Damian was buried in spreadsheets, the glow of his widescreen monitor the only light in his dim office. A faint whiff of brandy clung to his collar, mingling with the scent of cologne and coffee.

"Are you trying to ruin your life, or is it just a happy accident?" His stepmother's harsh voice cut through his thoughts. She leaned against the doorframe, silhouetted against the warm hallway light.

"What are you doing here, Mom?" His emerald eyes met hers, their usual glint dulled by exhaustion. He loosened his silk tie and rested his forearm casually on the desk. His other hand twirled a gold pen between his fingers, the smooth movement almost hypnotic.

Vera didn't answer.

She strode into the room, her heels tapping an unforgiving rhythm against the hardwood floor, and flicked on the ceiling light. Her silk blouse shimmered, and her tailored pants were perfectly pressed. Damian followed her movements like a wolf sizing up an opponent, but his smirk disappeared when she crossed to the bar cart.

"Don't," he warned.

Vera ignored him. She plucked the brandy bottle from the cart, held it to the light for a brief inspection, and then marched to the bin. He groaned when she dropped the glass bottle into it, hearing the clink and the liquid sloshing.

"Jesus, Vera! That stuff was older than I am," Damian snapped, sitting forward. His shirt pulled taut over his broad chest. He raked a hand through his hair, the kind of unruly tousled perfection making him look effortlessly disheveled—like a man who wore his chaos well.

"And yet, somehow, not as valuable," she shot back, brushing her hands clean. "You're flushing your reputation, this company, and your entire life down the drain faster than this brandy."

Damian's jaw tightened. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Vera reached into her Hermès bag and pulled out a magazine. She slapped it onto his desk with enough force to rattle his keyboard.

Damian flinched.

The tabloid's front page screamed in bold letters:

Damian Scott: Boozy Billionaire Gone Wild.

Below it, a photograph showed him at a nightclub, his arm slung around two barely dressed women, his hand clutching a bottle of champagne, and his shirt unbuttoned to his navel. His pants were halfway zipped.

Damian exhaled sharply, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he grabbed the magazine and tossed it into the wastebasket. "Tabloids are trash, and that was taken weeks ago," he muttered. "They'll print anything."

"Not without ammunition," Vera countered. "You handed everything to them on a silver platter. Damian Scott, billionaire playboy. Damian Scott, irresponsible manwhore. Damian Scott, liability."

"What else have you got?" He stared at her, grinding his teeth.

"How about sleazy? Player? Uncommitted? Take your pick."

"Enough!" His muscles tensed beneath his shirt, the veins in his forearms visible as his fist hit the desk, rattling his monitor. "I didn't ask to be followed, all right? I didn't ask for this."

"Yachting with VS models. Lap dances in Vegas. On the beach with a topless adult film actress. These are the only photos I've seen of you in months," Vera rebuked, waving a finger at him. "What would Chloe say?"

Damian's chest tightened, his hands curling into fists. "She'd say to move on."

"This is moving on? Booze? Women? Sex? Drugs?"

"I don't do drugs," he bit out.

"Oh, excuse me. Prescription painkillers, right? How noble," Vera shot back, picking up a packet of paracetamol combined with opioids from his desk.

"Damian, you're spiraling," she said, throwing the packet into the wastebasket.

"Mom—" he began, but she cut him off with a sharp look.

"Don't 'Mom' me," she replied, cutting through his excuses. "You're the face of this corporation. Do you know what this does to our family name? To our charity organizations? We're about to close a deal with a company that prides itself on family values. How exactly do we pitch that with this plastered everywhere?"

"Mom, stop!" His voice cracked as he roared. "I just wanted to die, okay?"

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. Vera froze, her arms dropping to her sides. The fire in her eyes dimmed, replaced by something softer, something pained.

"Dami..." Her voice lowered, the steel cracking for the first time. She stepped closer, but Damian turned away, raking his hands through his hair.

His shoulders trembled as he whispered, "I just wanted it all to stop."

Vera stayed silent, her gaze locked on her stepson. She exhaled, her shoulders sagging under the weight of his confession.

"You're not the only one suffering," she said. "You think you're alone in this, but you're not. Glenn and Ida—do you think they're not mourning too? I dropped Dawn off at their house last weekend while you were... preoccupied. They're terrified for you. So are your father and I."

Damian sank back into his chair, burying his face in his hands. "I couldn't... I didn't know how to do this anymore."

Vera moved closer, pulling up a chair across from him. "Listen to me," she urged. "I know the pain feels like it's going to swallow you whole. I lost someone I loved dearly—my mother. Not a day goes by when I don't miss her. But I didn't crawl into a bottle or drown myself in grief. I kept living for your father, you, and Hope."

She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his. "And do you know why? Because it's what my mother would've wanted. Don't you think Chloe would want the same for you?"

Damian didn't respond. His shoulders heaved as he sobbed, breathing heavily.

Vera reached out and touched his arm, startling him. "My son. Do you remember the night we met?"

His head tilted up, and his eyes softened slightly at the memory. "Yeah. I was eleven. I ran away from my mother's house. You'd just started dating Dad."

Vera smiled faintly. "You were a scrawny kid with a mop of golden curls and sad eyes. Remember your dad then? I told him he was a terrible parent for neglecting you. He didn't like hearing that."

"You were the first person ever to say it to his face," Damian said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "I thought you were brave."

"I probably was," Vera admitted, chuckling. Her face grew serious again. "And do you remember much about your father back then?"

Damian hesitated. "I remember hating him. He was everything I despised. Cold. Distant. Selfish." His voice broke as he added, "Everything I'm becoming."

Vera reached out and placed a firm hand on his knee. "You're not him," she assured. "But you're destroying yourself the way he used to. Booze, women, shutting the world out—it's the same pattern. And it nearly destroyed him."

Damian's voice cracked. "Why didn't you leave him?"

"I did," Vera said. "For a little while. But I came back."

"Why?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Because he showed me who he really was behind all those layers of pain." She paused, then added, "He opened up. He fought for me."

Damian swallowed hard. "Was his pain because of my mother?"

"Not entirely," Vera answered. She brushed imaginary dust off her pants, her gaze far away. "But Saira tried to make things worse."

He let out a shaky breath, whispering, "You were always the better parent. Thank you for being here. I needed you."

"We're family. When you fall, I'm here to lift you again." Vera studied him before leaning forward, lowering her voice. "You need to be strong for Dawn. Chloe would've wanted that."

Damian's gaze locked on hers. "Agent Hahn says Chloe might still be alive."

Vera froze. "What?"

"The body they found wasn't hers," Damian said, leaning forward. "The DNA didn't match, according to the new coroner. Sofia's team found that Marino had paid off the previous coroner, who's been arrested and charged for falsifying information."

Vera gripped the back of the chair, her knuckles white. "Her wedding ring—"

"Planted," Damian interrupted, his voice hard. "And the missing fingertip... Marino brands his high-end victims. Chloe wasn't the only one."

Her breath hitched. "You think Chloe is alive?"

"She's alive. I can feel it."

"What are you going to do?"

"I've called a meeting after work tonight. Sofia, Angelo, Dad, Nick, and Jason. Everyone's in. Sofia will lay out everything she's uncovered, and we'll plan our next steps."

"Next steps?" Vera frowned. "Bringing her home should be enough, shouldn't it?"

Damian's eyes darkened, his voice turning cold. "That's what I plan on doing. I'm also going to find and kill Mike."

There was no mistaking the threat in his tone. Vera studied him, searching his face for the boy she'd helped raise. But the man in front of her now—the raw, unrelenting force he was becoming—was a storm waiting to unleash itself.

She exhaled, brushing imaginary dust from her blouse. "Then you need to be strong for her. And for Dawn."

Green flames blazed in Damian's eyes for the first time in months. "I will be," he promised.

Vera grinned. "This is timely. Your father and I think you need a break. A proper one. A few weeks away from work. Nick can find someone to cover for you."

"Uncle Nick's in Tokyo," Damian reminded.

"Nick has connections," Vera replied. "Don't underestimate him."

"What exactly do you want me to do while I'm gone?"

"I expect you to take the time to remember who you are," Vera said. "And why you fight. Glenn and Ida will take care of Dawn. Let them. They love her."

Damian nodded. "I'll use these weeks to find Chloe."

"Good." Vera folded her arms. "Go under the radar. If you have to, change your appearance. Ditch the suits. Keep a low profile."

Damian raised an eyebrow, a flicker of his old charm returning. "What are you saying, Mom? Should I grow a beard, shave my hair or grow it out, and wear dark hoodies?"

"If that's what it takes." She didn't miss a beat. "You can't afford to have your face plastered on every tabloid while you're tracking Mike Marino."

His lips twitched, a dry laugh escaping him. "You're relentless, you know that?"

Vera arched an elegant brow. "Who do you think put Saira in jail and adopted you? I didn't get where I am by twiddling my thumbs, Damian."

That caught him off guard, and for the first time in months, a genuine laugh rumbled from his chest. It was soft, fleeting, but real. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd still be neck-deep in brandy and bad decisions," she quipped, though there was no venom in her words—only the shadow of worry.

Vera leveled him with a sharp, unwavering gaze. "Clean up your act—because the man you are now isn't strong enough to bring Chloe home."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he stood silently, absorbing them instead of arguing back. For the first time, he didn't argue. He didn't deflect.

"I'll clean up. And when I find Chloe, I will make Marino wish he'd never been born."

"Finding her is only half the battle. Don't lose yourself before you do."

***

Silence consumed the office after Vera left. Damian stood motionless, his fingers brushing the faint stubble on his jaw before dipping into his pocket.

His thumb found the familiar curve of Chloe's wedding ring. He pulled it out, the gold catching the dim light like a flicker of something just out of reach. The sight of it hit him like a knife to the chest—a sharp, unrelenting reminder of the night she disappeared.

Her voice came back to him, clear with hope. "I trust you with all my heart."

His fist closed around the ring, his grip so tight it hurt. He stared down at his knuckles, bloodless and trembling. He couldn't afford to break anymore.

Not now.

Not when Chloe might still be alive.

Damian shoved the ring back into his pocket, forcing the memory down. He turned to the window, his broad shoulders taut, and gazed at the city below.

The city lights sparkled in the distance, indifferent to the firestorm raging inside him. They didn't care about the broken promises or the sleepless nights. But he cared. He always would. And this time, he wouldn't let her down. Tonight, Sofia would bring answers, and the plan would begin.

Chloe's laughter echoed in his mind, blending with his final words. A promise from a man burning with love:

"I'll protect you. Always."

This time, he wouldn't let her down.

***

A/N: What do you think Damian will do? Were Vera's words too harsh? What do you think happened to Chloe? Will Damian live up to his promise? ❤️