New York. Damian started small in the states with money he got from his numerous businesses in Europe investment in things

It was my choice to be his slave and I couldn't go back on my words even if I wanted to. Went straight to my desk and decided to do a little research on Damian… There has to be something about his parents on the internet.. After typing for a few minutes I finally found a few interesting things about Damian.. There was so much about his success in dominating the business world but there was little on his family history.. There was nothing about his parents, not even a picture and it turns out Grandma Vanessa and Grandpa Narciso are actually his maternal grandparents.. Apparently there's nothing on his other grandparents and his family too.. it's more like they never existed…

from Damien? A scowl twisted my lips as I thought of the man that had stolen Vivian's heart. Damien was dangerous, no doubt about that. But Vivian didn’t know that. She didn’t know the world she was involved in, didn’t know the kind of person she was surrounded by. **Damien Sullivan was a part of the Cosa Nostra**, and that meant he was a part of something far darker than she could imagine.

He paused, then added, “We need to talk.” Ethan raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. He waited. Damien stepped away from the window and leaned back against the counter. His posture was casual, but his eyes were sharp. “Look,” he started, voice low and steady. “Just because we’re half-brothers doesn’t mean we have to be enemies. I know things between us have never been… good. Our father made sure of that. But we’re on the same side here, whether we like it or not.”

Damian said after he was also done dressing. He was dressed in sweatpants and a simple white t-shirt. He still managed to look hot in just simple wear, he held out his hand which I took. Damian is very charming and romantic, that's how it makes him the perfect serial killer. He can pick any girl of the street with ease and because the girls are willing no one will suspect anything.