Chapter 67: He Loved Her

Chapter 67: He Loved Her
Damien’s POV

The glow from my laptop screen had reflected on the polished dining table… Numbers, numerous calculations that hadn’t stopped any moment, the continuous calls—I had been glued there for hours with my fingers clicking steadily against the keyboard, sharp and rhythmic, while my jaw worked quietly on the black coffee that had gone cold hours before.

From the corner of my eye, I had seen Belinda in the living room. She shouldn’t have been there at that hour, but then again, Belinda had looked like someone who didn’t give a fuck about what was proper or not, and I thought I would just let her be. I had needed the distraction anyway.

She had bent over the sofa, running a cloth across the fabric like she owned the place. The maid had stood awkwardly beside her, trying to take the rag from her hands, insisting it was her job, but Belinda had waved her off with that stubborn tilt of her chin.

“Seriously?” I had muttered under my breath, clicking the mouse harder with more force.

The sight had irritated me more than it should have. Belinda had had no business proving she could clean when she had been dressed like she was going to dinner with a senator’s wife. She had worn a silk blouse that had filled the air with her expensive perfume and diamond bracelets that had jingled every time she flicked her wrist.

I had rolled my eyes so hard it almost hurt. “Belinda, sit down. You’re not here to play housekeeper.”

She had looked over her shoulder, smiling that sweet smile. “Relax, Damien. I’m just helping. This sofa needed attention.”

The maid had looked at me and I had given her a small nod, dismissing her. She had run off like she’d been freed from prison.

Belinda had kept wiping, humming softly to herself, and for a moment I had just stared. The picture had been absurd: me drowning in work, her pretending to be domestic. If Anne could have seen it, she’d probably have laughed—or maybe she’d have cried or shouted at me.

I had pushed the thought away and refocused on the spreadsheet glowing in front of me.

The sound of footsteps had suddenly broken the silence. They had been heavy and confident. I hadn’t even needed to look up. Only one man walked like he was auditioning for a Broadway stage.

“Romel,” I had sighed, already bracing myself.

He hadn’t disappointed. He had stepped into the dining room, stopping short when his eyes had caught Belinda bent over the sofa. His eyebrows had shot up so high I had sworn they might touch his hairline.

“Well, well, well.” His voice had dripped with amusement. “What do we have here?”

Belinda had straightened immediately, smoothing her blouse, pretending not to notice the way Romel’s smirk had deepened.

“I was just—” she had started.

“Cleaning? In Damien’s house?” Romel had let out a low whistle. “Damn, dude, when did you start running a finishing school for soon-to-be wives?”

Belinda’s face had flushed. She had grabbed her purse from the coffee table and muttered something about needing fresh air before disappearing down the hallway.

The door had clicked shut a second later.

Romel had waited until she was gone before turning his gaze fully on me. His grin had been wide, cruel, and annoyingly satisfied.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he had said. “Belinda? Of all women?”

I had closed my laptop with a snap, leaning back in my chair. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’ve already started.” He had pulled out a chair without asking and dropped into it, leaning forward like it was some kind of therapy session. “You’re screwing your ex-wife’s best friend, for real?”

I hadn’t helped the small chuckle that had escaped me. “At least it’s not her sister.”

Romel had frozen, then burst out laughing so loudly the chandelier above us had seemed to tremble. “You’re unbelievable.” He had wiped at his eyes, still grinning. “But honestly, Damien… what the hell are you doing?”

I had tilted my head, pretending to be calm, but inside there had been an itch crawling under my skin. “What does it matter? I’m a free man. Anne and I are done. Belinda is… convenient.”
Romel had slammed his palm on the table, making my coffee cup rattle. “Convenient? That’s your excuse? Jesus, Damien. She’s Anneliese’s best friend. Don’t you think you’ve humiliated her enough?”

The words had hit harder than I had expected, and for a second, Anne’s face had flashed in my mind—those big brown eyes popping out in shock when she found out.

“I never wanted her… we never wanted the marriage.”

Romel had leaned closer, his voice dropping into a cold whisper. “And you’re still in love with her. Don’t dare deny it.”

I had laughed again, but it had sounded fake in my own ears. “Love? You think I have time for that?”

His jaw had tightened and the humor had drained from his expression, leaving something raw, something I hadn’t been used to seeing on Romel.

He had looked almost… wounded.

“You’re lying to yourself,” he had said. “And you’re lying to everyone else. You still care about her. You wouldn’t be so bitter if you didn’t.”

I had hated when Romel did that—when he said shitty things about me and they felt real.

Finally, I had scoffed and leaned back, forcing a smirk on my face. “Even if I did care, what difference does it make now? We were never meant to be. She doesn’t even want me anymore. She’s got a new man.”

Romel had slammed the chair back and stood, pacing like a caged animal. His hands had raked through his hair, his voice rising with frustration.

“Because you’re wasting yourself! You’re hiding behind Belinda when you know damn well your heart isn’t in it. And the worst part?” He had stopped suddenly, turning to face me with eyes that were on fire. “I love Anneliese too.”

The room had tilted for a moment. My chest had tightened and my fists had clenched automatically.

“What did you just say?” I had growled.

“I said I loved her. I always had. I was just too much of a coward to admit it when you two were together. But now? Now I see the way she deserves to be treated, and the cocksucker you are—nobody needs to teach me what to do next.”

Heat had suddenly risen up my neck and my heart had hammered against my ribs like it was trying to break free and choke me.

I had stood slowly, pushing the chair back.

“You’ve crossed the line.”

“No, Damien. After all, you are not together.” His voice had been steady, sharp as a blade. “You treated her like shit, cut things off, and now you’re playing in the house with her best friend like some spoiled brat who couldn’t deal with his own damn feelings.”

For a second, all I had seen was red. My hand had curled into a fist, but I had forced it to relax, gripping the edge of the table instead.

Romel had taken a step closer. “If you had even a bit of decency left, you’d let Belinda go and face the truth… you still wanted Anne. And if you didn’t, then maybe you should let someone else love her the way she deserved.”

The silence that had followed had been deafening. Only the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen had broken it—and maybe my pulse in my ear.

I had wanted to laugh, to dismiss his words, but the truth in them had been a dagger I couldn’t pull out.

“Get out,” I had whispered.

Romel hadn’t moved. His eyes had still been glued to mine.

“Damien—”

“I said get out!” My voice had cracked through the house like thunder.

He had stared at me for a long moment, then had shaken his head slowly. “One day, you’ll admit it. I just hope it might not be too late.”

He had turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hall. The front door had slammed a second later, leaving me alone with the weight of everything he had just said.

I had dropped back into the chair, putting a hand over my face.

The room had felt colder then, and emptier.

My laptop screen had glowed in front of me, but the numbers had blurred into a blank white page.

Romel’s words had echoed like poison in my head.

I had loved Anne too.

For the first time in years, I hadn’t known if I hated him or myself.

I had been so confused