20. Damian
CHAPTER 20
DAMIAN
I know she’s upset before she even says a word.
She’s quiet. Not the comfortable kind. The loaded kind.
The air feels heavier, like we’re both waiting for a match to strike.
I set my phone face-down and lean forward. “You’ve barely looked at me all night.”
Isabelle crosses her arms. “You’ve barely been present all week.”
I inhale sharply. “I’m doing everything I can to keep things from falling apart, Isabelle. I told you what was happening with Veridian Holdings. I’m still here.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Her voice isn’t loud, but it’s cutting and precise. “I’m talking about us and how I feel like I’m back to dating a man who only sees me when I’m convenient.”
“That’s not fair,” I protest. “I’m not hiding away in my office. I’m making an effort?—”
“No?” She laughs, short and sharp. “An effort? When’s the last time you asked about my art? My students? The nonprofit? You’re not even pretending to care anymore, Damian.”
I stand and start to pace. “Don’t turn this into me not caring. You know that’s not true.”
She rises too, but she’s not backing down. “Then show it! Because all I see is you falling back into every habit that tore us apart the first time.”
My jaw tightens. “So now I’m the villain again.”
“You’re the man who’s halfway out the door every time I let my guard down.”
“That’s not what’s happening.”
“Isn’t it?” Her eyes flash. “You think I don’t notice how you check your phone every time I talk about something that isn’t a threat or a deal? How you nod like you’re listening but you’re not actually with me?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m trying to juggle everything, and I’m trying to save something, Isabelle. My company—my life’s work—is under attack.”
“And what am I, then?” Her voice breaks. “Collateral damage?”
That stops me cold. It almost felt better for her to yell at me, but she’s stopped, and now, she’s unraveling.
I step toward her. “That’s not what you are.”
“Then why do I feel like it, Damian? Why does it feel like I only get scraps of you? Why does it feel like I have to compete with the rest of your world just to be seen?”
“I never asked you to compete.”
“No,” she says. “You didn’t have to because you don’t make room for anyone else.”
I exhale hard, fists clenched at my sides. “You have no idea how hard I’m trying to balance all of this.”
“And you have no idea how exhausting it is to beg someone to choose you.”
The room falls quiet outside of our heavy breathing, which is not because of a certain bedroom activity.
Both of us stare at each other across this space that suddenly feels impossible to cross.
Then she whispers, “I don’t want to be another sacrifice on your altar to control, Damian.”
Something inside me fractures. I can’t deny that she has a point, but the thing is, I don’t know how to fix it.
“Isabelle, there’s no way I will ever sacrifice you.”
“Your actions have always spoken louder than words, and maybe I’m being selfish. Maybe I should be more understanding. I know how important your business is to you.” She hangs her head. “I just want to be important to you too.”
“You are!”
“I don’t feel like I am.” She glances toward her door. “I think you should go.”
“I’ll go if you want me to, but I would rather stay.”
“Go to your office.”
“I don’t want to maybe save my business if it means losing you in the process.”
“I know, but maybe… maybe we come from two worlds that are so far apart that we have needs that don’t align at all and…”
“Isabelle, don’t think like that.”
“Too late,” she whispers, and she points to the door.
I want to argue, but I respect her wishes.
I just hope that respect doesn’t cost me her love.
* * *
The office is dark. I haven’t turned the lights on, and I haven’t moved in an hour. All I’ve done is sit behind the desk that used to make me feel untouchable. I used to feel like I was invincible when I would sit here.
This place is back to feeling like a tomb. The world has no idea how deeply I’m cracking beneath the surface.
The fight with Isabelle plays on repeat in my head. Every word. Every look. Every truth I didn’t want to hear but needed to.
She’s never been wrong about me.
I grip the edge of the desk until my knuckles go white.
Control was always my safety net. Structure, routine, walls… If I could outwork the chaos, I didn’t have to feel anything. If I stayed ten steps ahead, I didn’t have to be vulnerable.
Vulnerability meant weakness, and weakness meant loss.
But now I can’t deny the fact that I’m losing everything anyhow.
And not only Isabelle and my company.
Myself too.
The armor didn’t protect me. It just kept me alone.
I sit there in the dark for a long time, feeling everything I’ve buried rise up like a tide I can’t stop. The fear. The shame. The gnawing realization that I have never let anyone help me carry the weight, not even Isabelle.
Maybe that’s why I’ve never been able to keep the people who mattered most.
I grab my phone, scroll past the usual names—advisors, legal counsel, partners—and stop at the only one that feels honest.
Reid Halvorsen.
An old friend. He walked away years ago when I tightened my grip on everything. We haven’t spoken in ages, but he knew me before I put up any walls. Before my empire. Before Isabelle.
I hit call before I can talk myself out of it.
It rings once. Twice.
“Damian?”
I close my eyes. My throat’s tight. “Yeah. It’s me.”
A pause. “Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”
“I didn’t either,” I say, “but I think I need help. Not with the business. Or… not just that.”
Another pause. “Where are you? I’ll come over.”
Something breaks inside me. Not a collapse. A release.
I lean back in the chair, phone to my ear as I give him the address of where we can meet up. When I hang up, I don’t feel like I’m failing because I need someone.
I feel like I might be learning how to finally live.
* * *
Reid meets me at a private lounge on the edge of the city. It’s not my usual place—no exclusivity, no suits, no one here looking to make a deal. Just worn leather chairs, shelves of old books, and jazz humming low through dusty speakers.
He’s already seated when I arrive. Casual button-down. Sleeves rolled. Same easy confidence I remember, untouched by the need to prove anything.
“Didn’t expect your name to flash on my phone,” he says as I sit across from him. “Figured you were too busy building the Great Wall of Kincaid.”
I manage a hollow laugh. “Turns out it wasn’t so great after all.”
He watches me and waits. He’s always been patient. One of his greatest strengths, actually.
I take a sip of whiskey, trying to decide where to begin. Then I set the glass down and say it straight. “I’m losing everything.”
He doesn’t blink. “Tell me.”
I look down at my hands. Now isn’t the time for bullshit or a polished, sanitized version.
“I’ve spent years building something so controlled, so protected… that I forgot how to let anyone in, and now I’m watching it fall apart. My company. My relationship. Me.”
His voice is calm. “And Vincent Grey?”
I stiffen.
Of course he knows. Everyone in our circle does, but Reid worked with me for a time, and he saw more than most, but I don’t know if even he knows the full truth about Vincent.
“He was my friend,” I admit. “We came up in the same circles. Same ambition. Same fire. But where I wanted to build, he wanted to own, and when he realized he couldn’t control me… he turned.”
Reid leans back, hands folded. “And you buried it.”
“Of course I did,” I say bitterly. “I made it fuel. I told myself if I could outwork him, outgrow him, I’d win, and for a long time, that worked. He did his thing, and I did mine, but then he came back around, swooping in… and he got inside my head. Not just professionally. Personally . ”
Reid nods to encourage me to keep going.
“He twisted things around on me, undermined relationships, and made me question people. Myself. And the worst part? I let him. I let him make me cold. I shut people out. Time and again. My business grew successful, and I figured there was no reason to change, but somewhere along the line, I forgot how to let anyone in permanently, and I shut out the one person I…” My voice cracks.
Reid doesn’t interrupt or prompt me.
“I love her,” I say finally, “but I pushed her away. More than once. I was scared. When I started to feel like I could need someone, I panicked.”
“And now?” he asks.
“Now I’d give up the whole damn empire to get her back, and I might lose it because Vincent weakened me enough that Veridian Holdings is trying to erase me now, so it’s not only about her.”
“So what is it about?”
I grit my teeth and drain the rest of my whiskey. “It’s about what I became trying to win a game I never needed to play.” I meet his eyes. “For the first time in my life, I don’t want to win. I want to heal, and I don’t know how.”
Reid leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You just did the hardest part,” he says. “You told someone and admit out loud not just to me but to yourself what your issues are.”
I exhale a deep, shaking breath.
“You want to dismantle those walls? You don’t need to bulldoze them all at once. Just open the door. Start there.”
“I don’t know how,” I admit.
“That’s not going to be easy, no, but…”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Might mean talking to someone.”
“I am right now.”
“I mean a licensed someone. A therapist.”
“I don’t?—”
He lifts his eyebrows.
“If I can’t manage… maybe I will,” I concede. “One last try, though.”
“Being afraid of losing yourself isn’t a small thing, Damian.”
“I know. Trust me, I know.”
* * *
Early the next morning, the conference room smells like tension.
Sweat, coffee, and stale cologne from investors who’ve been here too long trying to decide whether to believe in me or bail before the ship tips. The Veridian Holdings news has rattled them more than they’ll admit.
They don’t care how long I’ve been running this empire. They care about next quarter, and right now, next quarter looks like blood in the water.
Clara sits across from me, jaw tight. My lead counsel’s to my left, flipping through printouts as if the numbers will magically rearrange into good news.
And then Naomi walks in. She’s late. Her hair is pulled back in a sleek twist, and her heels tap out a rhythm of unapologetic confidence. She doesn’t apologize for her timing.
She sets her folder on the table and opens her laptop in one motion. “Gentlemen. Ladies. You’ve seen the risk. Now let me show you the strategy.”
I lean back slightly, folding my arms. I won’t dismiss her yet, but I might, depending on how she handles the moment.
Naomi clicks the remote, and a clean slide appears. Repositioning Kincaid Global Through Strategic Licensing.
She looks up. “Veridian Holdings thinks we’ll try to hunker down and pull in the sails, but that’s not how you win a siege. You widen the battlefield.”
The room shifts. Interest perks.
She moves through the pitch with surgical precision. “Kincaid has exclusive distribution rights to media analytics software in the North American market, but we haven’t touched South Asia. Not because we can’t but because we haven’t needed to. Until now.” She gestures to the screen. “I’ve already opened a conversation with WairuTech in Singapore. If we license the analytics tool to them, we undercut Veridian Holdings’ position in emerging markets and create a perception of expansion, not contraction.”
One of the investors frowns. “Won’t that dilute Kincaid’s control?”
Naomi smiles. “Not if you structure the contract right. Which I’ve already outlined.” She turns the page in her folder and slides copies across the table. “Revenue projections, IP protection clauses, and a cross-licensing clause that keeps everything under Damian’s name.”
That gets them. I see it in their eyes. Not just interest. Relief.
I look at Naomi. She meets my gaze with zero self-congratulation. Just quiet certainty. She knows she delivered.
After the meeting, the investors file out, several of them nodding at me like I’ve suddenly remembered how to be a king.
Clara lingers, eyebrows raised.
Naomi closes her laptop and slides it into her bag.
“WairuTech?” I ask, walking over to her. “That deal was vapor two weeks ago.”
“I don’t believe in vapor,” she says simply. “Only ignition points.”
I stare at her for a moment. Then I nod once. “Well done.”
“Thank you.” She gives me a sharp smile. “Just let me know where the next fire is.”
She walks out.
Hmm. She’s controlled, capable, brilliant. Exactly the kind of person you build empires with.
And maybe exactly the kind of person who knows how to bring one down.