Damian lay in bed, arms folded behind his head, staring into the darkness of the ceiling. Just an hour earlier, little Dawn had been tormented by a nightmare—her frightened screams echoing down the hall—and he'd rushed to her rescue after the babysitter had already left.

Slowly, through whispered words and the comforting familiarity of his scent, he'd coaxed her trembling form into sleep. Now, her small fingers clutched the soft fabric of his T-shirt, and he listened intently to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

As he closed his eyes, memories of long-ago happiness began to seep into his mind—a bittersweet recollection that made his heart ache with yearning.

He was ten again, and the world was a wonderland.

Disneyland.

The happiest place on earth buzzed with laughter and candy-colored lights. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy wafted through the air as young Damian walked away from his mother near an ice cream stall. Her eyes were glued to the phone as she muttered, "Just one more work message, and we'll get ice cream."

She seemed to take all the time in the world, Damian thought as he kicked the dirt with his new Nike sneakers, scuffing them. Too bored to wait, he wandered through the park, not too far from the stall.

That's when he first saw her.

A girl about his age stood near the face-painting booth, her bright brown almond eyes inquisitive beneath a cascade of bouncing black pigtails. She tugged at her mother's sleeve, pointing to the glittering booth where a skilled makeup artist transformed children into princesses and superheroes.

"Mom, Mom, Mom—look here!" she cried, her voice a joyful lilt. Her checkered dress was faded but clean, and her socks were neatly folded despite the dirt-smudged sneakers.

Her wide eyes sparkled with beauty that made Damian stop in his tracks, eclipsing everything around him. Her unspoiled innocence was a far cry from the broken victims he'd glimpsed through the keyhole of his bedroom—a haunting reminder of Saira's debauched soirées. Back then, he'd fled to bed, petrified and aching for the comfort of his ever-absent, 'too busy' father.

This girl fascinated Damian. No doubt, the prettiest thing he'd ever seen—an image of hope and pure delight in a brutal world.

She didn't resemble her fair-haired parents, who tried to keep walking. Her plea for a painted face—"Please, it's my birthday!"—fell on unwilling ears. Her father's sky-blue eyes narrowed in disapproval.

"Too expensive," he grumbled. "Everything here costs an arm and a leg."

Her mother sighed, explaining, "We're on a tight budget. I'm sorry, sweetie."

The rejection left the girl's face ashen. Her small shoulders slumped, and a single tear escaped, trailing silently down her cheek. Damian felt a surge of empathy—sorrow for a stranger. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a crisp twenty-dollar bill, a gift his mother entrusted him with.

"Hi," he greeted as he approached her parents, his heart pounding with courage and nerves. "I'd like you to have this for her birthday."

The woman's eyes widened in surprise. "You're very kind, but that money is yours. You should keep it."

Damian's earnest smile was disarming. "Don't worry—I have plenty more."

He offered the girl a shy grin, and her eyes, wide with wonder, met his. After a pause, a tentative smile blossomed on her face like a secret promise of friendship. Her parents exchanged a look and murmured their reluctant thanks.

He stepped back, watching her parents guide her toward the face-painting booth. After sitting down, her small face lit up as the artist's brush danced over her skin.

Damian ran to the ice cream stall where his mother stood, both hands on her hips. Her elegant figure carved an imposing silhouette even amid the cheerful chaos of Disneyland.

Saira's sharp gray eyes drilled into him. "Damian, where were you?"

He lowered his head. "I was just looking around."

"Looking around," she repeated coldly. "And you didn't think to tell me?"

"Sorry."

"Apologies are for the weak, son. Don't disappear like that again."

"I won't," he promised, meeting her eyes.

A small smile tugged at Saira's lips just a fraction. "Would you like ice cream?"

Relief flooded him as he nodded. "Yes, please."

"Order whatever you want. Use the cash I gave you earlier—think of it as practice with your math."

Damian hesitated, glancing down. "I... gave it to someone who needed it."

Saira crouched down to Damian's eye level, grabbing his arm. "One day, you'll be wealthy enough to buy a park like this. But learn something: people who rely on apologies or handouts show weakness. You do not mix with the plebs. Remember that."

"Plebs?"

"Plebeians. They are ignorant, uneducated commoners who depend on what we provide. Anyone can be rich. Some choose to remain poor and needy."

"What if needing help is not their fault?"

"Stop being so naive. It's always their fault," Saira snapped. "God, I loathe this place. Full of filth."

With a final, dismissive gesture, she opened her sleek wallet and handed the ice cream vendor her credit card. "Two scoops of chocolate chip on a cone for my son. And make it quick."

Damian accepted his cone, the incredible sweetness of the first lick barely easing the churn in his stomach. His gaze drifted across the plaza until it found her again.

That girl.

Her face was adorned with shimmering pink and gold, each sparkling hue catching the sunlight. She skipped happily between her parents, whose warm smiles contrasted with the cool elegance of Saira's world.

They weren't dressed in the kind of clothes Saira wore.

But they looked fresh. Clean.

They didn't seem like people with money or power.

But they looked happy.

Damian felt a profound ache—a realization that some of life's most beautiful treasures were beyond the reach of wealth.

For the first time, he understood that there were things in life money couldn't buy.

True love.

***

Nine a.m.

Damian's digital watch buzzed as Dawn sat on his lap, eyes glued to a cartoon while Diva snoozed at his feet in the living room. His ebony-brown hair, still damp from his morning swim, curled playfully at his neck. The cool intensity of his usual green eyes gave way to warm brown contact lenses, making him look like someone else.

Someone unrecognizable.

The rhythmic tapping of heels against the glossy timber floor pulled him from his thoughts. Vivianne strode into the room, a well-worn thrift store bag slung casually over one shoulder. Behind her, Hope and Mina trailed in perfect sync—the swish of their flared jeans echoing like a calling for a retro revival.

"Here are the clothes you—" Vivianne stopped mid-sentence, lowering her sunglasses down her nose as she took in Damian's new look. Her jaw practically hit the floor.

"Whoa!" Hope gasped, blinking rapidly. "Where'd my brother go?"

Mina's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh. My. God."

Vivianne shook her head, clutching her chest like she'd been jump-scared. "Jesus, Damian. I was thinking of calling security. I seriously thought some random guy broke in."

Hope and Mina exchanged glances before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

Mina's eyes raked over him appreciatively. "Okay, but seriously—why do you look so hot? Like an Italian mafia movie lead."

Hope gagged. "Ew! Gross. My brother is not hot. Not. Period."

Damian arched an amused brow. "Thanks for the confidence, sis."

With a dismissive wave, Hope pressed, "Just—why do you look like this?"

Dawn yawned and slid off Damian's lap, waddling over in her yellow pajamas to where Hope and Mina knelt to play with her on the floor. Diva lifted her head before flopping down, unimpressed by the chaos.

Turning to Vivianne, Damian asked, "You got my instructions for the next few weeks?"

She tossed the thrift store bag onto the couch and crossed her arms. "Yeah. Including calling Hope and Mina last night to lock them in as house-sitters for a month. You're lucky they said yes."

"Last-minute adventures are our specialty," Hope quipped, poking her tongue out at him.

"But you never explained why you need me to take over your schedule," Vivianne said, peeling off her white jacket. "And if you're going off the radar, how the hell do I contact you if something comes up?"

Damian's expression was unreadable. "You don't."

Vivianne let out a short laugh—then stopped. "Wait. You're serious?"

Hope's playful smirk vanished. "What's going on? You want us to house-sit. You're changing your look. You're acting all secretive. Where are you going?"

Damian rubbed his hand over his freshly shaved jaw. "I'm going to disappear for a while."

Hope frowned. "Damian—"

"And when I return," he continued, "I'll have Chloe with me."

The room stilled.

Mina's mouth fell open. "Wait. Chloe's... alive?"

Damian nodded. "I have reason to believe so. I don't have all the answers yet, but I'll find her."

Hope's voice cracked as she asked, "And if you're wrong?"

"I'm not."

Mina dropped the toy she held for Dawn, who picked it up and tried to chew on it. "This is insane. We thought she—"

"I know," Damian cut in, removing the toy from Dawn's mouth. "New evidence shows the body in her grave isn't hers, and Chloe's been funneled through my mother's trafficking ring. I know she's out there. I'll explain everything when I bring her home. I promise."

Vivianne murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. "It's unbelievable... but okay. Your instructions make sense now."

"This stays between us," Damian ordered, his tone low and calculated. "No one talks about it. Uncle Nick's got someone filling in as VP while I'm gone, and Dad's hired a decoy to act as me—yacht, charade, the whole show. I'm supposedly on vacation. I want no leaks. Not even a whisper."

Vivianne tied back her coppery red hair, nodding. "I understand. You can count on me."

"Who's taking care of Dawn?" Mina asked, moving to the couch.

"Chloe's parents," Damian answered. "I'm dropping her off today."

Dawn toddled toward the kitchen, giggling. Vivianne scooped her up, only to wrinkle her nose. "Yikes, someone needs a diaper change."

Damian gestured vaguely. "Ask one of the housekeeping staff."

"Nah, I've got it," Vivianne said, heading toward the stairs. "Where's her stuff?"

"Bathroom in Dawn's room," he replied.

Once Vivianne's footsteps faded, Hope scowled. "Dammit, Damian. You better not get yourself killed."

"And what about us? Just pretend everything's normal while you run off on a rescue mission?" Mina questioned, stroking Diva's soft fur.

"I need you to do exactly that," Damian instructed. "Act normal. Keep things running as usual."

Hope groaned. "You're the worst."

Mina rolled her eyes. "You owe us. Big time."

"Sure, whatever you want," he replied, half-smiling.

Her eyes lit up. "A shopping spree?"

"Or," Hope said with a playful grin, "summer vacation at a five-star resort in Cabo. To recover from our stressful college lives."

Damian winced, already picturing the chaos. "Just you two?"

"We wouldn't want a certain overprotective brother ruining our vibe," Hope teased.

"What she means," Mina began—only for Hope to slap a hand over her mouth.

Mina pulled it off and grinned. "She means her boyfriend and his friends will be there."

"Crap, Mina," Hope palmed her face. "I specifically said not to tell him."

Damian's dye-darkened eyebrows shot up. "You have a boyfriend?"

"What do you mean?" Hope asked, feigning ignorance.

"Exactly what it sounds like," he replied.

"I'm nineteen next month, and Mina's eighteen," Hope protested. "Besides, you had your first girlfriend at seventeen. All you and Zahara ever did was make out."

Damian raked his fingers through his hair. "We'll talk about this later. For now, no wild parties, and don't trash the house."

"We won't," Hope and Mina chorused before high-fiving.

"How's college going?" Damian inquired, shifting the topic.

Hope shrugged. "Good. I switched from architecture to psychology—it's way more my thing. Mina and I even share the same lecture schedule."

"And you?" he asked Mina.

Her eyes twinkled like the whole city lit up at once. "I made the university volleyball team. I kinda wish you were still coaching me, though."

Damian patted her knee, grinning proudly. "I don't need to be your coach to know you're the best in the team."

Mina twisted her chestnut ponytail, her cheeks blooming pink. "You're kinda sweet when you're not brooding."

Damian inched away, hoping he wasn't sending the wrong signals. He wasn't like Marino—who preyed on teenage girls. The thought churned his stomach, making him recoil.

Vivianne returned with a beaming Dawn, clapping her hands. "No poo poo!" the toddler blurted with a grin.

"Down you go, angel," Vivianne cooed, setting Dawn's feet on the floor. Then she arched an eyebrow. "Okay, dramatic family reunion aside—you're still telling me nothing about how to reach you."

Damian's lips curled into a secretive smile. "You'll know when it's over."

Hope groaned again, lifting Dawn on her lap. "Ugh. Cryptic."

Mina flashed a playful gun gesture, channeling a classic James Bond introduction. "Your brother's literally living like an undercover spy. What did you expect, a live location link?"

Grabbing the thrift bag and slinging it over his shoulder, Damian announced, "I'm going upstairs to change. Take care of my home—and Diva." He nodded toward the dog stretching on a custom Himalayan rug.

"We always do," Hope responded, pulling her long caramel hair free from Dawn's grip. "And for the record, we promise everything will be in one piece when you return."

"Better be," Damian muttered, though a warm edge softened his warning.

He turned toward the stairs, his footsteps steady but his mind racing ahead. The girls' giggles and sarcastic banter faded, but their unspoken support wrapped around him like armor.

He'd be leaving Dawn for now—but he vowed to return with her mother.

***

A/N: Have you ever wondered how Damian has empathy despite being raised by a psychopath and having an absent father? (until Vera came along, of course. But by then, he'd have already developed empathy :)) He's the nicest, warmest guy when he shows love. Having said that, he still has some psychopathic tendencies. 😯

Who are you more afraid of, Mike or Damian?

If you missed the media at the top, here's a cool song that got me in the mood for writing this chapter:

[There should be a GIF or video here. Update the app now to see it.]