Chapter 77

Chapter 77

Damien’s POV

The moment my private line rang again, I already sensed it

I answered on the first ring.

“Talk to me,” I said sharply.

The media specialist—one of the very few people I trusted—wasted no time.

“Sir, I traced the original leak. The IP location was encrypted at first, but I followed the internal trail. It wasn’t from an outsider. It came from someone who knew Ava’s schedule, her presence in your mansion, and who wanted the scandal to explode overnight.”

My grip tightened on the phone.

“Say it,” I demanded.

A small sigh crackled over the line. “It was Vanessa. She sent the information anonymously to three entertainment blogs and tipped a reporter directly.”

A long, cold silence followed.

Not a shock.

Not confusion.

Just pure, controlled fury.

Vanessa. My ex. A woman who once claimed she loved me. A woman who cried at the hospital after my accident but left the moment she realized her designer heels were more important than my wheelchair. A woman who didn’t just want me back—she wanted my attention, my pain, my downfall… and now, Ava’s too.

I swallowed the burning rage in my throat. “Take the news down.”

“Yes, sir. Already in process. I’ll pay off whoever needs to be paid off. Within two hours it will vanish.”

“Make it one hour,” I snapped.

“Yes, sir.”

I hung up.

My hands were trembling slightly, something that rarely happened to me. Anger had always been an old companion, but this—this was volcanic. It wasn’t because my reputation was dragged. It wasn’t even because my business partners were calling nonstop, asking if I was hiding a mistress in my mansion.

No.

This was because Ava—quiet, innocent Ava—had been thrown to the wolves for a woman's selfish pride. And the thought of Ava crying earlier, begging Lila on the phone for reassurance, replayed in my mind like a knife twisting deeper each second.

Enough was enough.

Dinner time came too quickly.

The dining room was glowing with soft chandelier lights, plates arranged neatly, the long table set for elegance. But the atmosphere? It was suffocating—too many eyes, too many whispers. I knew most of them were waiting to see how I would react. Waiting to see if the billionaire cripple would keep silent while his house turned into a circus.

Ava sat at the far end, head bent over her plate. She barely lifted her fork. She looked exhausted, fragile… hurt. She hadn’t even wanted to come, but Sandra insisted, telling her she needed to eat something.

I watched her for a moment—her trembling fingers, the way she avoided everyone’s gaze. My heart clenched.

Vanessa walked in late, of course. Dramatic entrance as usual. High heels clacking, perfume invading the air, fake smile perfectly painted.

“Damien,” she said sweetly, brushing her hair back. “I’ve missed you today. I even brought your favorite wine—”

The sound I made wasn’t even a response—it was the calm before destruction.

I waited until she sat. I waited until everyone had a forkful of food. I waited until the room was filled with the illusion of normalcy.

Then I wheeled forward.

“Vanessa.”

She smiled, expecting tenderness. Expecting softness. Expecting the Damien she used to manipulate.

Instead, all she got was the Damien she should have feared.

She opened her mouth to speak again, but before a single word escaped—
SLAP.

My hand landed across her face with a force that echoed. Her wine glass rattled. A few gasps burst across the dining hall. Someone dropped their cutlery.

Ava’s head snapped up in shock.

Vanessa froze, her palm flying to her cheek. “D-Damien?” she stuttered. “You hit me?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t do worse,” I said, my voice dangerously low.

“Wh—what is my offense?” she demanded, horrified.

I leaned in, my eyes cold enough to freeze the air between us.

“You leaked a fabricated story to the media. You dragged Ava’s name into the mud for your cheap jealousy. You sabotaged my home. And now my business deals are being questioned because you wanted attention.”

Her mouth fell open. “Damien, how can you say that? You think I would—”

“I don’t think,” I cut her off. “I know.”

The entire table was silent.

Just my voice.

Just her shame.

“You will go public,” I ordered. “You will release a statement tonight. You will apologize for spreading nonsense. You will clear Ava’s name. And you will fix every bit of the damage you caused.”

She shook her head vigorously. “Damien, please… Do you know how this will make me look? Do you know how embarrassing—”

“You should have considered that before you ruined someone else’s life,” I snapped.

Ava’s fork slipped from her hand. Her eyes reflected fear, confusion, and something else… disbelief that someone would defend her publicly. My chest tightened again, but I forced myself to stay focused on Vanessa.

“This isn’t about embarrassment,” I continued. “This is about accountability. If you don’t fix what you did, I will personally ensure you never step foot in any social circle in this city again.”

Someone coughed nervously in the background.

Vanessa looked around, searching for sympathy, but everyone avoided her eyes. No one dared to stand against me.

She turned to me again, her voice small. “Why… Why are you suddenly protecting her? Who is she to you? Why would you slap me because of her?”

I locked eyes with her.

“She is under my care. And that is enough.”

The room stilled.

Ava’s breath hitched, barely audible.

Vanessa blinked rapidly, realizing I wasn’t bluffing. Realizing, maybe for the first time, that the version of Damien she once knew no longer existed.

“This is unbelievable,” she whispered. “You’ve changed.”

I gave her a cold, humorless smile. “No. I just finally see you clearly.”

Her eyes filled with tears—whether from pain, humiliation, or regret, I didn’t care. She stood abruptly, chair scraping harshly against the floor.

“You will regret this!” she shouted, pointing directly at Ava. “This girl—she’s ruining you!”

I slammed my palm on the table. “Say one more word about her,” I warned, “and you will walk out of this mansion with security dragging you.”

Silence.

Vanessa trembled, realizing the line she crossed. Without another word, she stormed out of the dining hall, heels clicking violently against the marble floor.

The door slammed shut.

The room exhaled.

Sandra cleared her throat, trying to return to normalcy. Cutlery moved again. Low murmurs resumed. But my focus drifted back to Ava.

She wasn’t touching her food anymore.

Her eyes were glossy, wide, confused—like she wasn’t sure if she deserved to be defended. Like she wanted to disappear.

I wanted to tell her she was safe now.

I wanted to tell her that none of this was her fault.

I wanted to tell her that someone finally—finally—chose her side.

But all I said was, “Eat, Ava. You need your strength.”

Her gaze softened. She nodded slowly and picked up her fork again. For the first time today, she took a real bite.

And for the first time… I felt like I had done something right.