ACE Consortium,

Damien walked into the boardroom, his presence as commanding as ever, but even he could feel the weight of the collective gaze pressing down on him. 

His usual confidence was unwavering, yet the air felt charged with suspicion, the tension nearly palpable. 

The room was stark — glass walls, dark wood, and polished chrome chairs that gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights. 

At the long rectangular table sat the board of directors — his power base, the ones who kept his empire running. But today, their expressions weren’t filled with faux respect, condescending glares and mischievous glints... 

Today, they were wary.

The first to speak was Richard Hawkins, an older man with graying hair and sharp, calculating eyes. He’d been on Damien’s side for years, but today, his voice was strained, almost... scared. 

“Damien,” Richard began, clearing his throat, “We weren’t expecting such an… announcement.” 

His eyes flickered to the rest of the room, gauging the others’ reactions.

 

“We thought perhaps you’d reconsidered the marriage, given the... well, the situation.”

Damien smirked, letting the silence hang for a moment. He had expected this. Expected them to balk. But they wouldn’t see his uncertainty, not even for a second.

“I don’t do ‘reconsidering,’” he replied smoothly, his voice as smooth as silk but laced with coldness. “This marriage isn’t for show. Neither is it a strategic move to meet your ultimatum. I've found my soulmate. You’ll all see that soon enough.”

Maria Sanchez, a younger director with raven-black hair and an unshakeable stare, frowned, her arms crossed tightly. She was sharp, calculating, and she wasn’t buying it. 

“Strategic? Damien, what are you really playing at here?” 

She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto him.

The room seemed to hold its breath. Damien didn’t flinch. His gaze was unyielding as he met her challenge head-on. 

“It means everything stays exactly as it is,” he said, his voice low but firm. “If any of you have other ideas, I suggest you keep them to yourselves.”

The other directors exchanged uncomfortable glances. Lawrence Shaw, the one person who had always been a loyal ally, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was a bit older, with thick glasses that magnified his pale eyes and a demeanor that bordered on nervousness. 

"Damien, you’re not giving us much to work with. We’re already under enough scrutiny. The press, the shareholders - they all have questions."

Damien’s smile was tight. 

“Then let them question. I’m not here to explain myself to anyone.” His tone was icy, biting through the room. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a wedding to attend this evening... Don't be late!"

With that, he stood, leaving the room, leaving the board filled with uncertainty. 

As Damien walked back into his office, the air seemed to shift in an instant. He opened the door, and his eyes scanned the room - Xander, Seb, and Dante were all in their usual spots, but there was something different about them. They were no longer just quietly observing; they were interacting with Lianna.

Xander had leaned in closer, his usually sharp eyes now softened with something that almost resembled approval as he conversed quietly with her. His dark brown hair was combed back, but a few strands had fallen free, making him look less polished than usual. He had always had a way of making people feel like they were the most important person in the room. And it seemed Lianna wasn’t immune to his influence.

Seb had his arms crossed, but his usual sarcastic grin had faded. Instead, he listened intently as Lianna spoke, his posture relaxed but his eyes never leaving her. Seb’s dark, unruly hair and hazel eyes made him a striking presence, but there was something unsettling in his calmness today - something unlike the usual devil-may-care attitude he wore like a shield.

Even Dante was giving Lianna a nod of approval. He stood tall, arms folded, his steely eyes always vigilant, always calculating. His icy silence spoke louder than anyone’s words, and today, it seemed like his approval of Lianna’s transformation was more than just surface-level.

Damien stood in the doorway for a moment, his chest tightening. The jealousy - raw, primal - gnawed at him, unexpected and unsettling. 

What the hell is happening here?

He cleared his throat, stepping into the room, and immediately, the room fell silent. He could feel the heat of their stares, but he wouldn’t allow it to break him.

“Alright, enough of this,” he said coldly, his voice sharp, cutting through the thick tension in the air. “Let’s get to work.”

As he moved to sit at his desk, Damien couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. 

Between them... between her and his men. He clenched his jaw, feeling the bitterness rise within him. 

"Why the hell do I feel like this?" he thought, trying to not lose it.

As he settled into his chair, he stared at Lianna, who sat beside him with a posture that screamed defiance, but also control. There was a cold fire in her emerald eyes that he couldn't ignore. She was no longer the woman he had married to protect his empire - no, she was something much more interesting.

Her voice broke the silence as she glanced at him. 

"I didn’t come here to sit quietly in the corner and play the role of the dutiful wife, Damien. If you think I’m just a pawn in your game, you’re mistaken." 

Damien's heart skipped a beat, though he would never show it. He kept his gaze steady, his lips curling into a small smirk. 

"You think you can control the game?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous. “You’re playing a game with men far more experienced than you, Lianna.”

Her lips twitched upward in response, a silent challenge hanging in the air.

 

"I’m not afraid of men like you, Damien,” she retorted, her voice smooth as silk, but her eyes told a different story — one of danger, of determination. “I’m not afraid of anyone.”

Damien’s breath hitched slightly, his pulse quickening despite himself. The shift was undeniable. The woman standing before him now was no longer someone he could control with a simple glance or a command.

He leaned forward slightly, the tension in the room thick as smoke.

 

“We’ll see about that.”

An assistant knocked on the door, breaking the moment. 

“Master Hawke,” the assistant called out, “There’s an urgent call from the Carringtons. They want to speak with you.”

At the mention of the Carrington name, Lianna's heart skipped a beat.

The Carringtons? 

What the hell do they want now?

Damien shot a glance at Lianna, but her expression remained unreadable, her eyes locked onto him with quiet intensity.

He nodded stiffly. 

“I’ll take the call. Everyone, get back to work.”

As the assistant left, Damien’s mind raced. 

What did the Carringtons want? 

And why did it feel like he was walking straight into a trap?

He stood up, pacing, as he reached for the phone. But as his fingers hovered over the receiver, a new thought crossed his mind, darker than the last.

Was Lianna working with them?

The room grew heavier with each passing second, the silence pressing in as the weight of his next move loomed larger than ever.