Chapter 30

Damian’s POV

The following day began like a pressure cooker.

My alarm had gone off at six, but I’d already been awake, staring at the ceiling of my penthouse, mind reeling through checklists and unfinished thoughts. The Cosmo contract. The LA board. Kayna. And the dinner tonight.

Especially the dinner tonight. I dreaded it in advance.

We were not the regular cozy happy family so I wondered what this meeting my mom had set up was about.

By the time I made it into the office, my mood was a mix of exhaustion and sharp edges. Ava shadowed me with two phones, rattling off updates, but her words blurred together. My jaw was clenched, my suit jacket felt too tight across my shoulders, and the knot of tension between my temples refused to ease.

By mid-morning, I called Kayna into the conference room. She entered with her notebook clutched against her chest, eyes steady though her posture betrayed a flicker of nerves.

“Come in and close the door” I said.

She obeyed, the click of the latch sealing us off from the rest of the world.

I spread a file across the polished oak table. “Cosmo’s managing director wants us in Los Angeles in a week. Final terms, deeper dive into operations, all of it face-to-face.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. “That soon? I heard the contracts were already signed before you guys left Los Angeles.”

“Sooner than I’d like.” I leaned back in my chair, fingers steepled. “Which means we have no room for error. They’ll want to test the solidity of our projections. You’ll need to coordinate with their New York representatives before then. I need you to get their expectations, their questions, anything they’re likely to push in LA. We need to review our objectives towards the project and ensure we have all we need to execute.”

She scribbled notes with brisk efficiency, then glanced up. “Do you want me to set up that meeting?”

I shook my head. “It’s already arranged. Tomorrow, three p.m., Midtown. Carter Lawson’s deputy liaison officer will meet you there. Ava will communicate more of the details to you. You’ll go in my stead.”

Her pen stilled. “Alone?”

“Yes. Consider it a trial run. They already noticed you during the first presentation. If you handle this correctly, you’ll give us leverage before we even step on the plane.”

For a heartbeat, she looked taken aback. Then her lips pressed into a firm line and she nodded. “I’ll be ready.”

Something shifted in my chest at her resolve. Too often I forgot how untested she was when she walked into my office weeks ago. She wasn’t untested anymore.

Still, my gaze lingered a moment too long, and when her eyes met mine, the air between us tightened, heavy with something neither of us dared to voice.

I cleared my throat, turning back to the file. “Good. Keep your phone on. I’ll want updates immediately after.”

“Yes, Mr. Marshall.” Her voice was composed, but I didn’t miss the faint hitch in it.

As she gathered her things, I noticed the way her fingers trembled just slightly against the leather of her notebook. And when she reached for the door handle, I stopped myself from calling her name.

Because what would I have said? I trust you. More than I should.

The Day’s Weight was very evident. It felt like I was carrying a load of bricks on my shoulders.

The rest of the day blurred into an endless stream of emails, calls, and numbers that refused to add up. I found myself distracted, checking the time, my mind always circling back to the evening ahead.

Dinner with Mother. Dinner with Alex.

I hadn’t seen my brother in years. Not since Father’s funeral. That day was a blur of condolences and sharp suits, but I still remembered the look in Alex’s eyes—rage, thinly veiled, when the will was read by the family lawyer.

It had been me Father chose. Always me.

And tonight, we would finally stand across from each other again.

……

By the time I pulled into the long drive of the Family’s Estate ,Marshall estate, night had fallen. The house loomed in pale stone, all cold elegance and hidden knives.

I’d grown up here. Learned to measure silence, to read between clipped words, to understand that in this house, love was always conditional and approval even more so.

The valet opened my car door. I stepped out, shoulders squared, mask firmly in place.

Inside, the dining hall glowed under the massive chandeliers. Mother sat at the head of the table, regal as ever in her pearl-gray gown. And beside her—Alex.

He rose when he saw me, his mouth curving into a smile that held no warmth. “Good to see you again little brother.”

I stiffened. Alex was taller by an inch, broader through the shoulders, with the same Marshall jawline sharpened by bitterness. His hair was flecked with silver now, but his eyes—icy blue like mine—were unchanged.

“Alex,” I said evenly and just as sarcastically.

He clasped my hand, grip firm enough to bruise. A show of strength, the kind we’d been raised on. “Still playing king, I see.”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I turned to Mother, inclining my head. “You wanted us both here. Why?”

I could already tell that this dinner was going to be warfare

We sat. Silverware gleamed, wine glasses sparkled, but the air was poisoned from the start.

Mother folded her hands delicately. “The company is thriving, Damian. You’ve proven… capable. But family matters must be addressed. Alex’s return cannot be ignored.”

My fork stilled. “Family matters, or business matters?”

Alex chuckled low. “Does it matter? You’ve always blurred the two. Father spoiled you for it.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw. “Father chose me because I delivered. You were too busy gambling away his investments and carrying all the women you could find.”

His eyes flashed. “I was building networks, Damian. The kind of relationships you could never buy. But of course, you never saw beyond the numbers on the page.”

Mother’s gaze flicked between us, cool as glass. “Enough both of you. This is not a contest.”

“It’s always been a contest,” Alex snapped. “From the day Father decided Damian would inherit the lion’s share of everything . Tell me, brother—how does it feel to sit in a chair that was never meant for you?”

My hand tightened on my glass, but my voice was calm. “It feels earned.”

The silence that followed was razor-sharp.

Mother finally spoke, her tone cutting. “Your father believed Damian was ruthless enough to survive in a world you, Alex, could not. You were… sentimental. Soft. That is not necessarily a bad thing but it just wasn’t how your father operated.”

The word landed like a lash. I watched Alex’s jaw harden, watched the old wound tear open again.

“And you,” he sneered at me. “You think being Father’s favorite makes you invincible. But I know the cracks, Damian. I know the mistakes you’ve buried. One day, they’ll bury you.”

I leaned forward, my voice low. “Then you’d better pray you’re not standing too close when they do.”

I had reached my breaking point with this dinner.

Dinner dragged on, every word another weapon, every toast another thinly veiled threat. By dessert, my head ached with the weight of it.

Mother rose, her presence commanding silence. “You will both attend the industry gala next week. As brothers. The Marshalls must be seen united, no matter what shadows linger beneath the surface.”

Alex smirked. “Oh, we’ll be united, Mother. Won’t we, Damian?”

I forced a thin smile. “Of course.”

But inside, something dark stirred. Because I knew this wasn’t the end.

It was only the beginning.