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Behind closed doors

Jackson sat in his car, staring at his phone screen as he scrolled through his contacts. One name caught his eye: Henry, Damian’s personal assistant. If anyone knew what was happening behind those penthouse doors, it would be him. Without hesitation, he pressed the call button, his heart pounding with each ring.

“Hello?” Henry’s voice was hesitant, almost a whisper. The background noise suggested he was somewhere private, away from prying ears.

“Henry, it’s Jackson. I need your help. Something’s wrong with Damian, and Serena won’t let me see him. What’s going on?” Jackson tried to keep his voice steady, but the worry seeped through.

There was a long pause on the other end. “I... I can’t talk about this, Mr. Jackson. I don’t know anything.”

“Please,” Jackson interrupted, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I’m not asking for details. Just tell me if he’s okay. Is he safe? That’s all I need to know.”

After another pause, Henry’s voice came back, lower this time. “I don’t know about hi
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