Damian Wayne Grandfather Novels & Stories

I cleared my throat, "How well do you know Damian?" "Not so much. My grandpa said he'd been in Switzerland for a while and just made mention of him from time to time. Aside from that, I didn't know about him until he arrived here. I just know he's my wealthy uncle that I'm supposed to serve," He air quoted the word. "Who still does that? It's hilarious, honestly." Serve? That was weird, but Damian probably had his reasons for being so far away. "Oh, I see. And your grandpa didn't tell you anything else about him? Anything out of the ordinary or why he was far away for that long?"

It had been more than a dozen hours since he texted her. Claire always answered him immediately. Now, she dared to ignore his messages? His dark expression did not go unnoticed. It even made Serena ask him what was wrong. He shook his head and said nothing. Carefully, he escorted her out of the obstetrics ward, stayed with her through lunch, and made sure she got home safely. Only then did Damian drive back to the company. The moment he stepped through the doors, one of his subordinates hurried over to report to him that his father, Victor Grant, had returned from his world tour. He was calling for all the senior management to meet in the conference hall.

Damien “Better find a wife, Damien. I need a daughter-in-law within the month. I don’t care how you do it. I want a grandchild to brag about to my friends.” My grandfather’s words echoed relentlessly in my mind, even as I tried to push them away. I sighed, running a hand through my hair. What a difficult old man. He was acting as if a wife and child could be procured with a snap of my fingers. My plan had been straightforward: strike a deal with Ezra so his sister would be the one to operate on my grandfather.

"Damien, surely we can discuss this calmly, Vivienne is my daughter too, whatever happened tonight, I am sure it was…" "An accident," Margaret said quickly, finding her footing again now that Howard was in the room to prop the story up beside her. "A misunderstanding between sisters that got out of hand, girls that age fight, and I am sure once everyone has calmed down we can.." "I don't care what it was," Damien said, cutting straight through it. "I care what happens next, and what happens next is very simple." "Damien, be reasonable," my father said, taking one step closer to the bed now, as though proximity to me might somehow lend weight to whatever he was about to say next.

"Vaughn said Cole men don't forgive people who make them look like fools. Is that your grandfather talking, or you?" Damien turned a pen over in his fingers for a long moment. Then he set it down. "My grandfather came home from a war with nothing and a conviction that softness was how men lost everything. My father inherited the company and none of the discipline — he drank, he gambled, he let people close who only wanted what he had. I was twenty-four when he died. I chose the version of myself that meant nobody could get close enough to cost me what he lost." He looked at me. "So. Both, I suppose. Him, through me."

Financial records dating back seven years threaded through with his father's name like a wound that never properly closed. He looked at the photograph on the screen. Gerald Blackwood. Sixty one years old in that picture. Sitting at the desk in his home office, the same desk Damien had done homework at as a child, the same desk he had sat across from his father at for countless Sunday morning conversations about business and integrity and the particular responsibility that came with building something that lasted. His father had believed in those things. Had built his entire life and his entire company around them. Had trusted the wrong man because of them.

"Marcus used that. Got him alone. Made it look like an accident." Rain was quiet. "I'm sorry," she said. Not for her father. He had told her not to apologize for him. For Edmund. For the eighteen- year old who had walked into his first week of work and walked out of it without a father. "I built everything after that on the certainty that I would make it right," Damien said. "Every company acquisition, every alliance, every resource — all of it pointed at one end." He paused. "And then I found you."

No one answered. Because someone had been maintaining the clock. Waiting. For years. Damian walked towards the fireplace. Above it hung an old family portrait. His grandfather. His grandmother. His father. And... A little girl. He froze. "I don't understand." Amara joined him. "Who's she?" Damian shook his head. "There wasn't a daughter." "My father was an only child." Michael stepped closer. His eyes widened. "I know her." Samuel looked at him in surprise.

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…

“That's crazy. How could The Winters belong to you? This company was started by Damian's grandfather. How could it ever belong to you?” "Exactly my reason because Damian’s grandfather was also my grandfather,” he confessed, and I gasped, “Damian's father was also my father!” He revealed, and I didn't have words to respond, that Damian's father was his father. How?