Damien sat in the private conference room of the Carlton Plaza, the city skyline glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. The table before him was littered with contracts, projections, and supplier reports — yet none of it was adding up.
He had flown out two days ago to finalize an expansion deal that would push his company's reach into new markets. Everything had been prepared, rehearsed, and locked down. But now… things were unraveling.
The first red flag had been the sudden amendment of a supplier agreement — clauses rewritten to give the other party leverage over his production timelines. Then came the suspicious "double booking" of shipment schedules, which could stall his launches for months. It wasn't the mistakes themselves that set him off, but the precision of them. This was no accident.
Damien prided himself on reading between the lines, whether in boardrooms or in a stranger's eyes. And the more he read these contracts, the more certain he became — someone was deliberately pulling threads.
He loosened his tie and leaned back in the chair, his eyes narrowing at the city lights.
Who benefits from keeping me away from home?
Names crossed his mind, but one refused to leave — Leon. That man had never learned when to stay down. And Damien knew he had motive.
Ayla's face came to him then — from that morning before his flight. She had avoided his eyes, her voice cool, her movements distant. It had bothered him enough to linger in his thoughts the entire trip.
What if Leon wasn't just lurking on the sidelines anymore? What if he'd stepped directly into her life the moment Damien's plane left the ground?
His jaw tightened. He wouldn't let anyone — especially Leon — take what belonged to him.
Damien picked up his phone and dialed.
"Cancel tomorrow's meetings," he said, his tone sharp.
"Sir, the board—"
"Cancel them. Get the jet ready. We leave tonight."
When the call ended, Damien stood, buttoning his jacket with deliberate calm. The city's glitter looked hollow now. His focus had shifted entirely.
By the time the jet touched down, the night had deepened. Damien's car glided through familiar streets, the hum of the engine almost masking the thoughts racing in his head. He'd expected to head straight to his penthouse, but an impulse told him to make a detour — to see for himself if his suspicions were true.
And that's how he ended up parked across from Ayla's gate.
The first thing he noticed was the glow of her porch light spilling across the driveway. The second was her — stepping out of Leon's car.
Ayla was dressed to kill. A black dress that clung to her figure in all the right places, her hair loose in soft waves, her makeup subtle but sharp. One look and it was clear: this wasn't a "just catching up with an old friend" outfit. This was either the aftermath of a date… or the beginning of one.
Damien's grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Leon came around to open her door, and the easy smile on his face was enough to make Damien's blood run hot. He didn't need to hear the words — the body language was loud enough. Ayla's faint smile, the way her hand lingered on the doorframe, the closeness as she stepped toward him.
Damien pulled his car forward, slow and deliberate, the headlights sweeping across them like a spotlight. Both their heads turned.
Leon's expression shifted first — from surprise to guarded defiance. Ayla's, however, was something else entirely: shock, followed by a flash of guilt she tried to mask.
Damien stepped out of his car, straightening to his full height, his gaze locked on them. The air between the three of them thickened instantly, the silence saying more than words could.
"Going somewhere?" Damien asked, his tone deceptively calm.
Neither of them answered right away. But Damien didn't need a reply — he already knew. And this time, he wasn't going to let it slide.