Chapter 76

Chapter 76

Damien’s POV

I had been silent throughout that morning, pretending to read through documents on my tablet while my mind wandered far from business.

The news was everywhere—Ava’s name, her face, the scandal. A twisted story created out of nothing, spreading through social media like wildfire. And Vanessa… of all people. She made sure to appear devastated, outraged, heartbroken on screen, but the look in her eyes when she spoke? That wasn’t painful. It was exciting. Triumph. It was as though someone handed her the opportunity she had been waiting for.

And I noticed.

I noticed everything.

The way she lingered too long on her words. The way she played up her emotions. The way she subtly insinuated blame without directly saying it. And the way she watched me, waiting—anticipating my reaction. She was too eager. Too prepared. Too polished for a woman who claimed to be “shocked.”

Vanessa never acted out of impulse. Whatever she did was calculated, rehearsed, perfected.

Which meant one thing.

She knew about the story beforehand.

Or worse… she was part of the plan.

My jaw tightened. My hands curled around the edges of my wheelchair armrest. I knew how this world functioned. People smelled wealth and power and suddenly, everyone wanted a piece of you, even if they had to tear someone else apart to get it. But this one—this mess—was personal. It wasn’t just my name being tossed around. It was Ava’s. Ava, who never even asked to step into my life. Ava, who I forced into this complicated arrangement. Ava, who was now being dragged by the media like she was some trophy scandal.

A soft shuffle caught my attention. I looked up just in time to see Ava slipping quietly past the staircase, holding her jotter against her chest like a secret. She looked tense… frightened… but determined. And when she turned the corner, heading toward the back kitchen, I understood exactly what she was trying to do.

So she was going to Sandra.

The chef.

The only staff I trusted completely.

Ava must be desperate.

I waited a few seconds, then maneuvered my wheelchair silently toward the hallway, careful not to alert the patrolling guards or the nosy staff. I stopped right before the kitchen entrance, shielded by the wall, and listened.

“Aunty Sandra… please… I just need one minute. Just one minute to make a call.”

Her voice was trembling. She sounded like she’d been crying for hours. My chest tightened painfully.

Sandra whispered back, “Ava, you know you’re not supposed—”

“Please. I can’t reach my mom. I can’t reach Lila. I just want to know if they’re okay.”

There was a pause. I could almost feel Sandra’s hesitation, the internal war between following my rules and comforting a young girl who clearly needed help.

Then Sandra sighed. “Okay. Just one call. Be fast.”

My heart cracked a little. Ava shouldn’t have to beg someone for something so simple. And the worst part? It was my fault she didn’t even have her own phone to reach her family. I took it because I thought it would keep her safe from threats… but somehow, someone still found a way to attack her.

A click, then a ring tone.

Ava’s voice dropped lower. “Lila…? Oh, thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

Her voice broke then. A sob. And it stabbed me in the gut harder than I expected.

I closed my eyes and listened.

“Yes, I saw it… No, none of it is true. I swear.”
“…My mom? She’s okay?”
“…Thank God.”
“…Lila, please don’t let her see the videos. If she gets stressed—”
“…Okay. Thank you.”

The call ended with Ava whispering a shaky “I love you,” and then silence. A silence filled with relief and yet, unbearable sadness.

Sandra murmured, “Ava, it will be fine.”

But Ava didn’t respond. I imagined her wiping her face quickly, hiding her tears, trying to gather composure because she knew she would eventually walk back into a house filled with sharks.

I backed away before she saw me and rolled toward my study, every muscle in my body stiff with anger and regret. I wasn’t upset that she made the call. Hell, I would have handed her my phone myself if she had asked. No… what tore me apart was the fact that she felt she had to sneak to do it. That she believed I wouldn’t care enough to help her. That she thought she had to suffer alone.

Someone not only snatched her peace but also weaponized her vulnerability.

And whoever was behind this—media or not—someone wanted Ava destroyed.

I parked in front of my desk, grabbed my private phone and dialed a number I rarely used, one kept exclusively for situations where reputation was under attack.

“Hello, Chief,” came the voice on the other line. “Long time.”

“I need a favor,” I said, my voice low and controlled, though inside I was boiling. “Someone in the media released a story about a woman living in my mansion.”

“Oh… I’ve seen it,” the man replied carefully. “It’s spreading very fast.”

“I want to know who published it first,” I said. “Not the outlets. The person behind it. The source. The editor. The anonymous submitter. Every single person who touched the story.”

A pause. Then a sharp inhale. “You think someone close leaked it?”

“I don’t think,” I said coldly. “I know.”

I leaned back, tapping my fingers on the armrest. Images of Vanessa flashed through my mind—her smiling too sweetly, her voice rehearsed, her tears too convenient.

“Move fast,” I said. “And do it quietly.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get back to you within the hour.”

I ended the call.

Outside the window, the sky was grey, heavy with the promise of rain. It mirrored the storm inside me. Ava was somewhere in this mansion right now, thinking I might believe Vanessa over her. Thinking I might see her as a liar. Thinking she was alone.

She wasn’t.

Not anymore.

Not as long as she was under my roof.

I rubbed my temples, frustration tightening my chest. My own reputation was on the line too—every article was spinning the narrative as though I was hiding some secret romance, or worse, as though I was being taken advantage of.

But it wasn’t my reputation that bothered me.

It was hers.

Ava didn’t deserve this. She was innocent in all of this. And though I didn’t know when it happened, somewhere along the line… I began to care about how she felt. How she breathed. How she cried.

Especially how she cried.

I couldn’t erase the sound of her voice from my mind.

“…My mom? She’s okay?”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my desk, breathing deeply. The guilt was suffocating.

I should have protected her better.

Someone attacked her—and by extension, they attacked me.

And I would not rest until I found out who.

Not for my sake.

But for Ava.

Because no one, absolutely no one, hurts someone under my protection and walks away untouched.

Not in my world.

Not anymore.