Chapter 10 ARROGANT MAN.

Chapter 10 ARROGANT MAN.
Isabel’s POV)

My mother’s voice still rang in my ear when I reached the west-wing corridor.

“You owe that family everything,” she had said. “Remember who refused you first, and who settled for you.”

I had ended the call before she could finish. The words clung anyway—acid on the inside of my throat.

Damien’s door was open. Of course it was. Orders or not, he knew I would come.

He didn’t look surprised when I entered. Just lifted his eyes from the screen. “I told you not to.”

“I wasn’t in the mood to be listen to you.”

“Clearly.”

I dropped my folder on the desk a little too hard. “Let’s work.”

He watched me, unreadable. “You’re angry.”

“You’re observant.”

“Your mother?”

The question hit too close. I gave a humorless laugh. “You really think you can read me that easily?”

“I don’t have to read you. You have everything written on your face.”

He turned the monitor toward me. “Sit. I need your input on this.”

Numbers filled the screen—columns of red bleeding into black. The Thorne integration model. Adrian’s project.

“This was Adrian’s section,” I said.

“It’s wrong,” Damien replied. “He forced the merger logic. It collapses halfway through.”

I leaned closer. He was right. The equations looped back on themselves, chasing profit that didn’t exist.

“He signed off on this,” I said.

“Father hasn’t noticed yet.” Damien’s tone stayed calm. “We’ll fix it before he does.”

We. He said it like a fact, not a question.

I hesitated. “If we change the sequence, Adrian will know.”

“He’ll assume he’s a genius and thank you for it.”

I almost smiled, but stopped myself. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

His jaw tightened. “I protect him more than anyone else does.”

“That’s not protection. That’s cleaning up his mess.”

“Same thing, in this family.”

He was already rewriting formulas, his hands moving fast on his keyboard. The arrogance I usually hated looked different now.

I tried to follow his logic and couldn’t. “You’re rebuilding the whole structure?”

“Just the foundation.”

“You’ll lose hours.”

He didn’t glance up. “I’ve lost worse.”

Silence stretched between us, filled only by the faint click of keys. I watched his reflection in the glass—shoulders drawn back, eyes narrow in concentration.

It struck me then. This was why Mr. Sterling relied on him. Not because he was obedient, but because he was smart and efficient.

I hated that I saw it. Hated more that part of me admired it.

When he finally stopped typing, he turned his screen to me—numbers realigned, balanced.

“There,” he said. “Fixed.”

“How did you—”

He cut me off with a look. “You don’t need to understand the math. Just the pattern.”

He pushed the chair back so I could see. My hand brushed the edge of the desk, “This will work?” I asked.

“It’ll save the contract.”

“Adrian will take the credit.”

“Of course.”

“You don’t mind?”

His mouth twitched. “Not everything needs appreciation for”

That answer unsettled me more than the work itself. “You do all this, and he stands in the light for it.”

“Someone has to.”

I searched his face for irony, but there wasn’t any. Only exhaustion carefully expressed as control.

“So you let everyone think you’re the villain,” I said quietly. “Why?”

He leaned back, folding his arms. “Because every story needs one. It keeps the others comfortable.”

The words hung there and for the first time since I had walked in, the anger that had driven me here began to dissolve, replaced by something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

I stared at the numbers again, anything to avoid his eyes. “You just saved the entire deal.”

He shrugged. “It’s what I do.”

“You mean fix what your brother breaks?”

“I mean make sure my father never has to choose between his sons.”

That stopped me. For a moment, I saw the entire machine of this family—the politics, the expectations, the quiet sacrifices no one thanked him for.

I wanted to say something honest. Instead, I said, “You make it sound noble.”

“It isn’t.”

His tone was flat, but the truth in it hit harder than arrogance ever could.

When I finally looked at him, the distance between us had changed. Not smaller, just charged differently.

He studied me in return, a faint crease between his brows. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

“Whether I misjudged you.”

His eyes flickered, something like surprise breaking through. “And?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

For a second, he laughed. Just enough that everything didn’t feel too much.

Then he looked away, clearing his throat. “Send the corrected file to Father. Use Adrian’s credentials.”

I hesitated. “That’s forgery.”

“And?.”

I stared at him, half-expecting the smirk, but there wasn’t one. Just confidence, the kind that made you want to follow even when you knew better.

I did as he said. The document uploaded, the error erased, the company saved—none of it would ever have my name on it.

When the confirmation pinged, he leaned back again. “Done.”

“You were right,” I said finally.

“About?”

“Control.”

He glanced up. “You found some?”

“Maybe just a little.”

His expression softened, only slightly. “Keep it.”

For a moment, we just looked at each other. No challenge this time. No game. Just both of us staring at each other.

A knock shattered it.

Adrian’s voice followed, too bright, too loud. “You two in there saving the empire?”

I moved fast, stepping back from the desk as Damien called, “Come in.”

Adrian entered, grinning. “Father just told me the ledger! I knew we had it under control.”

Damien’s face didn’t move. “Congratulations.”

Adrian clapped him on the shoulder. “Couldn’t have done it without your data-girl here.”

“Isabel,” I said tightly.

“Right. Isabel.” He winked at me, oblivious. “You’re a miracle.”

I felt Damien’s gaze flick toward me but didn’t meet it.

Adrian went on, already reaching for the bottle on the side table. “We should celebrate tonight. Family dinner. Father will love it.”

“That’s not necessary,” Damien said.

“Of course it is.” Adrian poured two glasses, handed one to me, one to his brother. “To teamwork.”

Damien took the glass, but didn’t drink. His eyes stayed on the desk.

Adrian raised his glass higher. “You see? We make a great team.”

No one answered.

I watched Damien then—the stillness, the silence that always hid more than it revealed. But this time I caught it, the flicker of something under his calm. 

He set the glass down untouched. “You should handle the presentation, Adrian. It’s your victory.”

Adrian grinned. “I knew you would say that.” He turned to me. “And you’ll be there beside me, right?”

“Of course,” I said automatically.

When Adrian left, humming down the hall, the silence he left behind felt weighted.

Damien finally spoke. “You shouldn’t let him pull you into the lie.”

“I already am.”

He looked up, but I didn’t explain.

Instead I gathered my papers, “See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t answer at first. Then, softly, “Don’t let your mother call before you come next time.”

That stopped me in the doorway. “What?”

“You wear every word she says.”

I wanted to tell him not to read me like that, not to look past what I showed them. But I held back.

“Goodnight, Damien.”

I started to leave.

“Isabel.”

His voice stopped me again. “You weren’t the weak one.”

I turned, but he was already looking back at the screen, as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

I left before I could be bothered by what he meant.