Chapter 52 Chapter 52
Hailey’s POV
I stared at my phone, Detective Morrison’s number still displayed on the screen, my finger hovering over the callback button.
Was this a trap? Or was she telling the truth about catching someone in my apartment?
After everything that had happened, the shootings, the leaks, the constant threats, I couldn’t tell anymore what was real danger and what was manipulation.
I was too scared to go outside. Too terrified to step beyond the secure walls of this penthouse where at least Damien’s guards could protect me.
Without saying another word, I hung up on Detective Morrison mid-sentence.
Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with a text.
‘Detective Morrison. I understand you’re frightened, but we really need to talk. This is important.’
I typed back quickly, my hands shaking. ‘I’m too busy right now. I’ll contact you when I can.’
Her response came back within seconds, and the words made my blood run cold.
‘I know there’s something you’re not telling us.’
I stared at that message for a long moment, panic clawing at my throat.
What did she know? What had she figured out? Was she investigating Damien more seriously now?
Without thinking it through, I switched off my phone completely, watching the screen go dark.
I needed a shower. Needed to clear my head. Needed to wash away the anxiety that clung to my skin like oil.
I spent a long time under the hot water, letting it beat down on my shoulders, trying to organize the chaos in my mind. The conversation with Damien last night. The revelation about Elena’s death being planned. My father’s possible connection. Detective Morrison’s investigation closing in.
Everything was spiraling out of control.
Eventually, the water ran cold, forcing me out. I dressed carefully, moving slowly because of my cast, and made my way downstairs.
My stomach was growling despite the anxiety, reminding me I’d barely eaten yesterday.
But as I approached the dining room, I heard voices and realized I wasn’t going to have a quiet breakfast alone.
I paused at the doorway, taking in the scene.
Damien sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as he methodically cut into his food. Isabella was to his right, perfectly composed as always, sipping coffee and reading something on her tablet. And Sophia was across from her grandmother, pushing food around her plate without actually eating any of it.
All three of them looked up when I entered, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
“Good morning,” I said quietly, moving to take a seat as far from everyone as possible.
No one responded.
I served myself some fruit and toast, my appetite already fading under the weight of all that silent hostility.
Damien hadn’t looked at me once, his eyes fixed on his plate like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
Sophia was glaring at me with open hatred, her bruised neck.
And Isabella watched me with that cold assessment she always had, like I was a problem she was calculating how to solve.
I’d barely taken two bites when Sophia suddenly stood up, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“I can’t do this,” she announced, her voice tight. “I can’t sit here and look at him,” she gestured toward Damien, “or this wench,” she added, pointing at me with disgust.
“Sophia,” Damien said, his tone warning.
“No,” she interrupted. “I’m done pretending everything’s fine. I’m done acting like she,” another pointed gesture at me, “isn’t destroying this family.”
She stormed out, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
The silence that followed was somehow worse than her outburst.
Isabella set down her coffee cup with deliberate care. “Well done, Damien,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve managed to alienate your only daughter. Quite the accomplishment for a single father.”
“Mother,” Damien said, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t.”
“I’m simply stating facts,” Isabella continued, undeterred. “Your daughter can barely stand to be in the same room as you. She’s acting out, putting herself in danger, all because you’re too distracted by your new… project,” she glanced at me with thinly veiled contempt, “to actually parent her.”
I kept my eyes on my plate, trying to make myself invisible while Isabella’s subtle shade cut through the air.
“My relationship with my daughter is none of your concern,” Damien said coldly.
“Everything about this family is my concern,” Isabella countered. “I didn’t build this empire just to watch you tear it apart over some college girl who….”
She was cut off by the sound of heavy footsteps and raised voices from the entrance hall.
We all turned toward the commotion.
Two of Damien’s guards appeared in the doorway, dragging someone between them. The person was on their knees, forced into a submissive position, with a dark cloak wrapped over their head obscuring their identity.
“Boss,” one of the guards said, his voice tense. “We caught this one trying to breach the perimeter.”
The woman remained silent as the guards held her in place, her defiant eyes sweeping across the room, taking in each of us with calculated assessment.
I tried to piece together what she could possibly be guilty of, why she’d been caught trying to breach the perimeter, why she’d fought so hard to get in here.
“She kept asking for someone,” one of the guards said. “Wouldn’t tell us why she was here, just kept demanding to see ‘Mrs. Cooper.’”
My heart stopped.
Mrs. Cooper?
That was my mother’s name. Barbara Cooper.
But how could this woman possibly know my mother? Why would she be asking for her at Damien’s house?
The woman finally spoke, her voice muffled slightly by the cloak still partially covering her face. “I’m Barbara Cooper. I’m here to see my daughter.”
The world tilted sideways.
“Mom?” I gasped, standing up so fast my chair nearly toppled backward.
The guards looked at Damien, who gave a sharp nod.
They immediately released her, pulling the cloak fully away and cutting the bindings on her wrists.
My mother stood up slowly, rubbing her wrists where the restraints had left red marks, and when she looked at me, I saw fear and determination warring in her eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, rushing toward her. “How did you even find this place?”
“I’ll explain everything,” she said, but her eyes were scanning the room, assessing the guards, Damien, Isabella with visible wariness.
Damien stepped forward, his expression tight. “Mrs. Cooper, I apologize for the rough introduction. We’ve been doubling security measures due to recent threats. If I’d known you were coming….”
“You would have what?” my mother interrupted, her tone sharp. “Let me walk right in? I had to fight my way past your guards because no one would listen when I said I needed to see my daughter.”
“That’s protocol,” Damien said evenly. “We don’t let anyone through without verification, regardless of who they claim to be.”
Isabella, who’d been watching this exchange with growing irritation, suddenly stood up with a dismissive wave of her hand.
As she passed my mother on her way to the door, she leaned in and whispered just loud enough for us to hear, “The gold digger brought her instruments.”