Damon's office was quieter than usual.
No meetings today. No staff waiting outside the double doors. Just shadows cast by cold light and decisions that cut like blades.
Serena stood by the fireplace, her arms wrapped around herself in a black fitted dress. Simple. Elegant. A shield.
He hadn't looked at her in ten minutes.
Not really.
He'd spoken.
Told her about the board meeting.
About Luca's betrayal.
About the rumors now evolving into something sharper—accusations of embezzlement, bribes, and abuse of power.
The vultures were circling.
But the worst part wasn't the damage to his reputation.
It was what they asked him to do to fix it.
"They want you gone," Damon said at last, voice tight, barely above a whisper.
Serena didn't move.
"They say it'll clean the narrative. That if I let you go—if I… if I make a public statement distancing myself—it'll slow the fire. That I can rebuild."
"And will you?" she asked, eyes still locked on the flames.
He looked up then, the weight in his stare nearly crushing. "Would you hate me if I did?"
Her throat tightened. "I'd understand."
"Don't say that."
"It's true."
"No," Damon said, standing now, his voice rising—not in volume, but intensity. "Don't you dare make it easy for me."
She turned to him slowly.
And now the war in his face was fully visible.
"Serena," he said, walking closer, "you have no idea what they're threatening. My father's estate. My partnerships. Everything I've built over twenty years—gone. And it would be so simple to blame it all on you. To say it was a distraction. An affair. To walk away and let them believe what they want."
Her chin lifted. Brave. But her eyes shimmered with pain. "Then why don't you?"
Damon reached her in two strides.
He didn't touch her.
But he hovered close—his breath catching between the need to protect her and the fear of breaking her.
"Because when I picture life without you," he whispered, "I don't see freedom. I see ruin."
Her breath hitched.
"I've survived betrayal," he said. "I've survived war and exile in boardrooms, public floggings masked as press conferences. But loving you?" His voice cracked. "That's the only thing that doesn't feel like surviving."
Silence.
And then—
Her hands found his shirt, clutching the fabric.
She pressed her forehead against his chest. "Then fight for it."
He wrapped his arms around her instantly, as if her touch gave him permission to breathe again.
"I will," he said fiercely. "I don't care what it costs."
---
Later, Serena found herself sitting across from Julian Crane, one of her father's oldest rivals, in a dim private lounge nestled beneath a forgotten hotel in the city's oldest district.
She hadn't told Damon.
But she knew what she was doing.
Julian smiled slowly. "To what do I owe the visit, Miss Renley?"
"You want a piece of Cross Enterprises," she said plainly.
He lifted a brow. "That obvious, is it?"
"Then let me offer something better. My silence. My endorsement. My name—if needed. In return, you take your claws out of Damon."
He studied her, swirling his scotch.
"You think I'd make a deal with a girl in heels and heartbreak in her eyes?"
"I think," she said coolly, "you know exactly how dangerous I can be when I decide something's worth protecting."
Julian's grin widened. "Now that sounds familiar. Just like your father."
"No," she said. "I don't play by his rules. I write my own."
A beat passed.
Then—he nodded once.
"I'll consider it."
---
Back at the penthouse, Damon waited for her. Pacing. Checking his watch. Wondering if she'd changed her mind.
When she walked through the doors, hair damp from the sudden rain outside, his chest caved with quiet relief.
"Where were you?"
She didn't answer right away.
She walked up to him, stood on her toes, and kissed him—soft and lingering, but deep enough to steal the air from his lungs.
Then she whispered—
"I did something you're not allowed to ask about."
He frowned. "Serena—"
"I did it because I believe in you," she said. "Because I'm not letting anyone take you from me."
Emotion flickered in his eyes—conflicted, proud, afraid.
He touched her face, kissed her forehead. "You don't have to fix this for me."
"I'm not," she said. "I'm fixing it for us."