Damian's mind was haunted by the vile words painted on Chloe's dorm door as he drove to Liberty Golf Club. It wasn't just graffiti; it was a declaration of hate, red letters that stained more than just the paint—a racial slur that seared itself into Chloe's heart. And behind it, he was sure, was Todd Wood.

Despite the police closing the case due to lack of evidence, Damian was certain of Todd's guilt. No witnesses had come forward, and Todd had presented a convenient alibi: he claimed he was dining with his parents at the golf club at the time of the incident. However, Damian's intuition nagged at him, telling him that something about Todd's story didn't add up.

In Damian's world, power protected its own, and he knew Todd's parents would lie for their son without hesitation. Today, he would confront Todd at the golf club where the elite hid their darkest secrets behind manicured greens. Chloe had shown him Todd's social media profile, and Damian studied his features carefully.

The air was crisp as Damian met with his father, Alistair, and Uncle Nick, each moment stretching taut as he awaited Todd's arrival. His family's laughter mingled with the distant thwack of golf balls, a soothing backdrop to the storm brewing in Damian's chest. His hands gripped the golf club as he surveyed the lush green expanse under the pale morning sun, casting shadows across the dewy grass.

Uncle Nick leaned in, lowering his voice, a conspiratorial gleam in his eye, "Remember, it's not just about swinging at balls here. It's about swinging the power dynamics in your favor."

"Ease up on the life lessons, Lazarus," Alistair chuckled, using the nickname he'd given Nick after he miraculously returned to their lives years after being presumed dead in a boating accident.

Nick's cold, gray eyes, so like Damian's mother's, flickered with amusement before turning to Damian. "Anything new stirring in your life, lad?"

Damian kept his response neutral, his eyes scanning the crowd. "All's calm. Just the usual grind at university and volleyball."

"Volleyball? That's right, you have a match coming up?" Alistair's tone was light, but his gaze was sharp, missing nothing.

"Next weekend, against Saint Agnes," Damian replied, the words automatic.

"Make sure you send me the details because Vera wants to watch."

"I will." Damian nodded, his gaze finally landing on the figure of Todd entering the clubhouse. His skin prickled with a dark thrill.

Uncle Nick chuckled, leaning closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You seem tense. Problems with a girl?"

Damian's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Something like that."

Before more could be said, a familiar voice called out. "Scotty! Over here!"

He turned to see Angelo Lucciano, whose presence at the club was no coincidence. Damian had his plans, and they involved some muscle Angelo could provide.

"This is my nephew, Chase, and his girlfriend, Veronica." Angelo gestured to the young couple beside him. Chase was a striking figure, his big, brown eyes and dark hair curling at the nape of his neck, giving him a roguish charm. Despite his good looks, there was an arrogance to his demeanor that Damian found instantly off-putting.

Damian shook Chase's hand, noting the dismissive glance the other man gave him. "Nice to meet you. What do you do, Chase?"

"Pilot training," Chase replied, vanity tinting his tone. "And you?"

"Finance, last year of college," Damian answered, his attention split as he watched Todd laugh with his friends by the bar.

Chase's disinterest was palpable as he excused himself, pulling Veronica away. Damian's focus sharpened—pleasantries were over.

As the golf game concluded, Damian found his moment. Todd was alone at the beverage counter, a perfect opportunity. Angelo sidled up beside Damian, following his gaze.

"That the guy?" Angelo growled, his stare like daggers on Todd.

"I'll handle it. But keep one of your guys on standby," Damian said, his voice low as he nodded toward two of Angelo's bodyguards lounging against the wall.

Angelo's grin widened, understanding Damian's dark intent. "No problem." He snapped his fingers, and a massive figure detached himself from the shadows, a tattooed teardrop prominent under his left eye. "This is Leon 'the Lip' Ribaldi," Angelo introduced, then turned to Leon. "Watch Damian's back. Anything he needs, you do."

With Leon following a step behind, Damian approached Todd, who was sipping his coffee, oblivious to the storm coming his way. "Heard you like to scare people," Damian said coldly, skipping any pretense of a greeting.

Todd, recognizing Damian instantly from the media coverage of his influential family, nearly choked on his drink. "Motherfu—"

"Save it. Watch your language," Damian cut him off with a sharp grin, Leon looming ominously behind him.

Todd raised his trembling hands in defense. "Look, whatever I did, it was an accident. I'll pay for the damages, double."

Damian chuckled darkly, stepping closer, arms folded across his chest. "What interests me isn't your money. It's your little problem with Chloe Carter. You know, the Asian 'chink'?" His voice was cruel as he used the slur to bait Todd, cringing inwardly at the word.

Todd's eyes narrowed, a smirk twisting his features. "The fat lard with the slant eyes? Heck, she looks like a fucking alien. You know about the slur on her door? Yeah, I'm making that Asian slut pay for existing. To show her who's in charge here."

"Let's step outside. We can talk. Make her really pay," Damian proposed with a twisted smile, playing into Todd's delusions.

Once outside, the chilly air did nothing to cool the anger burning in Damian. Leon moved with deliberate swiftness. At Damian's barely perceptible nod, he seized Todd by the collar, hurling him against the cold metal of a garbage container. The sharp clang echoed as Todd's back slammed into the steel, his yelp lost in the thud of his body hitting the surface.

Leon's fists were precise and brutal, striking Todd's midsection and face in quick succession. Each punch was muffled by Todd's increasingly desperate gasps for air. Blood trickled from a split lip, mingling with the sweat that sheened his forehead, dripping in dark, spattered patterns onto the grimy concrete.

"Enough! Please, stop. I didn't mean it," Todd choked out, his voice raspy, his breaths shallow, as he tried to shield his face with trembling hands.

Damian stood over him, the embodiment of cold fury. "Here's the deal. You leave Chloe alone. You so much as glance at her, and you're dead. My father, you know what they say about him, right?"

Todd whimpered, blood dribbling from his split lip. "He's a ruthless—"

"And you know of my mother?"

Leon tightened his grip, fingers pressing dangerously close to Todd's eyes, eliciting a scream of pure terror. "Please, no!"

"Why should I care if you lose an eye or two? The police won't be coming to your rescue. You know why?" Damian paused, gesturing toward Leon, who stood with an imposing stillness. "I have friends in all the right places, especially among the police."

"I'm sorry, I swear to God. I'll leave Chloe alone. I'll never even look at her," Todd stammered, desperate fear widening his eyes.

Damian eyed him, unimpressed. His gaze landed on fresh dog droppings nearby. Without a word, he took a tissue from his pocket, scooped up some, and held it under Todd's nose. "You like to dish out shit, right? Time to take some."

Todd recoiled, gagging. "Please, what are you—"

"Open up," Damian ordered, smearing the filthy tissue across Todd's mouth. Leon's grip ensured Todd couldn't escape as the vile taste hit his tongue.

"Swallow it," Damian's voice was ice.

Tears and mucus mixed with the dirt on Todd's face as he complied, his body shuddering with each sob.

"An eye for an eye," Damian murmured, recalling his father's creed. "But I'm merciful. Remember this mercy."

Releasing his hold slightly, Damian stepped back, his warning clear, "Mess with Chloe again, and it'll be more than just your eyes and tongue at stake."

Damian washed his hands in the restroom later, staring at the mirror and contemplating his future. Was he becoming a monster like his mother? Or a hardened man of the world like his father? Only time will tell. 

***

On Monday evening, Chloe prepared to meet with Damian at their usual spot on the library's fifth floor. Her week had been unusually peaceful; Todd had not harassed her once. In class, he kept to himself at the front, avoiding eye contact, starkly contrasting his usual behavior. When they brushed against each other amid the bustling crowd, he mumbled an apology, his touch as light as a feather—a far cry from his typical aggressive bumps.

With a small smile, Chloe grabbed her phone to confirm her plans with Damian, sending a message to ensure he hadn't forgotten their eight p.m. rendezvous.

> Hey, are we still meeting tonight? 🙂

The typing bubble appeared, followed by his response.

> Sure! Sorry about being MIA. Been busy with the family business.

> No need to apologize. As long as you're fine.

> Can't wait to see you, babe. ❤️

"Who are you messaging?" Lisa inquired, munching on a bowl of grapes as she lounged on her bed.

"Damian. We're studying together again," Chloe replied, her eyes not leaving the screen.

"Good. I told you something must've been up. He's got a heavy weight on his shoulders, what with being the son of Lester Harbor's most notorious billionaire. And then there's his mother. From what the news tells us, she's a power-hungry psychopath."

Chloe hummed in agreement, her curiosity piqued. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"If you want to understand more about what he's dealing with, you should check out the latest interview with Saira Quinn on The Daily's website," Lisa suggested.

Nodding, Chloe opened her laptop, typed Saira's name into the search bar, and clicked on a recent article featuring a photo of a tall, dignified woman with long white-blonde hair and a cool gaze—features that bore some resemblance to Damian's striking appearance.

She began reading the article on the ongoing rivalry in Damian's family.

They stole my life—now they're swiping my son's inheritance!

The Scott-Quinn family feud continues as former socialite Saira Quinn alleges that her son, Damian Scott, stands to lose most of his family inheritance due to recent business restructuring. In an exclusive interview from Lester Harbor Women's Correctional Facility, Saira Quinn speaks with our features reporter, Katy Rodriguez, about the ongoing family drama and the potential financial repercussions for her son.

Q: Saira, you seem troubled lately. Can you share what's concerning you?

A: It's straightforward. My ex-husband, Alistair Scott, alongside my brother, Nick, have historically allied against me. From childhood through adulthood, they've often conspired together. Now, they're at it again, this time restructuring our group's organization in a way that disproportionately threatens my son's inheritance.

Q: How might family members act against each other's interests in this way?

A: One might imagine we'd function as a unified family, but that's far from reality. Vera, Alistair's current wife, is orchestrating the restructuring. She's ensuring that her daughter, Hope, receives a large portion of the ownership once she turns eighteen, to Damian's detriment.

Q: At a recent press conference, Alistair mentioned Damian would play a pivotal role in the company's future, even suggesting he could be the next CFO. How does that align with your concerns?

A: Alistair's declarations are mere smoke and mirrors. He's deceitful, and I urge you to accept his proclamations skeptically. My legal team is currently negotiating terms for my early release and probation. Once I'm out, I plan to rectify these discrepancies.

Q: Could you give us more insight into the underlying tensions within the Scott-Quinn family?

A: Our union was never just a marriage but a strategic alliance meant to bolster the Scott-Quinn joint ventures through economic downturns and recessions. After my father died, Nick's envy of my position in the family business grew, influencing Alistair to sideline me and eventually orchestrate my current predicament.

Q: There have been persistent rumors about your involvement in a boating accident that Nick supposedly died in, only for him to return years later. Is there any truth to these rumors?

A: These allegations are baseless. No evidence of foul play has ever surfaced. It's irresponsible to propagate such theories without the facts.

Q: On a more personal note, were you and Alistair ever in love?

A: I did love him deeply and bore him a son. Unfortunately, my love was unrequited. Alistair's priorities lay elsewhere—with women, extravagant parties, and substance abuse heavily influenced by my brother's bad behavior.

Q: There are also allegations that you were involved in exploiting sex workers at a venue known as The Church, now a legal establishment run by Nick. Could you address these claims?

A: This interview is over. Remember, I am the victim here.

***

"Whoa." Chloe let out a low whistle, her gaze lingering on the final lines of the interview.

"I don't want to say it, but I told you so," Lisa gave her a knowing look. "That family? They've got too much money to fight over."

"No wonder Damian's been preoccupied," Chloe murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. With such a labyrinth of deceit and betrayal, it was clear that wealth brought Damian nothing but pain. The thought made her stomach twist with empathy—and curiosity.

As Chloe prepared for her study session with Damian, she was on edge, unsure of what he expected in exchange for his tutoring tonight. He only hinted a few days ago, "Expect a surprise," leaving her imagination to run wild.

The unknown stirred a thrill through her, a delicious shiver of anticipation that bordered on the forbidden. The prospect of uncovering more intimate layers of Damian amid the dark shadows of his past left her eager for what was to come.

***
A/N: Another chapter where a character surprised me with his actions. Did Damian go too far, or is it in his nature to be predatory and protective?