Damien’s car screeched into the driveway with violent urgency. He slammed the door shut behind him, gripping the car keys in one hand as he stormed up the staircase. His footsteps were fast and heavy—each one fueled by rising fury.
As he entered the lounge, he immediately spotted his secretary standing nervously beside his grandfather’s business manager. The moment the secretary opened his mouth to explain, Damien closed the distance between them in a flash.
Without a word, Damien switched the keys to his other hand and delivered a brutal slap across the secretary’s face.
The man staggered back slightly but quickly straightened himself, lowering his head in silence.
The older business manager, dressed in a formal suit, was visibly annoyed from having to wait so long. But now, watching Damien strike his own man so fiercely, his expression twisted into shock. Drops of sweat formed on his forehead, which he instinctively wiped with the back of his hand, licking his lips nervously.
Damien stepped in again, gripping the secretary’s shirt collar tightly. He pulled the man’s face close to his own and growled with ice-cold anger, his voice low but piercing:
“When I said there should be no mistakes—I meant no fucking mistakes.”
The secretary stood still, head bowed, shame clinging to him like smoke. On the single-seater sofa nearby, the manager’s color had drained from his face.
Damien turned his head toward him, gaze hard and unwavering.
“I hope you don’t mind waiting a little longer,” he said, voice calm but laced with warning. “There’s just one urgent issue I need to deal with. I’ll be with you shortly.”
The manager quickly nodded, almost dropping his briefcase as he clutched it tighter to his chest.
Damien shifted his glare back to the secretary.
“The information was completely confidential,” the secretary spoke, his voice slightly trembling. “Very few people knew about the site. It must have been leaked from someone inside. One of our own, sir.”
Damien shoved him back by the collar, releasing his grip.
The secretary stumbled half a step but remained composed—his head still bowed, hands respectfully clasped in front of him. He was used to this treatment by now. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t protest.
Damien’s voice turned into a harsh command.
“Whoever that son of a bitch is—I want him found. Drag him in front of me.”
His words echoed like a gunshot through the room.
“And until that happens,” Damien added with venom, “stay the hell out of my sight.”
The secretary gave a silent nod and stepped away.
Damien now turned his attention to the manager.
The man instinctively clutched his briefcase to his chest and swallowed hard.
Damien dropped onto the opposite single sofa, crossing one leg over the other. One arm draped lazily over the backrest, while the other rested firm on his knee. His stare locked onto the man in front of him—sharp, calculated, and cold as steel.
Then, Damien slowly curled the fingers of his resting hand, placing two of them over his lips. His gaze turned calculating. “Ah, yes. Now I remember something,” he said, sitting up straighter.
Leaning forward, Damien rested his elbows on his knees, lowering his face for a moment, then lifting it again with a faint smirk. The look in his eyes—unreadable and dark—made the manager feel like he was staring at a psychopath.
Damien stood up, walked over to a nearby shelf beneath a large mounted TV, and picked up a file. He placed it on the table in front of the manager, then calmly returned to his seat.
“I’m Augustus West’s grandson,” he said simply. “In plain words—the child you all believed dead... is very much alive.”
Damien leaned back, his arm draped again across the sofa’s back, brushing off his coat with the other hand, calm as ever.
The manager sat frozen in disbelief, staring at him.
After a long pause, he finally stammered, “B-but... Sebastian West never had a son… and—”
Before he could finish, Damien cut him off, voice sharp and eyes colder.
“Lucian... Lucian West.”
The manager blinked rapidly. “But... their whole family died in that accident…”
Damien gave a wry laugh, gesturing to himself. “And yet, here I am. Alive.”
Leaning forward, he gestured toward the file. “You’ll find everything in there. My DNA matches Lucian West’s. The rest of the details are all documented too.”
The manager picked up the file, frantically flipping through the pages. Sweat dotted his forehead now, and disbelief still clung to his face.
Damien watched him silently, carefully.
Then he spoke again, tone amused, “Strange... I thought you’d be pleased to learn that a West family heir is still alive. But judging by your expression... you don’t look too happy.”
The manager finally closed the file and looked up. “It’s not like that, sir Damien. But... if you know the history, then you must know Augustus West disinherited your father—he was removed from all property and business. That would make you ineligible to inherit anything.”
Damien leaned forward, smiling brightly now. “Wow. I’m impressed you even remember my name.”
Resting both elbows on his knees again, Damien laughed faintly, then leaned back.
“As for your point,” he said casually, “Yes, I know Grandpa cut my dad out. But he never disowned me—or my mother. You’ll find proof of that in the same file. Even after the fallout, a lot of property was still under my name. I just couldn’t claim it until I turned eighteen. And until then, my father had no legal access to it.”
The manager nodded, then added, “There’s also Miss Lena. She owns the largest share in the company now. After Mr. Augustus passed away, his shares went directly to her. But since she’s not currently in a state to manage things—I’ve been handling it all. If you want your share in the company, you’ll need to approach Miss Lena first.”
Damien took that in calmly.
“I’ll speak to her, of course,” he replied. “But right now, I want you to arrange a press conference for tomorrow—at the West family’s business building, in the main conference hall. Invite the media, the press—everyone.”
Damien stood as he spoke, his voice resolute. “I’ll be presenting proof that I’m alive. A public return. Let’s give the business world a surprise they won’t forget. After that, I’ll pay my cousin a visit.”
The manager stood up as well, grabbing the file and his briefcase. “Yes, sir. I’ll arrange everything,” he said quickly, then walked out.
Once the manager left, Damien pulled out his phone and dialed Silas. As if he’d been waiting for Damien’s call, Silas picked up immediately.
But before Silas could speak, Damien said, “Zero... I suspect Zero is behind this.”
There was a pause on the line, then Silas replied, tense, “What are you talking about? Zero’s been missing for a long time. No one knows where he is.”
Damien leaned back into the sofa, eyes closed, speaking quietly, “It was him. No one’s ever seen Zero clearly—but those who did described him. The man I saw last night in the hallway... fits that description exactly.”
Silas was confused. “Who did you see? And how the hell did someone get in with all that security?”
Damien ignored the question and continued, “Blue eyes. Medium height. Agile, fast in combat. Always barefoot, black cloak, and a mask that hides everything except those piercing eyes.”
Silas went silent for a moment, then said, “If this is Zero’s work—then he must have something to gain. Either someone hired him... or he’s acting on his own.”
Damien shook his head. “From what I know, Zero hasn’t worked for anyone in a long time. He’s been on some personal mission. And now... I think I’ve stepped into something tied to him. Maybe he wants me to follow him. Maybe he wants to distract me.”
Silas let out a deep breath. “Whatever it is, we suffered a loss tonight. No more deals for a while—I’ll handle that. You just focus on what you came here to do.”
Damien simply responded with a quiet “Hmm,” and ended the call.
Then he stood up, and headed upstairs.
Yesterday felt like a whole century for Greyson.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwc893JPDFy
Being stuck at home, working on files, and doing nothing but sit all day?220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlwN86hXtXZ
Yeah—not exactly his definition of peace.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgVacj5bpeM
He could endure it for a day, sure, but more than that? No chance.
Still, the one day of rest had helped him feel fresh again.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjF6dmPE2Nr
Now, standing tall in front of the mirror, buttoning his suit with quiet focus, he looked every bit the man in charge.
Greyson was wearing a stylish two-piece beige suit over a classic white dress shirt. The tailored jacket hugged his frame perfectly, with structured shoulders and neat lapels. A solid black tie sliced through the soft beige like a bold declaration—clean, elegant, commanding.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC5L3igDzdk
The neutral color palette gave him a calm, sophisticated aura, but the way he carried himself? That was pure, unwavering control.
And those intense black eyes, full of quiet fire and silent decisions—they sealed the deal.
He unbuttoned his coat with practiced ease, picking up his laptop and a few files before slipping them neatly into his briefcase. Just as he stepped out of his room, Lena emerged from hers. She stopped in her tracks, surprised to see him dressed and clearly ready to leave.
Greyson smiled and greeted, "Good morning."
But Lena didn’t reply immediately.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJwwV0iXAI1
She just stared—wide-eyed, slightly stunned.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsr6LzcfFud
He raised an eyebrow at her, curious.
"You’re not fully healed yet..." she finally blurted, stepping closer with worry in her eyes.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkM8DqQ4zxn
"Don’t go to the agency today, please. Just rest for one more day. The doctor said your shoulder wound is still deep."
Her voice was soft but sincere, her honey-brown eyes filled with concern that made her look... painfully sweet.
Greyson was much taller than her, and to meet her gaze, he had to slightly bend his neck. Lena, on the other hand, had to lift her head up quite a bit—like always.
With a soft chuckle, he gently placed both hands on her shoulders, leaned forward just a little, and said quietly,220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHPk5lUAFtT
"But what about dopamine, You look kinda cute when you worry... but I’m fine now. If I keep sitting at home like this, I’ll never get better."
His voice was calm, assuring. He lightly patted her head, his fingers brushing through her hair in a gentle gesture, and then walked past her.
And Lena?220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1zQ35NtyN1
She was still standing there like a statue.
Her face flushed pink, warmth spreading across her cheeks as if the air had suddenly changed.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8RfVLfu6LH
Greyson’s touch was still lingering in her hair. She blinked, closed her eyes, and smiled shyly to herself, running a hand through her hair exactly where he had.
But as she turned around...220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2zpccmg6sq
Greyson was still there.
Leaning casually against the stair railing, arms folded, watching her with an amused, raised-brow smile.
Lena panicked.
She looked around in a flurry, searching for an escape route. Finding none, she spun around and slipped into Greyson’s room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.
Downstairs, the cook and the head maid paused mid-task when they heard a rare sound echoing down from above—220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOOGkjPVxGv
Greyson Blackwood’s laugh.
The head maid looked up, genuinely unsure if she had just imagined it.
A moment later, Greyson gently knocked on his room door.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyEY6Kc8p00
Lena, now inside and leaning against it, felt her heart pounding in her ears.From the other side, his voice came—playful and patient.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrJW9cl0GZM
"Miss, in all that confusion... you walked into my room. I left my phone in there... can I have it back, please?"
Lena jolted out of her trance.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtDsJC6zFuh
She scanned the room, spotted the phone on the bedside table, and quickly grabbed it. Cracking the door just a little, she slipped her hand out and offered the phone—making absolutely sure he couldn’t slip inside.Greyson chuckled softly as he took the phone from her hand.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEeQNnr8NKi
"Take care," he said warmly, before heading downstairs.
This morning had started off perfectly for Greyson.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr1y6NQCSKB
And Lena?220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRUdsx1ALwN
Well... that was a question worth asking.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0v2307gOcb
She was still standing in his room, cheeks flaming, completely flustered.
With his hair neatly set and expression as serious as stone, Damien stepped out of the car surrounded by a ring of guards, right in front of the towering and elegant West family business empire.
Reporters and cameramen swarmed instantly, clicking away and hurling questions, but Damien ignored them with calm authority, striding straight through the entrance with unshaken composure.
His presence was striking — the kind that made people pause.
A powerful, graceful man with grey-streaked hair styled perfectly at his forehead, warm honey-colored eyes filled with quiet command, a built body, and veiny, broad hands — he was the kind of man one could stare at for a long time without even realizing it.
Inside, the conference hall was buzzing. Reporters scribbled in their notepads, prepping for the upcoming press conference, while some whispered updates about the arrival. And then — silence.
The quiet click of cameras echoed as Damien entered from a side door and walked confidently to the stage. His sharp gaze swept across the room, and somehow, that alone was enough to shut down all noise. Only the sound of camera shutters filled the air at intervals.
He unbuttoned his coat with one hand, slid the other into the pocket of his high-waisted black trousers, then leaned slightly toward the mic, adjusting it. Everyone waited.
And then, he spoke — voice deep and commanding, echoing through the hall.
"By now... I think you all know who I am.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡd42u1d27xT
I'm Damien.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj0tRldSGg4
Damien West.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9h4GhqlEH4
Son of Lucian West...220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbNLQtWlrKc
Grandson of Augustus West."
His voice had a strange pull — like a quiet spell he cast over the room.
“You must be wondering…” he paused, glancing around, “if I was their son… then where was I all these years? And why now?”
The press nodded in unison.
Damien lowered his eyes slightly and chuckled faintly. Dozens of cameras captured that rare smile.
Looking back at them, he continued, “Honestly? Even I don't fully know. One day, I just... felt like I should return. Maybe I was upset. Upset at how my grandfather disowned my father — pushed him out of everything. So I distanced myself too. But when I heard about my grandfather's death, something changed. I came back.”
He finished, then added calmly, “You can ask your questions now.”
A reporter raised her hand. Damien gave a small nod.
“Sir, could you tell us where you’ve been all this time? And… there were rumors that your family died in an accident, including you. But now you’re here — how did you survive?”
Damien listened silently, then gave a soft nod.
“I spent years… on the streets. Living on footpaths. After my parents died, I had no one. No one… except one of my father’s friends. He found me, helped me, and sent me abroad for education. I studied, built myself up — in the same field as my father. Business. And now… here I am.”
He spread his arms slightly and gave a small, knowing shrug. “As for how I survived… let’s just call it fate. I survived… because fate let me.”
He smiled faintly.
Another reporter stood. “Sir, you’re claiming to be Lucian West’s son after all these years — do you have any proof?”
Damien didn’t flinch. He tilted his head and gestured to his secretary standing near the stage. Immediately, 7 to 8 people began handing out documents to the reporters.
Damien leaned into the mic again.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMlp2Dujkty
“Here’s the proof. Any thing else".
Greyson stood in the center of the training hall, hands clasped behind his back, his expression cold and stern as he glared at the line of agents in front of him. The hall was pin-drop silent. Without his coat, wearing only a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly past his elbows, his flushed face made it clear—today, he wasn’t in the mood for excuses.
The entire team stood tense, silently praying for mercy. Nico, standing on one side with his head bowed and hands folded, was whispering in his heart, "Please God, just let me survive Director's wrath today. I swear, if you save me this once, I’ll... I’ll feed the poor! Not Carl. I meant the actual poor people!"
Suddenly, Greyson’s furious voice thundered through the hall, 220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgfu2ThEZcy
“When I said no one leaves their position—how dare you go against my direct orders? Huh? Answer me... HOW DARE YOU!” 220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgoe9c25Qfn
His voice echoed off the walls, and Nico’s legs visibly began to shake.
No one responded. Eyes were downcast, but necks remained upright, backs stiff, discipline in posture if not courage. Greyson paced slowly left to right, inspecting each face like a general judging his fallen troops. His voice cracked the silence again, 220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB4Ubmipw9W
“Does anyone have an answer to what I just asked?”
One agent finally stepped forward. “Sir, they were escaping with evidence. We had to act.”
Greyson stormed up to him and said, “You think I’m blind? You don’t think I saw them running off with evidence?”
The agent fell silent, ashamed. Greyson then turned to Nico and walked toward him. Nico didn’t lift his gaze.
“I gave you one responsibility, Nico Alvarez. Just one. And even that—you couldn’t handle?” Greyson’s voice dropped in tone but rose in intensity. “An entire team’s weapons failed. At the worst possible moment. Why?” he growled.
Just then, Carter burst in, breathless, holding a tablet. “Director—you need to see this!”
Greyson looked at him, confused. Carter handed him the tablet, panting. “Damien... Damien West, sir. He’s claiming to be Damien West—grandson of Augustus West. He’s holding a live press conference right now... from the West family’s business building!”
Greyson stared at the screen. Damien stood calmly, both hands in his pockets, answering a reporter’s question with a collected seriousness.
Without wasting another second, Greyson rushed toward the lift. Every agent left in the training hall silently thanked Carter for saving them. If Greyson’s anger was a storm, Carter had just pulled them out of its path.
Back in his office, Greyson entered and switched on the large LED screen mounted to one wall. He sank into the sofa opposite, crossed his legs, elbow resting on the armrest, and fingers gently pressed against his lips as his sharp gaze locked onto the live press conference.
A reporter asked, “Sir, can you share your plans going forward? And about your cousin—Miss Lena West? Since Augustus West’s murder, Director Greyson Blackwood himself has been searching for her.”
Damien replied smoothly, 220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyyrkrHkczb
“I’ll be taking over the West family business from here on. And as for my cousin—she’s perfectly safe. In fact... I’d say she’s in very secure hands.”
Damien smirked at the camera. Greyson's lip curled into a small smile. He knew Damien wouldn’t drop his name directly in front of the media. But this subtle jab—it was Damien’s way of reminding Greyson that he knew exactly where Lena was... and who had her.
Damien ended the press conference with, “That’s all for today,” and left the stage surrounded by security.
Still watching, Greyson didn’t blink. His gaze stayed fixed on the screen, unreadable thoughts running behind his eyes. He finally picked up his phone and called Chandler.
“You saw the news?” Greyson asked, putting the call on speaker and setting the phone down on the table. He leaned back on the couch, eyes closed now, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.
“Uh... no, sir,” Chandler responded, confused.
“Then go watch it. And if the man from the news shows up at the mansion—don’t stop him. Let him in. Let him meet her,” Greyson said, voice heavy and calm.
“You won’t be coming, sir?” Chandler asked cautiously.
“I have too much work. I’ll come later in the evening,” Greyson answered flatly before ending the call.
Meanwhile, in his cabin, Nico flopped into a chair, dramatically covering his forehead with his hand. “Oh God... someone please bring me a lemonade,” he groaned.
A few staff members peeked in. “Why? What happened?”
Nico sighed, still being dramatic. “Please don’t ask... I think all the sodium in my body melted from Greyson Sir’s rage. I’m dizzy.”
The others burst out laughing. In a matter of minutes, everyone was offering Nico juice, snacks, and comfort food.
That’s how it always went here—whoever got insulted by Greyson ended up being pampered by the whole team afterward.
Damien’s car, followed closely by security vehicles, was heading toward Greyson’s mansion. Sitting silently in the back seat, Damien stared out the window, watching the world race by. He had taken off his coat and placed it to the side, lost deep in thought.
After so many years… he was finally going to meet Lena.
He never imagined this moment—never hoped for it. In his mind, their reunion would’ve been filled with rage, driven by revenge. For all these years, he had blamed her. It was Lena, after all, who had caused their grandfather to pull the trigger on his own son. To Damien, she had always been at the heart of it all.
But now… things had changed.
Now he understood why Grandpa had done what he did. When a man—Lena’s own uncle—could order her to be sexually harassed just to feed his hunger for revenge, then such a man deserved no sympathy, not even death could absolve him.
Since learning the truth, Damien had begun to hate his own father—hate him with a passion so intense it burned through his soul. And yet, a part of him still loved him. That contradiction tore at Damien like a dull, relentless knife.
The pain he carried within... was unspeakable.
Shaking his head slightly, Damien reached toward his coat and pulled a folded, fragile piece of paper from its pocket. It was old, worn with time. He gently unfolded it—and there it was: a childlike drawing of a little girl with two ponytails holding the hand of a taller boy. Both were smiling wide, standing in a field. The colors spilled out of the lines here and there. At the bottom corner, in clumsy handwriting, it read:220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB9HfXMoui0
"For Dami"220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkmM6xqWvE3
A tiny heart drawn next to it.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJZ2CARuEuI
She always drew hearts, no matter where.
Damien stared at it in silence. No tears fell—he didn’t cry anymore—but his eyes still turned red with the weight of suppressed emotion. His hands trembled ever so slightly as he quickly folded the paper and slipped it into a small pocket in his wallet.
The car came to a gentle stop. Damien looked out the window again. There it was—the mansion—grand, pristine, and surrounded by a field of soft purple lavenders. A security guard approached, leaned down to look into the back seat, and after a brief glance said,220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡV6i49IVxJh
“You may proceed, sir.”
Only Damien’s car was allowed inside. The security team was halted at the gates. The grand entrance loomed ahead, and as the vehicle pulled to a stop, the driver swiftly exited and opened the door. Damien stepped out, coat in hand, his eyes scanning his surroundings calmly.
A moment later, a guard walked up to him with a polite smile.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy5sRpP9S4Z
“Good evening, sir. I’m Chandler. Please, allow me to escort you inside.”220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0d55xoOKss
Damien eyed him up and down in a single glance.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHVhTKJQJxd
“I was hoping to meet your Director personally… Instead, his agency sends me one of their agents for a welcome?”220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYZU6Grwa4P
Chandler, still smiling, replied, “The Director is at the agency, sir. But he was aware you were arriving and left clear orders that you were to be allowed in without delay.”220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYQvwCJETin
Damien gave a slight nod, accepting the explanation.
Meanwhile, inside…
Lena stood in the kitchen, stirring her coffee. The cold had crept in sharply today, so she was wrapped in warmth—an oversized, chunky knit sweater in a soft taupe shade paired with black leggings and fluffy white slippers. Her honey-brown hair was tied into a loose bun, a few strands curling around her neck and face. Holding her coffee mug, she stepped out of the kitchen toward the lounge, not paying much attention to her surroundings.
Just then, Damien entered the main hallway.
And there—he saw her.
His closest childhood friend. His loyal companion. The first girl whose presence had ever meant anything to him. She looked so soft, so familiar, like a gentle memory made real again.
Lena hadn't noticed him yet.
But something shifted.
She felt the weight of someone’s gaze—that gaze. Her eyes instinctively turned toward the door... and froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡMnnCgZvxPO
Her heartbeat stuttered.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmtd3yf5s5a
Was it even beating? Or was it pounding so fast she couldn't tell?
Her eyes locked on his—and the years between them disappeared.
The mug slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.
They stood there, yards apart, just staring at one another—time suspended between a broken past and a fragile, trembling present.
Damien didn’t move. His face unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes betrayed him. Red with restraint, heavy with emotions he refused to let fall.
Lena’s lips quivered. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears instantly welled up.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ77LhtzUnZj
“Is… is it really you?” she whispered, her voice breaking into pieces.
Damien said nothing. Just looked at her, like she was both a ghost and a prayer.
Tears fell freely from her eyes as she rushed toward him. She stopped just close enough to look up into his face, trembling. Without thinking, she reached out and touched his arm, as if making sure he was real, not a trick of the mind.
Her voice cracked—220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUHZkCXY37U
“Dami…”
His name.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ59s3Ivak62
Her voice.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡH1pN5K98t6
That nickname only she ever used.
A thousand emotions burst within that single word.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwcytmPY4pG
Grief. Anger. Relief.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡs3lOWAuDlc
Love that never left.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZm19XGETRO
Pain that never healed.
She gripped his arm with both hands and laid her forehead against it—and wept.
She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWS9QGEY5ao
She just... cried.
Because he was there.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8mKX0XmmoH
Alive.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡof9BKvJUPJ
Breathing.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡh1Q1A3qo11
Here.
Chandler had long since stepped away, giving them space. 220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqOk2sGfDsi
Damien stood, unsure where to look. He didn’t hold her—not yet—but his eyes turned redder still. For a moment, he let himself hear it: that soft, trembling voice calling him the way no one else ever had.
Then finally, gently, he placed his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair like a memory, and whispered:220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAT4qaJEEZj
“Hey… that’s enough… don’t cry like this.”
Later, they sat in the lounge. Lena on the single sofa, Damien casually leaning on the larger one beside her. The air between them was still thick—unspoken questions, silent tremors—but the edge had softened.
Damien looked at her and teased lightly,220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfC9hFFkHbk
“Honestly, I’m still amazed… where do you keep such a massive stock of tears?”
Lena glared at him with mock annoyance. Her eyes still shone with emotion, but her voice was steady.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1dAzu7nOTA
“How are you still like this?”
Damien gave a soft smirk, spreading his arms a little and leaning toward her slightly, replying in a low, playful voice,220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU4yFa6JjLp
“Handsome, rich… and a successful businessman.”
Lena scoffed and waved her hand dismissively.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtlPHAMpfdE
“ Huhhh.....that’s enough. You’re not that handsome.”
Damien pressed his lips together in a crooked smile and nodded, knowingly amused.
In that moment, he felt it.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB3FDlR8XHw
With Lena sitting there, teasing him like old times…
He wasn’t the ruthless Damien West anymore.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuzzE2MLVhB
He was her Dami again.
After sitting and talking with Lena for a while, Damien stood up from the sofa. He grabbed his coat in one hand, his phone in the other, and looked at her.
“Alright, I should go now,” he said softly.
Lena stood with him, hesitant.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡj5e0iOtRop
“Stay a little longer,” she said.
But Damien gently shook his head.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡp6FeIIJv04
“Start preparing to come home. You don’t need to stay here anymore.”
Lena, ignoring the weight behind his words, asked casually,220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtkJSq4nYi1
“So… what will you do next?”
Damien raised an eyebrow, amused.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFVZ48Iewpd
“Which means… you didn’t watch my press conference?”
Lena tilted her head and shook it in playful denial, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.
Damien exhaled a light chuckle and continued,220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡz3SkYgADj1
“I’m planning to host a party soon. It’ll help build connections with the city’s elite and business circle… might land a few good deals too.”
He was heading toward the door, coat folded over his arm, speaking as he walked — then turned halfway, looking back at her with a half-smile.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL6ZV0TbbJS
“And during that party, you’ll hand over my share of the company officially to me.”
Lena nodded with a grin, confirming without hesitation.
Damien had barely descended a few steps when something made him pause. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Lena still standing there upstairs, and called up,220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYP5RB3O5hZ
“Let’s hope, cousin… you’ll always stay the same for me.”
Lena leaned on the railing, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLBrNxzHYmu
“Same how…?”
Damien smiled gently.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC5SOW6JSG1
“Innocent. Beautiful. And someone who cares.”
At his words, Lena paused. Just for a moment.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzy1J2FmLKj
Her eyes locked onto his — those honey-colored eyes, always intense, always holding more than they revealed.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbLquF6f0OL
She saw it then.
The exhaustion of the world, sitting quietly in them.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOrvpvmIwDG
He looked like a man who had fought life… and lost parts of himself along the way.
A part of her heart sank.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiS0DKox9wz
Damien didn’t seem angry with life —220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡD9HkmnhmYk
He seemed… disappointed by it.
And just like that, he turned away and continued down the stairs.
Outside, his driver stood respectfully beside the car, holding the back door open with a slight bow. But Lena’s eyes didn’t leave Damien. She watched him in silence —220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8dMM7tOQ98
Watched how even his departure carried weight.
His phone rang just as he reached the car. Without missing a beat, he answered it, raising the phone to his ear while slipping his coat onto one arm.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJi6MFOxB6s
Now in motion, he walked toward the car, head slightly bowed, speaking seriously into the call.
He was dressed in a sharp semi-formal outfit — a white dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, giving him an effortlessly sleek edge. The shirt tucked into black pinstriped trousers, paired with a black tie and a clean black wristwatch. His leather dress shoes shone with that quiet professionalism. One hand held the coat, the other gripped his phone — his voice low, steady, and all business.
Anyone who saw Lena at that moment would’ve believed it —220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrDERGgHiMc
That her life was finally complete.
Because now…220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ16d102oNBG
She had someone who cared for her.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUyHTBQi98N
Who respected her.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqoIwrPq3GH
Who protected her.
A man who loved her in silence…220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdXMQdpXIzp
And a best friend who had walked beside her since childhood.
Damien finished the call and stepped closer to the car. His eyes lifted one last time.
One final look at Lena.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu9zDiKefgF
One silent farewell.
And then… he was gone.
Out of that white mansion.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡW1PPQHmsBW
Out of her sight.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHzWojj1W99
But never… out of her story.
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Sitting back in his office chair, one hand resting on the table while the elbow of the other leaned against it, Greyson twirled a pen between his fingers. Across from him sat Kai Henderson, the Deputy Director of the agency, saying something in his usual calm voice. Greyson listened silently.
After a while, Kai picked up the files from the table and left the room, quietly stepping out of Greyson’s office.
Silence followed.
Greyson loosened the knot of his tie, then rolled down the sleeves of his dress shirt and buttoned them neatly. He walked over to the glass wall, slipping both hands into his pockets like always, his eyes fixed on the rushing world below from the great height of the building.
Greyson had two offices in the building. One on the 7th floor, where he worked daily. That was where the normal agency staff operated—managing the administrative and strategic affairs of the organization. But from the 8th to the 12th floors… it was a different world altogether.
Those top floors were home to cutting-edge weapons, the creation of new gadgets, and devices meant for large-scale hacking and cyber warfare. Everyone in the agency dreamed of working on these floors—but very few ever made it there.
Right now, Greyson was in his 12th-floor office. Unlike the one on the 7th floor, this office ran completely on AI and advanced digital systems. From the 8th floor to the 12th, the walls were made of such specialized glass that nothing from the inside was visible to the outside—but standing inside, you could see the breathtaking beauty of the city.
The floors from the 8th to the 12th were built around a central open space. Each floor had circular glass railings. If someone stood on the 8th floor and looked up, they could see all the way to the 12th. And if you stood by the railing on the 12th and looked down, you could see every floor below, every person deeply immersed in their high-security work.
It was a world of its own within these floors—an entire universe silently thriving in the air.
That’s what made this agency so powerful and elite.
Every individual who worked here, every piece of technology, every inch of security was unmatched in brilliance.
There were no age restrictions for working in this agency. As long as you were above 18, no matter how old you were—if you were intelligent and capable enough, you could apply. Once selected, candidates were closely observed for a certain period… and only after that, they were officially allowed to work.
Lower floors had plenty of personnel—but making it to the top floors required not just hard work, but smart work too. Only Greyson’s most trusted and exceptional people reached that level.
Nico Alvarez…
Yes, even he had made it here in the same way.
After a long moment of thought, Greyson called for Nico to be brought to his office. Then he sat back in his chair, picked up the iPad from the table, and leaned against the backrest.
He rested his elbow on the armrest, two fingers lightly touching his lips as he watched a video playing on the screen.
It showed Augustus West lying on the ground… and near him, Damien, dressed in all black with a black cap, holding a dagger in one hand—attacking him with savage brutality, blow after blow. Then, a man entered the study and spoke to Damien briefly, after which Damien escaped through the window.
Moments later, Lena appeared… and everything she had described, unfolded just as she’d said.
The first time Greyson had seen this video, even he was in shock.
But now… now he watched it in a deeply contemplative state.
The day he first saw it, Greyson had realized one thing clearly—220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhFBHSpSFWc
Damien West was alive.
And since that day, he had been waiting.
Waiting for the moment Damien would show himself to the world.
Greyson could have arrested him right then—he had enough evidence just from this video. But no…
Greyson wasn’t after a simple arrest.
He knew Damien was involved in much bigger crimes.
And when Greyson finally moved—he would put Damien behind bars in such a way…220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8KOgElxTXw
that even if Damien used every ounce of power and influence he had—220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrCdXK5N9TS
he still wouldn’t be able to break free.
A while later, Nico entered Greyson’s office. Without a word, he pulled the chair opposite Greyson’s desk and sat down. Greyson, holding an iPad in one hand, placed it on the table in front of him. He slowly removed the fingers resting on his lips, formed a thoughtful fist beneath his chin, and nodded toward the large screen on the table.
“Turn it on,” he said calmly.
Nico stood up, angled the screen toward himself, and powered it on. Greyson handed him a USB. Nico plugged it in and waited. Greyson adjusted the screen slightly so they could both watch what was about to unfold. Then he hit play.
The video began.
It was nighttime. The footage showed the agency’s weapons hall—the heavily secured room where their most powerful arms were stored. Nico quickly glanced at the timestamp. It was from the night before the mission where they went out to retrieve the evidence. His brows drew together in confusion as he looked at Greyson, who—rather than speaking—was silently watching the screen, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.
The weapons hall had countless lifts—but all were restricted to authorized personnel who could only access them via ID cards. But there was one elevator… one that could only be operated from Greyson’s personal office on the 12th floor. No one else had access to it.
The hall was drenched in shadow when the door to that private lift suddenly opened.
And someone stepped out.
They walked straight toward the rack of sniper rifles—the same rifles that had malfunctioned during the mission.
One by one, the figure picked them up, dismantled something inside each one… and left them all useless.
Nico's eyes widened in disbelief. He shifted between looking at the footage and staring at Greyson, who remained calmly seated, elbow resting on the armrest, chin on his knuckles, eyes fixed on the screen, intrigued.
Once every weapon was disabled, the person turned, walked back into the exclusive lift, and disappeared as the doors shut behind them.
The footage ended.
Stunned, Nico turned to Greyson, voice shaking slightly. 220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaG9f5fJZBZ
“B-But sir… only you can use that lift. And this footage… I checked it myself—it had been deleted. We never even found out who tampered with the rifles!”
Greyson’s lips curled into a knowing smile. He didn’t respond immediately, just kept his curious gaze on Nico, who was now putting the pieces together—slowly, painfully.
Then—
“WHAT—?” Nico shouted, but clamped a hand over his mouth, stunned by the realization. He looked at Greyson, eyes wide. 220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAnVKB9x9IS
“Wait... wait, are you serious? Was that actually you? Or is this just one of your twisted jokes?”
Greyson leaned back a little and calmly replied, “Since when do I joke with you, Nico?”
Nico stared at him, then glanced back at the paused footage.220Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6poqyFEfID
“But… why, sir? Our backup Team B—when they were ambushed—they could’ve been killed. Our agents only had standard firearms, and those were barely enough to survive.”
Greyson's lips twitched again into that faint, knowing smirk—the one he only wore when his plan had worked.
Opening a file in front of him, Greyson casually flipped through it and replied in a distracted tone, “And why would they kill them?”
Nico blinked. “Sir, because that was their mission. That’s what they were there to do!”
Greyson didn’t even glance up as he continued reading. “Exactly my point. Why would they kill them?”
Then he looked directly at Nico and finished the sentence, letting the weight of the words sink in:
“Why would they kill their own people, Nico?”
Nico froze.
And then, suddenly, everything clicked.
He jumped up from his chair again, overwhelmed. His brain screamed for a reset button. This infuriating director always did this to him—dropped clues like traps and then just waited for Nico to walk into them.
Pacing the room restlessly, Nico finally burst out, “So they were our own men! And you personally trained them… and even made them shoot at you to sell the act?”
By the end, his voice was so dramatic it was almost applause-worthy. Greyson watched him calmly, as if he had all the time in the world, nodding slightly before responding with a cold dose of truth.
“Our backup team was stopped by our people,” he said. “But the ones who attacked me and Team A... they weren’t mine.”
Nico paused mid-step. “Then who—?”
Greyson didn't reply with words. He simply held up the iPad again and tapped play.
The earlier video returned. And now, Nico saw it.
Augustus West.
Nico’s jaw dropped.
He knew that man—everyone in the agency did. Augustus West had always been like a gentle shade in the burning sun—soft-spoken, warm-hearted, respected by all.
Nico’s heart ached watching the video. His eyes moistened as he stared at the undeniable truth unfolding before him.
And when it ended, Nico set the iPad down gently. Lifting his eyes to Greyson, he asked nothing. He didn’t have to.
Greyson’s voice, quiet and unshaken, filled the silence.
“He’s the one who ordered the attack on me… and my team. I just needed to confirm how far he was willing to go.”
A pause.
“And now I know—he’s willing to go beyond any limit.”
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and then Add to home screen.