Damien stumbled through the front door of the manor, the scotch doing little to numb the turmoil in his mind. The house was silent, but his heavy footsteps echoed on the marble floors as he made his way toward the stairs. Downstairs, Don, who had woken up for a glass of water, heard the noise. He opened his door just a crack and saw Damien clutching the banister, his movements unsteady. Don slowly closed his bedroom door and sat on the edge of his bed, a deep sigh escaping his lips.
Is this what I wanted? Don wondered. He felt a familiar ache of conflict. Am I being too soft on him, or am I pushing him too hard? He is stubborn, just like his father. Don looked over at the nightstand and took a small picture frame. Inside was a photo of his son and daughter-in-law, smiling, with a five-year-old Damien nestled between them. A gentle smile touched Don's lips, but his eyes were filled with a profound sadness.
He remembered his son and daughter-in-law eloping. He had been against the marriage initially because she came from a poor background and couldn't bring any value to his family. Back then, just like now, he was looking at people through the rich-poor lens. He had an arranged marriage planned for his son, but his son firmly refused. He didn't speak to his son for years after that. When his son died, Don regretted never making amends. But his son had left him a grandson. At the beginning, he found it hard; he didn't know how to raise a small child. Later, he taught Damien to be more like him, but he was always heartless and ruthless. A memory flashed in his mind. "I will never marry a woman I don't love, Father! I'm not like you!" his son had told him angrily. Don had scolded him, "If you don't listen to me, you will never inherit the Sterling company." His son had just smiled in his face and said, "I don't care about your company." Don yelled, "If you walk out this door today, I will never forgive you." "Good, because I don't want your forgiveness anyway," his son said and slammed the door.
Don came to his senses, thinking, Am I doing the same thing to Damien as I tried to do with my son? Am I pushing him away? Didn't he say he has someone he loves... Who would that woman be?
He kissed the picture, placed it back on the table, and went to bed. He couldn't sleep for the rest of the night.
Meanwhile, Damien finally reached his room and collapsed onto the bed, the weight of his guilt a physical burden. "Sarah," he whispered into the darkness, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek. "Am I hurting you?"
Across the hall, Penelope's door was ajar. She had been waiting up for him, hoping he would come to her. She heard the soft thud of his body hitting the bed and leaned out of her room, just in time to hear him utter that single word. "Sarah?" she whispered, surprised and curious. A knot of jealousy tightened in her stomach. She had to find out who this woman was. She went to Damien's room, but before she could ask, he muttered, "Sarah, don't leave me." Penelope, seeing an opportunity, climbed onto the bed and tried to force herself upon him. Though drunk, he had enough clarity to push her away. "Get out," he said with a voice of thunder. Penelope stumbled back, her face twisted with fury. He was the first person to ever refuse her, to ignore her like that. She was now more certain than ever that she needed to teach him a good lesson. Nobody ever rejects Penelope Wellington, the heiress to one of the most prominent families in the country.
The next morning, a sharp-edged Damien, dressed in a tailored suit, was already leaving the manor. He strode toward the waiting car where Marco stood by the door.
"Sir, I have new clues," Marco said as Damien approached.
Damien simply nodded. "Tell me everything on the way to the company."
Once they were in the car, Marco began his report. "First, about the accident. We have a man in a baseball cap who tampered with Ethan's brakes in front of the hotel when he went to rescue Sarah. I've retrieved the video evidence, found his name and his address. I went to his place and his wife said he's in jail—he robbed a store two weeks ago and the police caught him. As far as I've dug, he doesn't seem to have any relation to Ethan or Sarah."
"When you find out who paid him to cut the brakes," Damien instructed, "take all the evidence and give it to Detective Martin. He can deal with the rest."
"Got it," Marco said. "And now, what I've dug on William Walker is actually a bit strange. He was married to a woman before Caroline, but that woman's name is no longer in the registry. It's like she's a ghost. Not even a name."
"You think Sarah might be the daughter he had with this woman?" Damien asked.
"It's a possibility," Marco replied. "Did you find any DNA evidence that she's related to William?" Marco continued.
"No. But I spoke with some people who knew William Walker. They all said he was a good man, honest, poor, but hardworking. He had a small auto repair shop and the business was going well, but later he had to sell to pay off a debt. The biggest spender in that family was his wife Caroline; due to her spending, they ended up in debt. And another interesting thing I have discovered is, their daughter Chloe turns out to be Caroline's daughter with another man. She has no blood relationship with William whatsoever. William Walker married Caroline a month before bringing Sarah home."
"Keep digging," Damien said.
Meanwhile, Penelope, who was still furious about the last night's incident, was preparing to leave for the day. She called someone and told him to keep an eye on Damien. She needed to know where he was and who he was with at all times. Then she plastered a sweet smile on her face and went to find Don to tell him goodbye. "Grandpa, I have some things to do around the engagement, so I must go, but I'll be back for dinner."
"Remember to eat breakfast first," Don said.
"Thank you, Grandpa. I'll meet my parents for a meal later."
"Send them my best regards," Don replied.
"Will do," she said, and sent an air kiss to her grandpa, who smiled and said, "This lovely child... if only Damien could see it more clearly."
Don was tired from the sleepless night, then he called for his trusted housekeeper, Lee.
"Lee," Don said, his voice heavy with a weary sadness. "Come here, sit."
Lee sat opposite him, his expression knowing. "What's on your mind, Sir?"
"It's Damien," Don confessed, the words a difficult admission. "Am I pushing him to do something he doesn't want to do, just because I want to secure this alliance with the Wellingtons and pay off the old debt?"
"Sir," Lee replied, "Mr. Damien, as far as I can tell, doesn't care about Miss Penelope."
"Do you think I'm making a mistake by pushing him to get engaged? Does he really have someone he loves?" Don asked.
"May I speak frankly?" Lee said.
Don nodded.
"I've known you for over 40 years, Mr. Sterling. In matters of the heart, you are indeed clueless."
"Then tell me, Lee, what should I do?"
Lee looked at him for a long moment, his eyes filled with a quiet wisdom. He didn't offer a direct answer. Instead, he simply said, "The wise don't ask. The wise act."
Don looked at him, the weight of the words settling in his mind. He knew what Lee meant. The time for questioning was over. He had to make a choice. And he knew, deep down, that he needed to choose between the future of his company—his life's legacy—and his grandson's happiness. What's more important?
Later that day, Penelope arrived at the Wellington family company. As she stepped out of her car, a voice cried out from the street. "Miss Wellington!"
It was Chloe. Penelope ignored her, walking briskly toward the entrance with her bodyguard close behind.
"Don't you want to know about your fiancé and Sarah?" Chloe yelled again, her voice desperate.
That single name stopped Penelope in her tracks. She remembered Damien's whispered confession. She waved her bodyguard away and turned to face Chloe. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.
"I'm here to help you," Chloe said, her eyes alight with a frantic mix of fear and cunning.
"Help me? Why do you think I need your help?"
"I'm Sarah's sister," Chloe said, a sly smirk on her face. "And I know everything about her relationship with Damien."
Penelope's gaze hardened. "Follow me." As they walked into the opulent building together, a triumphant expression spread across Chloe's face. The corners of her lips curled into a self-satisfied grin. The golden ticket was finally in her hands.