Chapter 10 The WILL
Damien still had that sheepish smile on his face as he stared down at the file in his hand. The late Ambrose Moreau Will. The real one.
Somehow, he had found a way to extract it from Talia’s wardrobe while she was drunk-hazed.
He had his plan intact—to give Seraphina this real will and win her heart again. He would even lie to Seraphina that he teamed up with Talia so that he could help Seraphina get the original Will after Talia told him about it.
Talia wouldn’t have told him if she didn’t need him for her deadly mission. He had asked why Seraphina’s thumbprint was the access to her father’s vault and not Talia’s. She had lied at first but when he took her to a high-function party, he had gotten her drunk on purpose and asked again, and that’s how Talia told him about the Will.
He had no idea who Seraphina was at first, never even heard about her until he had to. Talia had his secret in hand. Not doing what she wanted meant him risking his secrets exposed. It would be bad for the press and business. His father would disown him like he had disowned Julian. That was his worst nightmare.
Talia also told him that Seraphina faked her death. According to her, someone who was close to Seraphina told her but Damien didn’t care. Once upon a time, he couldn’t wait to get Seraphina to travel down with him to Las Vegas so that she could thumb the vault, but then he met her…
The story had changed. He was still going to carry out his mission but at some point, he had almost forgotten he was in Seattle because of it. He liked her despite himself and he let himself enjoy the pleasure of being with her even as he pretended to be a client at the firm she worked.
Seraphina was warm, fierce, and beautiful. He didn’t care at first, but as he planned dates, talked to her often and spent more time with her, he had gotten to know her better. He had even liked her son. He once joked that he looked like him, because he strangely did.
He hated that he knew her better. He didn’t want to care. He wasn’t a good person, but somehow, Seraphina’s charm was irresistible.
Even right now, he didn’t plan to be with her for love, he had his plans. Seraphina would believe his cooked-up story, she was that compassionate or so he thought; then he wouldn’t waste time in proposing marriage to her after he does that. He will own the Moreau and Thorne dynasty and Sera will birth him an heir. He will be a greater Tycoon, better than his father.
That was what he cared about. The power.
As for his secret that Talia knew about, he knew how to handle that. All he had to do was find something to blackmail her with and Oh God, was there not a lot?
His thumb hovered over Seraphina’s contact as he made the decision to call her right away and let her know. But before he could, his father’s incoming call replaced Seraphina’s name on the screen.
He contemplated ignoring it because he wasn’t in the mood to talk business, but then he remembered that his father had attended the Moreau’s journal auction. Maybe he was calling to give him good news. A news he was expecting anyway, because winning the journal means their family name got more medals to it.
He picked.
“Hey Dad, Congratulations. I’m sure you got the journal? ”
“No. Your bastard of a brother got it.” Damien leaned up from the driver’s seat.
“What are you talking about?”
“Julian was there. That boy dared to compete with me over the journal! I had a feeling he wouldn’t stop bidding for it so I gave up before he embarrassed me any further”
Damien blinked. His jaw clenched. Had Talia been right when she said she saw Julian and he was with…
Julian had been away for five years. What had he come to do in Vegas? His heart flipped.
“Calm down, Dad. You mean Julian is in Vegas?”
“Are you dumb!? Or do you mean he hasn’t called you? Because I’m calling you so that you can tell him to release the journal to me. I had every plan to win it tonight but he had to spoil everything. You should see how your brother was talking to me. He called me Victor!” Victor Thorne’s voice crackled with rage.
“Okay okay, Dad. Relax. I don’t have his contact. Remember that he’s been away for five years? I will do something about this.”
“You better or I will make him regret coming out of hiding!” Victor ended the call.
For the next five minutes, Damien remained frozen in the car, heart beating wildly. Sweat coated his forehead. His mind spiraled. He thought Talia was just being drunk and bluffing.
Why was Seraphina in Vegas? Has she decided to come back? Did she come back with her son? Was it because of the vault?
Many questions ran through his head, but he wouldn’t get answers if he allowed the questions to fester in his head so he decided to call the only person he could possibly access at the moment to get answers.
He dialed Seraphina’s contact.
She didn’t pick on the first ring. Then it rang for the second time and she picked. His heart stalled in his chest.
“Sera, thank God you picked my call. Is it true you are in Las Vegas?” He could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as he waited for her to speak.
But it wasn’t the comforting feminine voice he had grown used to for the past one year that answered, it was a masculine one—an unmistakably familiar voice that sounded like his brother’s.
“She’s asleep. Isn’t it weird to be calling your ex by this time of the night?” Julian’s cold and unflinching voice said over the phone.
Damien forgot to breathe for a moment.
A slow silence stretched between the two brothers, heavy with history neither of them wanted to relive.
“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” Damien muttered, his voice suddenly low, deadly. “I can see you know about us already. How much did she tell you?”
Julian chuckled. It was dry and hollow. “You’re the last person I want to engage in an interrogation with, twin brother.” His voice was distant and mocking, then it turned deadly. “But listen carefully, Damien. Don’t ever call her again unless you have a death wish.”
Click.
Julian ended the call before Damien could breathe another word.
He lowered the phone from his ear, fingers twitching with rage. The will lay open beside him on the passenger seat, pages rustling faintly from the effect of the wind blowing outside.
Then he punched the stirring wheel hard. “Fuck!”