Silents Rage
Ana's POV
The night was bitter, but Ana's heart felt colder still as she stepped out of the cab. She stood before one of the most extravagant hotels in all of Switzerland, gold trimmings, glass chandeliers, and that unsettling air of luxury that always reminded her she didn't belong. She squared her shoulders and walked in, heels echoing softly against the marble floor.
Her eyes scanned the hallway, searching for room 42, the number Victor had sent.
Just as she turned a corner, a woman passed by briskly, talking into her phone, and Ana's eyes narrowed.
Seraphina Blake.
She was on a call, her voice low and confident, completely unaware of Ana's presence. Ana watched as Seraphina Blake, ever composed and glamorous, slid a VIP card into the slot and slipped inside her room, locking the door behind her without a second glance.
Ana frowned. Of course she's lodging here too. Just the mere sight of Seraphina had already ruined her day. Thankfully, the woman hadn't noticed her. Ana let out a quiet breath of relief and forced herself to focus, pushing every thought of Seraphina to the back of her mind.
She continued down the corridor, searching for Room 42, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, until her eyes landed on the doorplate.
Room 42.
And right next to it, the number 43.
She froze.
No way... Seraphina's room is right beside Victor's?
Ana gasped, the detail slicing through her composure like a blade. That small, almost insignificant coincidence only fueled her rising anger. Without thinking, she raised her hand and jabbed the doorbell to Room 42, hard.
That was when she sensed movement.
Deliberate. Steady. Powerful.
Her eyes instinctively drifted down the corridor, and locked with a tall, familiar figure walking toward her.
The moment their eyes met, something electric passed between them, raw and confusing.
Then it felt like time itself seemed to crack in half.
Her heart skipped.
Damien?
'What the hell was he doing here?'
His hands in his pocket as he walked toward her from the far end of the hallway. He was handsome and composed in that maddeningly cool way of his.
Panic flared inside her chest. She quickly looked away, pretending not to see him, but her mind raced. '
Should I say something? Maybe just a polite hello? He's my boss, after all'. Her lips parted slightly, but the words caught in her throat.
Ana's thoughts spiraled as Damien closed the distance between them. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her mind scrambling for composure. But before she could decide, he stopped, right beside her.
In front of Room 43.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Oh! he's here for her? Seraphina?
Of course he was. What had she expected? They were lovers. She'd seen it with her own eyes, the way they'd nearly lost control in his office. Apparently, that little office romance wasn't enough for them. Now they were bringing it to a hotel suite.
Fury rose in her chest like wildfire. She turned her head sharply, pretending she hadn't even seen him. Her face stiffened into a mask of indifference, though her heart raged underneath.
Then, without warning, the door to Room 42 swung open.
Victor stood there, casually leaning against the doorframe, a white towel slung low around his waist, his tattooed chest still glistening from the shower.
Damien froze.
His jaw clenched as he turned and rang Seraphina's bell, the sound sharp and impatient. The door clicked open almost instantly, and without saying a word, he stepped inside, though not before casting one final glance toward Ana... just in time to see Victor pull her by the wrist and close the door behind them.
He saw it all.
And he was burning.
Damien's POV
Damien was deep in a much-needed sleep, the kind that wraps around you like velvet, until his phone shrieked to life, dragging him into the cold light of consciousness.
Groaning, he reached for it blindly, still half-dreaming, until he saw the name flashing across the screen.
Mum.
He swiped to answer.
"Damien Lopez!" his mother's voice blasted through, sharper than a blade. "How could you be so heartless? How dare you abandon Seraphina at that hotel?! Do you even care what she's going through?"
Damien blinked, stunned, trying to process her fury.
"She called me in tears! Said she was being bullied. Harassed. Treated like trash! If you don't get over there this instant and defend her, I swear I'll be on the next flight. And trust me, you won't like it when I handle things."
She hung up without waiting for a response.
Damien sat there in silence, the rage barely settling behind his tired eyes.
What the hell had just happened?
Damien was speechless, so he asked Eric to look into the matter, since the hotel belongs to the Lopez.
Eric then put a call through to the manager and requested the footage of whatever happened with Seraphina be sent over at once.
And when Damian watched the footage, he discovered that Seraphina was in fact the one at fault.
As the truth unraveled fast.
Seraphina. Dressed to impress, heels clicking down the hallway like she owned the entire building. Her posture screamed entitlement. Her tone, pure venom.
She'd approached the bar and demanded service, brushing past a line of waiting guests. The waitress, calm and professional, gently informed her that she needed to wait her turn.
Seraphina's eyes flared.
"Do you know who I am? My fiancee owns this place!"
The waitress didn't flinch. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but you just arrived,"
"I want your manager. Now."
The footage cut to the manager stepping forward, trying to ease the situation. But Seraphina had already shifted into full diva mode.
"I want her fired. Immediately."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," the manager replied, still patient. "She followed the rules."
Seraphina's voice rose an octave. "You're going to regret this. Both of you. I'm the future daughter-in-law of the Lopez family. You'll be unemployed before sunset!"
But the manager remained composed. "There's been no official communication from the Lopez family regarding your status. I can't act on unofficial claims."
That's when Seraphina made the call.
Her face morphed, tears streamed down like she was starring in a tragic film. Her voice cracked, desperate and fragile.
"Mrs. Lopez... I'm scared. They're humiliating me here... Please...if Damien doesn't come for me, I don't know what I'll do. I might just take my own life..."
Damien's jaw tightened.
Crocodile tears.
Manipulation laced with theatrics.
He leaned back slowly, exhaling through his nose. "She wants to play games," he murmured. "Fine. But she picked the wrong opponent."
Damien didn't bother asking for an explanation.
He already knew Seraphina's style, sugar on the outside, venom on the inside. So instead of wasting breath, he simply requested the hotel footage.
And when the truth unfolded before his tired eyes, when he watched Seraphina parading around the lobby like she owned the building, barking orders at staff, threatening jobs and demanding royal treatment.
When he saw the truth, that Seraphina was the one who instigated the entire mess, he merely smirked.
Figures.
Without a second thought, he tossed the phone aside and went back to sleep.
But sleep was not merciful that night.
His phone rang again. And again. And again.
Until finally, with a growl of frustration, he picked it up.
Eleanor.
His mother's voice came through sharp and emotional, her words heavy with guilt, grief, and manipulation, a familiar cocktail Damien had long learned to drink in silence.
"How could you be so cruel, Damien?"
She started with the usual:
"I've been so alone since your father died..."
"You don't know what it feels like to wake up in an empty bed every day..."
"Seraphina reminds me that I still have a family..."
Damien closed his eyes, letting the words wash over him. He'd heard it all before, each word like a blade to the chest. "I gave you everything! Now you can't even stand up for the one person who stick around with me since your father's demise!"
Damien pressed his fingers against his temple. Every word hit like a brick.
Because the cruelest part was...
She wasn't wrong.
He was the reason his father had died.
And now, his mother never let him forget it.
He had truthfully brought Tyler into their home, welcomed her, loved her, trusted her. And in the end, that love tore everything apart. His father was buried under the weight of that betrayal. And his mother had never stopped mourning since.
She never asked for much, but when she did, it always came wrapped in guilt and memories soaked in pain. And Damien, no matter how hardened he'd become, could never bring himself to say no.
So when she said it again,"Go to the hotel and check on Seraphina, Make it right. If you truly care, or I'll cry myself to sleep tonight..."Damien knew he had no way out.
No way at all especially with the way his mother kept asking him for impossible things and how much she guilted it out of him instead.
He glanced at the time. 9:07 PM.
He'd had an endless and exhausting day filled with board meetings, emails, and silent stares at Eva's empty desk, also accompany by a headache that refused to die., and now he was mentally and physically drained. But here he was, pulling himself out of bed, silently cursing the chains of guilt that kept dragging him along.
And yet, here he was, getting dressed like a damn puppet.
He got dressed with zero enthusiasm and headed toward the hotel.
Because the truth was undeniable, his mother loved his father more than life itself. And now that life had snatched him away, all thanks to him playing a little role, the least Damien could do was carry the weight of her pain.
So he complied.
Like he always did.