NOT MY PAINTING!

Chapter 6

“Hmm…” Damien murmured, the corners of his mouth curving in amusement.

“Hide that shotgun. You’re scaring someone,” he warned his assistant.

“But it’s a registered gun—” J-Bounce started, but his words died in his throat as he lifted his head and saw Rose. His jaw dropped, and shock took over his entire body.

“And who said I’m afraid of that?” Rose smirked, reaching into her bag and pulling out an object that also resembled a shotgun. “I have this!” She pointed it at them.

“That’s a pepper spray!” J-Bounce shrieked, immediately hiding behind his master, clutching Damien’s coat like a lifeline. “I’m allergic to that thing… I hate it! Ask her to drop it, pleaseee…” He whimpered, and actual tears slipped from his eyes.

Just then, the elevator halted at its destination. To Rose’s surprise, five of her employees stood outside, waiting. As the doors slid open, they saw their Lady Boss pointing a “weapon” at two impeccably dressed gentlemen, who were obviously there for business.

It was the perfect scandal, the kind of gossip that would fuel the entire office for days.

“What are you looking at?” she snapped, narrowing her eyes at them. Two employees had their phones raised, ready to capture the moment for their social media feeds. “If I see any pictures of this anywhere, you’re all grounded. Sarah, Lee, and—”

“Go… go… goo…” The moment she began counting, they all vanished like a startled flock of birds.

“Let’s go, dear,” she said sweetly, turning to Sean. Once her employees had dispersed, she put her pepper spray back into her bag, then took Sean’s hand and pulled him along.

The sound of her voice was like a blade to Damien’s chest, slicing through him with unexpected pain.

As Rose and Sean walked away, the two men remained inside the elevator. Damien clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth, while J-Bounce, still peeking from behind his master, admired Rose’s confident stride as she whined her waist.

“I thought she was dead by now, but instead, she’s aged beautifully. Or… is she not the person I think she is?” J-Bounce teased, finally stepping out from his hiding spot.

His master didn’t laugh.

Damien’s eyes were crimson with fury. He bit his lip, clenched his fists, and struck his forehead with a knuckle. The humor vanished from J-Bounce’s face in an instant.

“So, if she had actually intended to harm me, you would have let her do it? Without even trying to stop her?” Damien’s voice carried an edge sharper than steel. He picked his car key from J-Bounce's top pocket.

“Are you serious, Boss? I thought it was a joke. I knew she wouldn’t actually do it. She was just bluffing—her finger wasn’t even on the trigger…”

“Did you just say joke?”

“I’m sorry, Master!” J-Bounce dropped to his knees to continue pleading. “Please forgive me! You know I’m loyal. I’d risk my life for you if necessary. Please, Master, forgive me!”

Damien stared at him, adjusting his tie. He slipped his hands into his pockets, then withdrew them. Without another word, he stepped out of the elevator, leaving his assistant still kneeling.

“Give me your gun,” he ordered, stretching out his hand.

J-Bounce froze. He hadn’t expected things to escalate this far. Ever since recovering from his recent illness, he had been more playful, but Damien’s sudden shift reminded him just how serious things could get.

His hands trembled as he hesitated.

“Shall I repeat myself, Bounce?” Damien’s voice was eerily calm, but his fingers twitched, betraying his suppressed anger. “For the last time, give me the gun.”

J-Bounce swallowed hard and handed it over, squeezing his eyes shut as if bracing for something worse.

He heard the gun creak in Damien’s grasp.

“Now, listen carefully,” Damien said. “Find out who that man is. The one following her around. I want every detail about him.”

J-Bounce cracked his eyes open and nodded hastily. “I promise. I’ll have everything you need by tomorrow morning.”

“You have until 7:30 PM this evening.”

J-Bounce gulped. “Sure…” His voice wavered.

“Why are you still on the ground? I never asked you to kneel.” Damien scoffed before glancing at the weapon in his hand. “And as for this,” he gestured at the gun, “I’ll be keeping it—for now. Maybe then, you’ll remember that we are not playing games.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

Without another glance, Damien strode toward the auction hall. By now, the central table had been removed, and the space had been reconfigured for the gala.

“Mr. Hugh Pauls of Gilden Rolex Company, £100,000!” the auctioneer announced, prompting a round of applause.

“£200,000,” Damien countered.

The room fell silent. Murmurs spread like ripples in a pond. In London, Mr. Hugh Pauls sat at the top of the wealth ladder.

He set his wine glass down and turned, his gaze locking onto Damien, who had just taken a seat. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut.

Rose, seated at her high table, observed the showdown.

The auctioneer lifted his bell, but before he could ring it, Mr. Hugh raised his balloon and doubled the bid. “£400,000.”

Damien smirked. “This is going to be fun,” he murmured under his breath before raising his balloon. Before the auctioneer could even point at him, he announced, “£800,000.”

Gasps filled the room.

Hugh clenched his jaw and lifted his hand again, but Damien was faster. He shot to his feet, his voice low but resonant. “£1,000,000.”

Silence.

The auctioneer’s bell rang quickly. “SOLD!” One million was way above expectations. Initially, Damien had just come to buy it, but since Hugh also wanted it, they decided to auction.  

Rose’s face darkened with rage. She gripped the armrest of her chair, her nails sinking into the fabric before she abruptly stood.

“It’s sold to Mr. Hugh! This devil here can’t have my painting!” she declared.

Damien chuckled, glancing at the bewildered auctioneer, who was now stuck in an impossible dilemma.

“Madam,” the auctioneer stammered, “you explicitly stated that we needed at least £200,000 for this piece, half of which would be donated to charity. I believe—”

“I said give it to Mr. Hugh and donate everything to charity,” Rose cut him off.

Her phone rang, ending the argument. Without another word, she exited to take the call, "No, I did not ask you to bring them here..." she whispered as she left the gala, leaving Sean to handle the rest of the event.

“Don’t worry, Sir,” the auctioneer called after Damien, who was already leaving. “We have another painting here, very affordable—”

Angry Damien ignored him like he were no one. He just looked at the beautiful painting, which could have matched his business if used as a logo. 

He exited the venue and went straight to his car. He mostly did not like to drive on his own, but his driver wasn’t around. He was the type who would start the engine before even closing the door. He pressed the engine, and the car started.

Just as he reached to shut it, his gold watch slipped from his wrist, and fell almost under the car.

“Damn it!” he growled, bending to retrieve it. But as he did, his foot accidentally hit the accelerator and the car lurched forward.

When he grabbed the wheel, his blood ran cold as he saw two little kids who stood directly in his path. The car light shone on their faces

A scream tore from his throat, mixing with the terrified cries of the children as the car hurtled toward them.