Chapter 67 Chapter Sixty-seven

Chapter 67 Chapter Sixty-seven
Chapter 67

The news broke on a Tuesday morning, disrupting whatever fragile peace Damian had managed to cultivate.

He had barely hung up his coat when his new executive assistant, Ethan, slipped into the office. He wasn't holding the usual morning schedule; instead, he carried a heavy manila folder, his expression tight enough to put Damian on alert.

"You look like you're carrying a bomb," Damian said, reaching for his coffee. "What's wrong?"

Ethan shut the heavy oak door behind him, ensuring privacy. "We have a massive hitch with the Kessler Consortium."

Damian’s jaw tightened. They had spent the last six months ironing out the wrinkles of this European investment deal. It was supposed to be the Cross Group’s golden ticket into the international market. "What do they want now?"

"A face-to-face sit-down in Zurich," Ethan said. He hesitated, shifting his weight before delivering the real blow. "And they've made it a strict condition that both the Cross Group and the Voss Group attend. Together."

The room went dead silent.

"No," Damian said flatly.

"Damian, I knew you'd hate it, but—"

"I am not getting on a plane with Selene."

"The consortium thinks the joint venture is still solid," Ethan pressed, his voice dropping. "On paper, the partnership hasn't been legally dissolved yet."

Damian rubbed the bridge of his nose, a headache already blooming behind his eyes. Months ago, before his personal life erupted into chaos, a joint global expansion between Cross and Voss made perfect sense. Now, the thought of it made his stomach turn. But international investors only care about the numbers, and right now, those numbers were staggering. Walking away meant flushing hundreds of millions down the drain and stalling their growth for years.

"Find another way," Damian muttered.

Before Ethan could argue, a sharp knock cut them off. Cole, Damian’s head of security, stepped in. "Sir, Mr. Rodriguez is downstairs. He’s coming up."

A moment later, Rodriguez walked in, bypassing any attempt at small talk. He looked exactly like a man who spent his life running industries, unshakeable and entirely unbothered by anyone else’s comfort. He nodded at Ethan, who took the cue to exit quietly.

"I hear Zurich is lovely this time of year," Rodriguez said, sitting down across from Damian.

"I'm not going."

"You don't have a choice," Rodriguez countered calmly.

"I am not spending three days pretending Selene and I are on speaking terms just to placate a few Swiss bankers."

"This isn't an emotional crisis, Damian. It's business."

Damian let out a dry, bitter laugh. "You sound just like my father."

"Your father knew when to swallow his pride to protect the empire," Rodriguez shot back, leaning forward. "You have a company to protect. The consortium doesn't care about your messy divorce or your personal grievances. They want stability. If they sense the foundation is cracked, they’ll pull their capital."

"Let them."

"If they walk, your competitors win, your stock plummets, and you’ll spend the next fiscal year explaining to angry shareholders why your ego cost them millions. Don't let your feelings ruin what you built."

Later that afternoon, Damian walked into his home earlier than usual. Upstairs, Aria was clipping the stems of fresh eucalyptus, placing them into a glass vase. She brightened when she saw him, but the warmth faded the second she caught the tension in his shoulders.

"You're home early," she said, setting her shears down. "Is everything okay?"

"I have to take an unexpected trip," Damian said, joining her by the window. "Europe. Tomorrow morning."

Aria paused, a shadow falling over her face. "That's incredibly sudden."

"It is."

She looked at him, trying to read the hesitation in his eyes. "Who else is going?"

Damian didn't look away, but the pause before he spoke was deafening. "Selene has to be there."

The air left the room. Aria’s grip tightened on a flower stem until it snapped. She trusted Damian implicitly, he had proven his loyalty a thousand times over. But Selene was an entirely different story. Selene was the woman who had tried to sabotage her career, orchestrated her kidnapping, and literally pushed her at a high-society gala. Selene was a predator who didn't understand the word no.

"I hate this," Aria admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

"So do I," Damian said, taking her hands in his. "It’s strictly transactional. The investors will kill the deal if both CEOs aren't at the table. It’s three days of meetings, and then I’m back."

He gently caught her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I married you, Aria. I chose you. A business trip isn't going to change that."

Aria swallowed the lump in her throat and managed a small nod. "Just come home in one piece."

On the other side of the city, Selene was staring at a flight itinerary handed to her by her father. A slow, venomous smile crept onto her lips as she saw the name printed right below hers.

"So, he actually agreed to go," she murmured.

"He didn't have a choice, and neither did you," Mr. Voss warned, his voice cutting through her daydream. He grabbed her arm just tightly enough to get her attention. "Listen to me very carefully, Selene. This trip is strictly about salvaging our international footprint. You are not going to Switzerland to play games or chase a married man."

Selene pulled her arm away, her smile vanishing into a cold, blank mask. "I know what’s at stake, Father."

Mr. Voss watched her walk out, completely unconvinced. He knew that look. Whenever Selene got that hyper-focused glint in her eyes, disaster usually followed.

The next morning, the gray dawn illuminated a private tarmac. Damian arrived first, flanked by his assistant and a lean security detail. He stood near the boarding stairs, watching the horizon.

Ten minutes later, a sleek black SUV pulled up. Selene stepped out, looking effortlessly chic in a cream pantsuit and oversized dark sunglasses. She paused at the base of the stairs, her eyes meeting Damian’s through the dark lenses.

Neither offered a greeting. The silence between them was thick enough to suffocate, a palpable wave of hostility that made the flight crew visibly uncomfortable.

His assistant leaned in toward Damian as they watched her board. "This is going to be a brutal flight."

"It'll be a fast trip," Damian muttered, following her up.

As the jet’s engines began to whine and the aircraft taxied toward the runway, neither of them noticed the lone figure standing near the tinted glass of the executive terminal.

The man watched the plane lift off into the gray clouds, pulled a burner phone from his jacket, and dialed a single number.

"They're in the air," he said quietly.

A brief pause, then a gravelly voice responded from the receiver. "Good. Proceed with the next phase."

The call clicked shut. The man dropped the phone into his pocket, turned on his heel, and melted seamlessly into the airport crowd, leaving behind the dark certainty that Zurich was going to be anything but a routine business meeting.