CHAPTER 38
Damien’s POV
“You don’t get to care now.”
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Her painful words cut deeper than I expected. Her quiet voice–with that tone of finality–played over and over in my mind.
I sat heavily on the hallway bench just outside the restroom. My heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she left, but now it felt like it had finally cracked wide open.
“I loved you. God help me, I did. And you made me regret every second of it,” she had uttered so coldly.
I’d never been the kind of man who let emotion control me. Not in boardrooms. Not in public. Not even in private. But right now?
I felt like someone had hollowed me out from the inside.
My mind kept going back to that night when she’d called me from the asylum. Her voice, frantic on the other end of the line, and
me… shutting it off. Shutting her off.
I thought she was trying to manipulate me. Just throwing another tantrum.
But she wasn’t.
What did I miss? What really happened to her there?
I sighed, the massive burden and pain of all my mistakes suddenly crashing down on me. I should have listened to her.
And now it was too late. She didn’t want to talk anymore. She didn’t even want an apology.
Some part of me still wanted to fight, though. Not for redemption or appearances. But because I knew now, with soul–deep certainty–I didn’t just lose her.
I had destroyed whatever was left.
It’s hard to accept that she can be this cruel and cold to me. Worse, she obviously doesn’t give a damn anymore.
I had no idea how long I stayed like that there. But eventually, I forced myself to get up, dragged my feet to my car, and continued to wallow in misery inside the confined space where no one could see me.
After a while, I took a deep breath.
The ache in my chest hadn’t lessened, but I needed to move–needed to do something other than sit here and rot in regret. I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant Mark.
“Sir?”
“I want everything on Eleanor Monroe’s hospitalization,” I said. “From the fire at the orphanage to the first ER visit. Find out
everything you can.”
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“Yes, sir. We’ll cross–reference all facility logs and contact the specialists. Actually, we just got in touch with Dr. Reyes as you had instructed earlier–she’s one of the top pulmonary trauma consultants, She’s reviewing the records now.”
“Good. I want answers. Fast”
A pause. Then the agent cleared his throat. “Sir… I know it’s not my place, but… you do remember that it was Miss Genevieve who said that the fire had occurred somewhere else, not at their orphanage? This is why we did not look into it anymore.”
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“I remember,” I said, each word sharp with restrained fury. “All too well.”
Just then, my phone buzzed again. I didn’t know how to react when I saw that it was actually Genevieve.
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“Damien,” she pouted, her voice light and sweet. “You disappeared. I looked everywhere for you. You didn’t even bother replying to my message. Don’t tell me you left without saying goodbye.”
I didn’t have the energy to match her tone. “I needed air.”
“You mean, you needed to escape that little show Celeste put on?” she added, with a laugh that grated against my last nerve. “Honestly, the nerve of that woman–parading around like she’s some tragic heroine
“I’m c
coming over,” I cut in, voice flat.
“Oh. Okay.” Surprise bled into her voice. “Is everything alright?”
“I just have a few questions.”
I hung up without waiting for her reply, shoved the key in the ignition, and drove off into the night.
Genevieve’s apartment was nothing short of opulence–every inch dripping in designer polish and curated extravagance. Her family had gifted it to her after she reconnected with her biological parents.
She greeted me at the door in silk loungewear, her hair styled perfectly despite the hour.
“Damien,” she cooed, stepping forward. “You didn’t have to rush-”
“Why did you lie to me?”
Her expression froze mid–step. “Wh… what?”
“Back then. When we saw that fire in the news, you said it wasn’t at the orphanage where you and Celeste grew up. But your Auntie Eleanor was severely injured in the fire, along with other
I stared at her.
Genevieve’s eyes widened, her lips parting. “But.. How? What do you mean-?”
“I saw her myself,” I said tightly. “At the hospital tonight. ICU. Hooked up to machines because of damage from smoke Inhalation.”
Genevieve blinked, then stepped back as if the air had turned acidic. “Damien, 1-”
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“Don’t lie to me again.”
The words came out sharper than I intended, but I didn’t take them back.
She swallowed, hard. Her gaze darted past me–looking for an escape that wasn’t there. And then, without warning, tears welled in her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to lie,” she whispered, her voice trembling “I didn’t know how else to tell you…!
“Tell me what?” I demanded.
“Your mother–she was the one who told me to keep quiet,” she revealed as she stared straight into my eyes.
My jaw tensed. “What?”
“She said it wasn’t worth your attention,” Genevieve continued, the tears spilling freely now. “That you were too busy. That Celeste’s people weren’t… weren’t our kind. That it would be better for everyone if we let it go and didn’t get involved in any way.”
I stared at her, and every word dragged up memories I had tried to suppress–because deep down, I’d always known my mother was capable of this.
“She hated Celeste,” Genevieve said softly. “You know she did. And she hated anyone associated with her, She thought they were trying to drag you down.”
I said nothing. Part of me already knew that. My mother never even tried to pretend otherwise.
But hearing it confirmed like this–so clearly, so disgustingly–it still scraped against something raw in me.
Genevieve stepped closer, “I was scared. I didn’t want to lose your mother’s favor. I didn’t want to cause tension. I-”
I sighed, momentarily stunned and disoriented. The truth tasted bitter in my mouth, and I wasn’t even sure if what I was being fed now was the whole of it–or just another carefully crafted half–lie.
Genevieve, sensing the shift, moved in closer. “Damien, I didn’t have a choice. I know I should’ve said something. But your mother–she threatened to cut ties with me if I disobeyed. She even said she’d ruin my family’s name If I went against her.”
I said nothing.
“And the rumors about Celeste lately?” she added quickly, like she’d been waiting for the moment to pivot. “Those too–your mother’s people did that. She said it would be better if Celeste stayed quiet, stayed irrelevant. She didn’t want her coming back into your life.”
She was trying to distance herself from all of it. Throwing my mother under the bus now that the walls were closing in.
And maybe some of it was true.
But what I saw tonight–Genevieve’s sharp words, her disdain for Celeste, the glee she couldn’t quite mask when she thought she had won–it didn’t fit the helpless little narrative she was spinning now.
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I didn’t have proof. But I had clarity.
I had no idea who Genevieve truly was anymore, but I knew one thing for certain–I couldn’t trust her.
“You’ve reunited with your real family now,” I said, my voice low. “And they’re waiting for you. You should go. Join them.
Her face paled. “What?”
“I think it’s time you left,” I said simply. “You’ve done enough here.”
The mask cracked, just slightly. “You’re sending me away?”
“I’m asking you to step out of my life, stay out of my affairs. That’s not the same thing. But if it makes you feel better, think of it however you want.”
Genevieve’s lips parted in disbelief, but I didn’t wait for her to argue. I turned and left, shutting the door behind me without another word.
I didn’t trust myself to stay longer.
Not when the only person I wanted to see was the one who had lo
one who had looked me dead in the eye tonight and said: You don’t get to care
now.
I drove in silence going home. And when I finally parked outside of my house, I didn’t move at once. I just sat there, thinking of
her.
My ex–wife. Celeste.
I thought of how she’d looked tonight–fierce, untouchable, burning with strength and pain all at once.
Of how I had once been the one person who was supposed to protect her… and how I’d done the exact opposite.
