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Chapter XVIII: From His Gaze

DAMON’S POV

The neon lights flickered against the rain-soaked streets as Damon's chauffeur-driven car pulled up outside "The Rusty Tankard," a quaint pub nestled in the heart of Anbridge City. Damon exited the vehicle, his tailored suit impeccable despite the weather. As he stepped inside, the warmth of the pub enveloped him, and the chatter of patrons mingled with the clinking of glasses.

Damon relished the anonymity the pub provided. Despite his status as a billionaire, he often found solace in places where his wealth didn't define him. He made his way to the bar, nodding to a few regulars who recognized him but respected his desire for privacy.

"Your usual, Mr. Damon?" the bartender, Charlie, asked with a friendly grin.

Damon nodded, settling onto a stool. He watched as Charlie expertly poured him a glass of fine whiskey, savoring the aroma before taking a sip. For a moment, he allowed himself to forget about the pressures of his corporate empire and the expectations that came with
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