Novel & Cerita Damon Salvatore

No interviews, photographs or personal details. Another article mentioned how he loved his private life, with only a few of his business associates knowing anything about him. The guy was loaded, but something about him was off. I scrolled further. A news article popped up, and a photograph of Damien and me from earlier today filled my screen. Real Face of Salvatore Russo Spotted With His Newly Wedded Wife, Skylar Morrison. “Welcome home, Sky.” Damien's eyes met mine as he drove through the open gate and brought the car to a halt.

The reflection of the restaurant flickers over the windowpane, blending strangers and headlights into a moving blur. I open the folder again, because of course I do. Some part of me can’t stop. Damon Vale stares back at me from a glossy phototaken at a conference, suit immaculate, expression unreadable. He looks like a man who never loses control of anything. Not his company. Not his secrets. I trace the line of his jaw with my eyes, studying every detail. He’s the kind of man people underestimate until it’s too late. The kind who makes enemies quietly and buries them just as silently.

Instead, he went back to running, leaving everyone astonished. That's because Damien's power is to endure pain. So it's no wonder why he was still alive when he was thrown into the sea and could instantly run after being hit by a car. He didn't feel any pain. That was another reason why Sam hid him. Aside from the fear of his psychopathic soul returning at any time, Sam was also worried that Damien would endanger himself because even if he got hurt, he wouldn't realize it because he couldn't feel pain. His ability, although extraordinary, was also very dangerous because he might not suffer from the pain but if he bled, he might die from blood loss. So that's why Sam is very strict with Damie

The driver’s door opened. A tall, powerful figure stepped out, framed by the headlights like a silhouette carved from shadow and authority. When he spoke, his deep, steady voice carried a mix of urgency and something she had never heard from him before—concern. “Mrs. Salvatore?” Elena’s breath caught in her throat. She blinked hard, barely believing her eyes. Standing before her was Sir Donald Salvatore—Damien’s uncle, the youngest brother of Damien’s late father, and the man who ruled the southern branch of the Salvatore empire with absolute dominance.

“Do not play games with me. You will give me answers. Or your empire burns—from north to south. Forty-eight hours. You get her name cleared, or I destroy everything you have ever built.” A small laugh escaped him. “Forty-eight hours?” “Yes. Forty-eight hours,” I repeated. My men shifted, silent and ready. The room felt alive, like a beast waiting to pounce. Salvatore’s smirk widened. Then he said something that froze the blood in my veins. “Do you remember the Domingos?” I blinked. The name was like a bomb detonating in my mind. “What do you mean?” I asked cautiously. “They returned,” Salvatore said smoothly. “Empowered, funded, and seeking revenge. I aligned with them.”

“You’ve watched too many k dramas. I’m not ruining my jacket for this.” My frustration snapped. The old man’s words kept ringing in my head. “At least use the jacket as an umbrella!” “For what, so I can catch a cold myself?” His tone was pure disdain. “I’m Damian Salvatore. You can’t let an important person like me fall sick.” “Damian,” I yelled. With a sigh that sounded like I’d just asked him to donate a kidney, he slipped off his jacket and shoved it into my hands. “Fine. But if I catch a cold, it’s on you.”

We waited by a rusted crane, the sea choppy and black behind us. Exactly on time, a black sedan arrived. Damon Salvatore stepped out, accompanied not by a low-ranking mercenary, but by his most trusted, brutally efficient Sicilian lieutenant, Marco. Damon looked impeccably dressed, but the sweat on his brow betrayed his desperation. He was walking into this exchange because his financial situation demanded it. “Vladimir,” Damon said, his voice carrying the false warmth of a man who believed he held the upper hand. “How tragic that we meet again under such trying circumstances. My deepest condolences on the… setbacks you’ve experienced.”

Then Damon stepped forward, jaw clenched, eyes sharp as knives. “I’m guessing this is all about money, right?” he said. “So talk business. Tell me what you want—then release Sadie and Daven.” “Only Sadie and Daven?” the man asked, raising a brow. “What about your father? Your ex-wife? This friend of yours?” Damon let out a short, humorless scoff. “You’re my father’s trusted man, aren’t you? Silas Aldo.” His tone sharpened, like he was pulling back flesh to reveal the truth underneath.

“What the fuck do you mean, Salvatore?” “Tell him, Luciano!” he yelled. “Tell him!” I slid my gaze to Luciano, who sighed deeply, rubbing his fingers through his hair. “Tell me what?” I asked quietly, remaining very patient and reserved despite how I felt. “Damon…” he started, his voice trailing off. “Talk to me,” I urged. “It seems like whoever’s doing all this has a very personal problem with you.” I paused, the alarm bells going off in my head at his words.

“Paperwork’s been prepped and signed for weeks. I figured you’d try to sink the ship, what you didn’t expect is that I rebuilt the entire foundation with someone far more competent by my side. As you might know, the last thing that I would want is to find myself lead into something that I do not want to cope with. And mind you, there are closures that you're going to need to pay. If you think that we are going to end this with me being financially affected, then you are very wrong. Your lawyers should explain this to you. Mine will attend the meeting as well. Things will be settled. If you want us to be there to sign papers, we are more than welcome. Otherwise we have other things to take ca