The rain hadn’t stopped. It tapped gently on the windows like a lullaby that never ended. Chloe blinked awake, still wrapped in her robe, the soft cotton sticking slightly to her skin from where her damp hair had soaked into the fabric during the night. The room was dim, lit only by the grey morning light that crept through half-closed curtains. Her eyes drifted to the nightstand. Her phone lay there, the memory of Sienna’s message creeping in. It was just a line but it was just enough to pull her out of whatever fragile place Damien had coaxed her into. Chloe exhaled, pushing the thought away like she had all night. Not now. Not yet. Because Damien was still there. Slouched in the armchair by the fireplace, his long frame folded into something almost boyish in sleep. One arm hung over the side, fingers twitching faintly like he was still fighting something in a dream. His wet clothes were gone—his jacket hung on the back of a chair, his shirt wrinkled on the floor ne
Sienna knocked on the white oak door in front of her. She stood tall on the familiar porch she walked away from years ago.She remembered the memories she had on that porch.The flowers she and Chloe used to decorate the doors. The muddy puddles they splashed in splattered on the walls.But her thoughts were interrupted by the subtle creaking of the door opening. She looked up to see the face of the woman she hadn’t seen in years.She had aged well but her grace hadn’t faded one bit.Miranda Bennett stared at her daughter like she had seen a ghost.“Sienna,” she said shortly—almost a whisper.Sienna nodded her head in confirmation. “Mom.”A moment of silence settled between the two women. Sienna gripped the strap of her purse tightly as if this could make the situation any less real.“Come in sweetheart.” Miranda gestured into her home.Sienna stepped in carefully. Every move was slow and calculated.Her eyes scanned the living room. “I see you did some renovating.” She said, runnin
The air around Damien and Chloe stilled for a moment. He rubbed his fingers on his chin as he spoke through the tension in the room.“There’s something you need to know,” He muttered.Chloe’s hands dropped from where they’d been folded across her chest. Her eyes didn’t narrow. Her jaw didn’t tense. She just nodded once, quiet and open.“Okay,” she said softly. “Tell me.”Damien opened his mouth. The words hovered on the edge of his breath, heavy and bitter, ready to bleed out.But before he could say a word his thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the doorbell.The sound snapped between them like a crack in the air.Chloe flinched slightly, then looked toward the door. “Hold that thought,” she murmured, already moving.Damien stayed frozen for a beat, hands still curled at his sides. His heart pounded—not from nerves, but from the universe’s timing. He exhaled slowly, trying to shake it off, and turned just in time to catch the soft glow of her phone lighting up on the table.Ther
Chloe Bennett tasted betrayal on her tongue. It wasn’t the tequila. No. It wasn’t the burn of the liquor sliding down her throat. That would have been much easier to handle. It was the sight of them—her sister, her ex—wrapped in each other’s arms like she had never existed. She felt her chest tighten as she wallowed in self pity. The club pulsed around her, but she didn’t hear the music. All she heard was the echo of his words, the ones that shattered her into nothing. Stabbing her like a blunt pocket knife twisting deeper into her back. “It was always her, Chloe.” She had replayed those words over and over again, her mind desperately trying to find some loophole in their meaning. Some ridiculous way to make them mean anything but what they did. But no, the truth was there, raw and unyielding. She should have known, the late-night calls he ignored, the way his gaze lingered a second too long whenever her sister entered the room. The tightness in his voice when he swore
Chloe Bennett couldn’t believe her ears. For a moment, everything went dark and hazy, as if she were trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t wake from. She shook her head, desperate to shake off the wave of hurt coursing through her. “What are you saying, Ryan? I… I don’t understand,” she stutters, fighting back the warm tears already gliding down her cheeks. She stands frozen in the living room, her heart hammering against her ribs as the harsh reality of Ryan’s betrayal hit her like a tidal wave. His words echo through her mind, each syllable cutting deeper than the last. Her breath grows unsteady. The room seems smaller, suffocating. Across from her, Ryan her boyfriend and Sienna her older sister sit side by side on the sofa, their hands intertwined. Their closeness was a cruel confirmation of what she had just heard—what she had lost. Chloe’s stomach twists violently. She clenches her fists while trying to control her breath. “I asked you a question,” she says, her voice barely
The bar was crowded, the low hum of conversations blending with the soft clinking of glasses. He sat in his usual corner, swirling the liquid in his glass. He wasn’t here to drink, not really. He was here out of habit, a way to pass the time. And then he saw her. She walked in like she had no real destination—like the world had just thrown her out and she hadn’t decided where to land. Her steps were slow, hesitant, and yet there was a fire in her eyes, a storm she was trying to conceal. She took a seat at the bar, ordered a drink, and wrapped her fingers around the glass like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. He watched as she brought it to her lips, taking a slow sip, her shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. Something about her caught his attention, though he wasn’t sure what. Maybe it was the way she gripped the drink like she was trying to draw strength from it. Or the way her gaze occasionally flickered to her reflection in the mirror behind the bar,
Chloe woke up, her head pounding like a bass drum as she slowly opened her eyes. Her mouth felt dry and her eyelids were very heavy. "Shit" she whispered trying to recall events of the night before, but everything still seemed like a blurred out memory. Chloe inhaled deeply thinking it was for the best.As she twisted under the covers, her body opposed each movement. The sheets were luxurious, far too nice compared to the night she vaguely remembered. She sat up, holding the sheet to her chest as she buried her face in it and her heart began to race. What was she doing? this wasn't her bed, this wasn't her room and the faint scent of cologne on the pillows made her very much aware that she hadn't been alone all night."What have you done Chloe?" she muttered. Losing her balance as she sat up too quickly, the hangover punishing her for it. Her dress - where was her dress?. She scanned the room, spotting her stillettos discarded near the door, her black silk dress draping over an armch
“Oh shit, oh shit” Chloe muttered under her breath, her steps unbalanced as she pushed open the gate of Damien’s penthouse. Last night was a mistake. Just a stupid impulsive mistake. She needed to get home. Needed to forget about what just happened. Needed to forget about him. But how could she? His voice? His touch? His scent? She could still feel him. Chloe shrugged, she shouldn’t be thinking about him. Her phone buzzed before she could gather her thoughts. She searched through her purse, cursing when she saw her sister’s name flashing. Sienna. Chloe let out a frustrated sigh. She didn’t want to hear her sister’s voice. She didn’t want to talk to her, but against her better judgment, she answered. “What?” She snapped. “Where are you?” Sienna’s voice was maddeningly composed. “You know you’re supposed to be here by now.” Chloe frowned. Her mind is still sluggish from the alcohol and exhaustion. “Here? Where’s here?” Sienna sighed. “At Dad’s Chloe. The meeting? You’re s
The air around Damien and Chloe stilled for a moment. He rubbed his fingers on his chin as he spoke through the tension in the room.“There’s something you need to know,” He muttered.Chloe’s hands dropped from where they’d been folded across her chest. Her eyes didn’t narrow. Her jaw didn’t tense. She just nodded once, quiet and open.“Okay,” she said softly. “Tell me.”Damien opened his mouth. The words hovered on the edge of his breath, heavy and bitter, ready to bleed out.But before he could say a word his thoughts were interrupted by the ding of the doorbell.The sound snapped between them like a crack in the air.Chloe flinched slightly, then looked toward the door. “Hold that thought,” she murmured, already moving.Damien stayed frozen for a beat, hands still curled at his sides. His heart pounded—not from nerves, but from the universe’s timing. He exhaled slowly, trying to shake it off, and turned just in time to catch the soft glow of her phone lighting up on the table.Ther
Sienna knocked on the white oak door in front of her. She stood tall on the familiar porch she walked away from years ago.She remembered the memories she had on that porch.The flowers she and Chloe used to decorate the doors. The muddy puddles they splashed in splattered on the walls.But her thoughts were interrupted by the subtle creaking of the door opening. She looked up to see the face of the woman she hadn’t seen in years.She had aged well but her grace hadn’t faded one bit.Miranda Bennett stared at her daughter like she had seen a ghost.“Sienna,” she said shortly—almost a whisper.Sienna nodded her head in confirmation. “Mom.”A moment of silence settled between the two women. Sienna gripped the strap of her purse tightly as if this could make the situation any less real.“Come in sweetheart.” Miranda gestured into her home.Sienna stepped in carefully. Every move was slow and calculated.Her eyes scanned the living room. “I see you did some renovating.” She said, runnin
The rain hadn’t stopped. It tapped gently on the windows like a lullaby that never ended. Chloe blinked awake, still wrapped in her robe, the soft cotton sticking slightly to her skin from where her damp hair had soaked into the fabric during the night. The room was dim, lit only by the grey morning light that crept through half-closed curtains. Her eyes drifted to the nightstand. Her phone lay there, the memory of Sienna’s message creeping in. It was just a line but it was just enough to pull her out of whatever fragile place Damien had coaxed her into. Chloe exhaled, pushing the thought away like she had all night. Not now. Not yet. Because Damien was still there. Slouched in the armchair by the fireplace, his long frame folded into something almost boyish in sleep. One arm hung over the side, fingers twitching faintly like he was still fighting something in a dream. His wet clothes were gone—his jacket hung on the back of a chair, his shirt wrinkled on the floor ne
The rain came down in sheets, soaking Damien to the skin. He stood outside Chloe’s building, his hair plastered to his forehead, water dripping from his lashes, but he didn’t move from the buzzer.“Chloe,” he said again, his voice heavy, gravelly from the cold and everything else weighing on him. “Please.”The intercom clicked on. Her voice came through, cold as the air around him.“I said talk. You wanted to talk, so go ahead. I’m listening.”Damien closed his eyes, exhaling a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.“Not like this.”He looked up at the speaker box as if it were her face.“Not through this damn thing.”“Well, I don’t care. You can yell through the rain for all I care. Maybe next time, bring a phone. That way you’d know I’ve been trying to reach you.”His throat tightened. “I know.”He stepped back slightly, rain streaking down his face like tears. “I saw the messages. I’m sorry.”“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Damien.” She snapped.“I know that too.” He says quickly.There w
Damien couldn’t take his eyes off his brother as he stood in the doorway. His shoulders were broader, his face sharper, but the resemblance still ran deep in their blood. He looked tired but not broken.“Four years, huh?” came the deep, rough voice.“You got taller.” He said chucking.Damien pursed his lips, he shifted in his seat.“You got older.”Marcel let out a dry, bitter chuckle as he approached the chair opposite him.He settled into the chair, his body opposing every movement.“Yeah, prison tends to do that.”They sat in silence that said too much. Damien looked at his brother, and for a second, guilt flickered in his eyes.“I didn’t know if you’d see me,” Damien said.“Didn’t think you’d come,” Marcel replied, folding his arms. “But I figured Sebastian got to you.”Damien gave a small nod.“He said it was time.”“It was time years ago.” Marcel leaned forward, elbows on the table. “But I guess now that the family name is burning, you all remember who you left behind.”Damien s
The night felt colder after he left.Chloe hadn’t moved from the spot by the door. She stood there for what felt like forever, her fingers still curled around the edge of the doorknob, like if she let go, something in her would unravel.The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.Even the hum of the fridge or the occasional creak of the building felt distant. Like background noise in a world that had suddenly stopped making sense.Sebastian’s voice was still echoing in her mind.“You’re not what he needs.”“He might love you. But that doesn’t mean he’ll choose you.”She swallowed hard, the burn of humiliation and heartbreak crawling slowly up her throat. She had faced a lot in her life—more than most—but something about the way he’d spoken to her, the cold authority in his tone, made her feel small in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.Not weak.Just… uninvited. Like an outsider in a story, she thought she was part of.She walked slowly back toward the couch, Damien’s hoodie still wrapped
Chloe sat curled on the couch, wrapped in one of Damien’s oversized hoodies—the dark navy one that still smelled faintly like him. Her phone was clenched in her hand, the screen dim and lifeless. She hadn’t looked away from it in over an hour.She had called. Again. And again. And again.There were five missed calls. All from her.The last one was just twenty minutes ago.She hadn’t left another voicemail. What was the point? The first two had said enough. The second even ended with a weak laugh, one meant to cover the crack in her voice. She hated that she’d sounded needy. She hated even more that she was needy right now.Sighing, she unlocked the screen and stared at the call log. His name sat at the top like a ghost: Damien Cross.No returned call.No message.Not even a read receipt on the text she sent earlier. She opened it again:“Are we still on for tonight? Let me know when you’re close.”It was delivered. That was it.A lump formed in her throat. She tilted her head back aga
Ryan didn’t move. He couldn’t.Sebastian’s voice hung like a blade suspended inches from his throat.He couldn’t look away. He didn’t dare look at Damien either—who sat silently, watching like this had all been rehearsed. Because maybe it had.Sebastian stepped further into the room, every movement slow and scary. He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to.Ryan rose to his feet instinctively, but his legs felt unsteady. “You didn’t expect me, did you?” Sebastian asked, tilting his head like he was inspecting a bug beneath glass. “That’s Damien’s problem. He gives people hope they don’t deserve.”“Sebastian…” Ryan croaked, but even he didn’t know what he was trying to say. An apology? An explanation?Sebastian waved his hand. “Don’t embarrass yourself, Ryan. You’ve already done enough of that for a lifetime.”Ryan let out a sigh, his pulse ringing in his ears.“What’s the most important thing you were taught, Ryan?” Sebastian asked.Ryan’s voice came in low, almost a whisper.“That family is
Damien stood at the far end of the rooftop of CrossCorp wind cutting through his jacket as he lit a cigarette. He rarely smoked—but when he did, it meant something was gnawing at him. The city stretched out below in a blur of noise and colour, oblivious to the storm brewing within him.He didn’t flinch when he heard footsteps approaching from behind.“I thought you quit,” a familiar voice said.Damien turned his head slightly. Ethan stood there, hands in his coat pockets, looking every bit the calm centre Damien could never quite be.“I did,” Damien muttered, exhaling smoke. “Guess I’m backsliding.”“You should stop, smoking never looked good on you,” Ethan said.Damien shook his head slightly. “Took you long enough. I thought you’d finally left me to my family chaos.” “Well, ‘chaos’ is an understatement when it comes to your family. But luckily you’re a part of mine so I’ll keep you in check.”“Welcome back”. Damien said. A smile tugged at his lips.“It’s good to be back. Besides I