Chapter 15 Damian
THIRD PERSON’S POV.
Damian drove Serena right up to her front steps, something Jonathan could never do, not even after two years of dating.
He had insisted on driving her himself, bundling his bodyguards into the other car while he took the wheels, just two of them.
The ride was quiet but not awkward. A calm, comfortable silence that gave Serena time to think.
Her first encounter with her family… Horace wasn’t as foolish as Jonathan. He’d notice the change in her immediately, she needed to be careful, measured, until she secured what she needed.
Until she got Damian to marry her.
She turned her gaze to Damian. He had his eyes fixed on the road, focused. He was driving above the speed limit but he drove with a lot of precision.
His jaw tightened as he made a turn. He was the same man she always knew…yet somehow distant like he was intentionally trying to build his walls.
He had spent years orbiting her, waiting. And now when she actually needed him to show her affection and attention he was refusing to look at her properly? She needed to pull him back in, fast.
“We are here,” Damian said, his voice interrupting her from her scheming.
“Thank you for driving me home and keeping me safe.” Her voice softened, like silk sheets.
Damian didn’t take the bait. “You’re drunk. I didn’t want anyone taking advantage of you.”
The car came to a park and almost immediately the butler, James, opened her door.
Serena stepped down, adjusting her oversized jacket. She hesitated, then tapped lightly on the window.
Damian rolled it down.
“So… I just realized I don’t have your number.”
Puzzled, he stared at her longer than he had intended to. She had never wanted his number before.
Quickly and almost nervously, she added, “I’m going to need your help planning Grandpa’s funeral, remember?”
A faint chuckle escaped him. “Sure.”
He took her phone, typed his number, handed it back.
“Sleep well, Serena.”
Before she could answer, he was already driving away. She smiled to herself. At least she got him to laugh.
The moment she stepped inside, chaos swallowed her. Butlers moving furniture. Maids dusting, rearranging, rushing. The house was in chaos.
“What’s going on?” she asked the nearest maid.
“Miss Serena, welcome home. Mr Gregory asked us to rearrange everything”
“Why?”
“He says he’s the one in charge now, and everything must be to his taste”
Serena scoffed, “And where exactly is my father?”
“He’s in the study ma’am.”
She turned toward the east wing of the house but the maid’s quiet voice stopped her.
“Miss Serena,he’s in Mr. Charles’ study. He said that’s his new office now.”
Something inside Serena snapped clean in half.
She stormed down the hall and pushed the door open. Horace stood inside with an artisan, her grandfather’s portraits wrapped and ready to be removed.
“Leave us,”voice was firm and commanding.
Both men turned to her.
“I said, leave us” she repeated.
The artisan looked to Horace. Who nodded slightly.
The artisan walked out of the study, shutting the door gently behind him.
Horace faced her “How dare you speak to my employee…”
“He’s not your employee, he is Grandfather's."
Horace’s eyes flared, “excuse me?”
Serena stuttered for a second. “I said.. he works for my grandfather. And this is his study.”
“Your grandfather is dead” Horace snapped.
“He’s not been dead a full twenty-four hours and you’re already trying to take his place. its like you were praying for him to die.”
She bit her tongue immediately, she shouldn’t have said that. She shouldn’t be challenging Horace but it was already too late. She could see the wheels turning in his head, he was calculating.
Serena,” he said slowly, voice dripping with warning, “I’m going to forget this display. I’ll call it grief. But don’t ever raise your voice at me again. I won’t be so forgiving.”
He watched her carefully. Too carefully. Something had changed in her. And he could smell it.
“I’m sorry. I got riled up seeing his things moved,” Serena said, lowering her head just enough to sell the moment. She needed to retreat before his curiosity sharpened further.
“I’m going to bed. I have a migraine from all the crying.”
She didn’t wait for his response. He wouldn’t have given one, he was too busy analyzing her, trying to locate the source of her sudden strength.
Once inside her room, Serena let out a heavy sigh. Her knuckles tightened and she scanned her room. Every move Horace made now would make her next steps harder. She couldn’t let him gain the upper hand.
In the mirror her reflection I stared back at her. No wonder, Damian’s eyes barely lingered.
Her reflection in the mirror confirmed why, wrapped in a cashmere jacket, dark jeans, no makeup, she blended into the shadows of the room unnoticed She looked… safe. Small. Forgettable.
That wouldn’t do.
Her new life needed a new face. A new presence. No more preppy innocence.
She texted Trisha to meet up the next day.
She was already dragging herself toward the shower when a soft knock echoed from the door.
She frowned and opened it.
Clara.
“Hey, Clar..” She didn’t finish before Clara yanked her into a tight hug.
“Serena… you left me to mourn alone. Grandpa died. We’re supposed to be together right now.”
Serena hugged her back, but she didn’t miss the calculation behind the hug and tears. Clara wasn’t grieving,she was checking. Observing for changes.
Serena relaxed into the embrace anyway, letting Clara soak her jacket with manufactured tears.
She would pretend too.
For now.