Chapter 62 MY NEPHEW.
\~~~DAMIEN.
The morning sun pierced the towering glass windows of my corner office on the 45th floor, bathing the sleek modern space in harsh, golden light. It had been exactly one day since Serena and I returned from our honeymoon, and the corporate grind had yanked me right back in.
A sharp knock echoed through the door, pulling me from the numbers. “Come in,” I called, my voice steady.
The door creaked open, and Ryan strode in like he owned the place.
Oh, my nephew.
His posture screamed the usual arrogance, his shoulders squared, and his chin lifted just a touch too high, his eyes flicking around the room as if assessing threats. Overconfident, maybe.
What a foolish boy.
I leaned back further in my chair, steepling my fingers, my expression a mask of calm. Inside, a cold fire ignited.
He stopped a few feet from the desk, tossing a thick file onto the surface with a thud.
“Sir,” he said, the title dripping with false respect. “I need your sign-off on the merger proposal. The board's waiting.”
I picked up the file without breaking eye contact, flipping it open.
There were pages of charts, projections, and legal jargon. Solid work, but sloppy in places and overly aggressive terms that could backfire in negotiations.
I scanned the executive summary, then the risk assessment, my mind cataloging flaws. “The valuation is inflated here,” I said evenly, tapping a section. “Page 47. You're banking on synergies that aren't guaranteed. Tone it down, or we'll lose leverage in the talks.”
Ryan shifted his weight, crossing his arms. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Noted. So, how was the honeymoon? Paradise, I bet. Especially with... a company like that,” his tone laced the words with a jab, and his eyes narrowed as he leaned in slightly. He was probing, testing if the scandal still stung.
I closed the file slowly, setting it aside. I rose from my chair, buttoning my suit jacket as I rounded the desk. The room felt smaller with each step, my presence filling the space.
Ryan's smirk faltered just a fraction, but he held his ground, his chin jutting out. I ignored it, circling to the sideboard for a glass of water, letting the silence stretch.
“Productive,” I replied finally, taking a sip. “That deal looks promising otherwise. Get it revised by the end of the day.” I set the glass down, turning to face him fully. Up close, his arrogance cracked and pupils dilated.
He nodded, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper. “Good to hear. Serena must've made it memorable.” Another prod, casual but pointed.
Enough games. I stepped closer, my voice dropping low. “Let's talk about that article. The one painting her as the villain. Ring any bells?”
Ryan's face hardened, but he laughed it off, “What? That trash online? Come on, Uncle. Why would I bother? No upside for me. Serena's your problem now. Married life suits you, huh?”
I let out a low, chuckle, more of a growl than amusement. “Really? You expect me to believe that?” I leaned closer, letting my presence dominate the space. My fingers brushed the file as I held it, an unspoken warning in the weight of my gaze.
“I said I wasn’t involved,” he repeated, sharper this time, trying to hide the unease creeping into his voice.
"Problems have solutions, Ryan. And if you're tangled in this, leaking stories, and stirring dirt, you're out of your depth,” My words were measured, “Serena is mine now. Touch her world again, manipulate the media, or even whisper a threat... and you'll lose it all.”
Ryan's jaw clenched, color rising in his cheeks. Anger flashed, bitter and raw.
“Lose it all? That is rich coming from you. This whole mess wouldn't exist if you hadn't swooped in and married her. What, couldn't resist your nephew's leftovers? She has always been trouble gold-digging, and playing both sides. You think you are saving her? You are just the next victim.”
He was pushing, trying to burrow under my skin and flip the script.
In one fluid motion, I closed the gap, my hand shooting out to grab his lapel. Fabric bunched under my fingers as I yanked him forward, our faces inches apart. His eyes widened, breath hitching. The arrogance shattered, replaced by a flash of fear.
“You touch her,” I growled, voice low and unyielding, “you lose it all. Everything you've built, everything you think you control is gone. Do you understand?”
The words hung heavy, laced with finality. I held him there a beat longer, letting the weight sink in. His pulse hammered against my grip, body rigid. He faltered then, nodding jerkily, his mouth opening but no retort coming. Tension peaked, the room electric with unspoken violence. This wasn't a bluff.
Ryan knew I'd end him without remorse.
I released him with a shove, stepping back. He stumbled slightly, straightening his jacket, his composure cracking like thin ice.
He stepped back, clearing his throat. “I… I get it,” he muttered, trying to sound calm. But his hands were shaking slightly and his bravado was gone.
I nodded slowly, keeping my eyes on him. “Good. Now, I suggest you focus on your work, and not on things that don’t concern you. If I ever find out that you’re behind any of this directly or indirectly, you won’t have a home to come back to.”
Ryan straightened his jacket, muttering under his breath, but he left the office quickly, closing the door behind him. I watched him go, every muscle in my body still tense, and my heart still pumping. The adrenaline was high, but necessary.
I sat back down, placing the file neatly on my desk. My hand flexed as I thought about how close this had been to spiraling into something far worse. I had watched him, studied him, and knew that Ryan would test limits, but now he knew the line and he had seen the edge of my patience.
Still, even after he left, a cold knot settled in my chest. It wasn’t just about me, it was about Serena.
About keeping her safe. That article, the comments, and stalking were proof that someone was willing to hurt her.
And I couldn’t allow it. Not ever.