27. Damian
CHAPTER 27
DAMIAN
D amn it all to hell, the numbers are unequivocally terminal.
Clara’s voice is low, steady, but the words still hit like gunfire. “If you go after the WairuTech recovery package, you can stabilize the east division… and keep the doors open for another quarter.”
“And the cost?” I ask, though I already know.
She hesitates. “You’d have to agree to Vincent’s terms. Consolidation. Give up the independent stake in the licensing division. The creative arm would be folded into Veridian Holdings.”
Which means Isabelle’s work—her influence, her vision—it gets buried.
Everything we were starting to build together would vanish under his name.
Vincent wins.
I sit back in my chair, the weight of it all pressing down like a vice around my ribs.
Save the company or protect the one person who makes any of it worth saving.
Clara watches me. “You’ve always made the hard calls, Damian.”
I nod. She’s right. I have.
But this isn’t about hard.
It’s about right.
I stand slowly, buttoning my jacket like it still matters, but I’m not walking back into the boardroom. I’m walking out.
“Where are you going?” Clara asks, though I think she already knows.
“To do the thing I should’ve done the first time I had the chance,” I say.
And then I leave, walking past the conference room, past the lawyers, past the legacy I bled for.
* * *
I find Isabelle at her gallery.
She’s rearranging pieces for the spring showcase, her back to the door. There’s paint on her hands, a smudge on her cheek, and she’s never looked more like home.
She hears the door but doesn’t turn.
“I’m closed today,” she says softly.
“I know.”
She turns slowly, and her breath catches.
I step closer, hands loose at my sides. “I chose you,” I say.
No preamble. No defenses. Just the truth.
“I walked away from the deal. From everything Vincent offered. I let it burn.”
Her eyes widen, full of emotion. “Damian…”
“I couldn’t save both,” I tell her, “and in the end, there was nothing left worth saving but you.”
Silence stretches between us.
And then, she crosses the room, fast and fierce, and wraps her arms around me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear.
I hold her tighter than I ever have. “I don’t know what happens next,” I whisper into her hair, “but I’m ready to build it from the ground up. With you.”
She pulls back just enough to look into my eyes. “That’s all I ever wanted,” she says.
Not an empire.
Not perfection.
Just us.
I finally understand that’s more than enough.