Elias broke on a Tuesday.
Not because Tuesdays were cruel, but because cruelty had learned to be efficient.
The city was loud that morning sirens echoing between towers, traffic grinding forward, the kind of noise that reminded people the world would keep moving regardless of who fell beneath it. Elias stood at the edge of Damien's office, jacket still on, fingers resting against the glass, watching the skyline as if it might answer him.
Behind him, Damien watched in silence.
"You don't have to do this today," Damien said.
Elias didn't turn. "Yes. I do."
"They're waiting for you to slip."
"That's why I won't."
Damien crossed the room slowly. "This isn't strength, Elias. It's exposure."
Elias finally looked back. His expression was calm too calm.
"No," he said. "This is authorship."
The interview request had come directly from the Global Financial Review.
Not a hit piece.
Something worse.
A platform.
They wanted Elias alone. No Damien. No corporate framing. Just him, across from a journalist known for quiet cruelty and surgical questions.
"They'll turn you into spectacle," Damien said earlier, voice tight.
"They'll try," Elias replied. "And fail."
"Because you're smarter?"
"Because I'm done hiding."
That had scared Damien more than any threat Marcus had made.
The studio lights were harsh.
Deliberately unflattering.
Elias sat straight-backed, hands folded, gaze steady as the host smiled with practiced neutrality.
"You've been described," the journalist began, "as the unseen hand behind one of the most powerful men in the industry."
Elias nodded. "I've read worse."
"Are you?"
"No."
A pause. Calculated.
"You advise him."
"Yes."
"You influence him."
"Yes."
"And you love him."
The silence stretched.
The audience inhaled as one.
Elias didn't blink.
"Yes," he said.
The journalist's eyebrows lifted not in surprise, but satisfaction.
"Do you believe that compromises your integrity?"
Elias tilted his head slightly. "I believe pretending it doesn't exist would."
"So you admit bias."
"I admit humanity."
The journalist leaned forward. "Some would call that weakness."
Elias smiled.
"Only people who mistake detachment for objectivity."
Damien watched from his office.
He didn't sit.
Didn't breathe properly.
Every word Elias spoke felt like a wire pulled tighter around Damien's chest not because Elias was faltering, but because he wasn't.
This wasn't defense.
It was declaration.
"He's dismantling their narrative," legal counsel murmured.
Damien didn't answer.
Because Elias wasn't dismantling anything.
He was replacing it.
"They say you've risen too quickly," the journalist continued. "That your proximity to power accelerated your influence."
Elias nodded. "It did."
"And that you enjoyed it."
Elias paused.
Not long.
Just enough.
"I enjoyed being effective," he said. "There's a difference."
"And the power?"
"I respected it."
"Did it ever tempt you?"
Elias looked directly into the camera.
"Yes."
The admission rippled outward.
"And?"
"And I chose restraint," Elias said. "Which is why I never asked for visibility. You only noticed me when it became inconvenient."
The journalist leaned back slightly.
"That sounds like accusation."
"It's observation."
By the time the interview ended, the room felt altered.
Not explosive.
Shifted.
Elias stood, thanked the host politely, and left without another word.
Damien was waiting when he returned.
They didn't speak at first.
Damien reached out
then stopped himself.
"You did it," Damien said quietly.
Elias removed his jacket. "They wanted confession."
"And you gave them control."
"No," Elias replied. "I gave them truth."
Damien searched his face. "You're shaking."
Elias exhaled. "I know."
Damien stepped closer. "You don't have to be composed with me."
Elias finally let it crack.
Just a little.
"I don't know how to be anything else," he admitted.
Damien pulled him in.
Not forceful.
Protective.
Elias leaned into it, forehead resting against Damien's shoulder.
Just for a moment.
The response was immediate.
Public sentiment fractured not against Elias, but around him.
Some condemned him.
Others admired him.
Most couldn't ignore him.
"They've turned you into a symbol," Damien said that night, scrolling through reactions.
Elias sat on the bed, sleeves rolled up, eyes distant.
"They wanted a villain," Elias said. "They got complexity."
Damien looked at him. "That scares them more."
Elias nodded. "Complexity can't be erased."
Damien hesitated. "You knew this would cost you."
"Yes."
"And you did it anyway."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Elias looked up.
"Because if I didn't," he said softly, "they would always believe they could take me from you by pressure alone."
Damien swallowed.
"You shouldn't have to prove that."
"I wanted to."
Later, the night pressed close around them.
The city lights dimmed. The noise softened.
Elias lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
"Do you resent me?" he asked quietly.
Damien turned toward him immediately. "For what?"
"For choosing exposure over safety."
Damien reached out, fingers brushing Elias's wrist.
"I resent the world for making you choose," he said.
Elias closed his eyes.
"And you?" he asked.
Damien's voice was steady. "I'm proud of you."
That did it.
The tears came not dramatic, not loud.
Just a slow, quiet release.
Damien didn't speak.
He stayed.
That was enough.
By morning, Marcus responded.
A statement. Controlled. Condescending.
But weaker.
"They're losing narrative control," Elias said, reading it.
Damien nodded. "They underestimated you."
"They underestimated what happens when people stop hiding," Elias replied.
Damien studied him. "You're not just standing beside me anymore."
Elias met his gaze. "I never was."
"What are you now?"
Elias thought for a moment.
"A choice they can't undo."
Damien smiled.
Slow.
Dangerous.
"Then let them learn," he said.
The war hadn't ended.
But something had shifted.
Elias was no longer a vulnerability.
He was a presence.
And Damien Blackwood who had built empires on control understood, finally, that power didn't come from shielding what you loved.
It came from standing beside it when the world demanded you let go.