Chapter 48
Chapter 48
DAMIEN
I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white, my foot pressing harder on the accelerator than 1 should’ve. The road ahead was clear, the city lights stretching endlessly before me, but my mind was a chaotic storm.
I hadn’t been home since Rosalie confronted me about the video.
Currently right now, I was driving back from work, feeling anxious to go back home and face Rosalie.
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Thoughts of Rosalie, the video, and the way her voice cracked with betrayal circled endlessly, each more painful than the
last.
How had it come to this?
I’d left the house not because I didn’t want to face her, but because I couldn’t. Her tears, the way she looked at me–it made me feel like I was drowning, like no matter what I said, nothing would be enough. The truth didn’t matter anymore. That damned video was all the proof she needed to believe the worst about me.
I swerved around a corner, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached. “How the hell did she even get it?” I muttered to myself. The thought gnawed at me, sharp and relentless. “That damn secretary. It had to be her. Who else would’ve had access?”
I imagined her smug face as she forwarded the clip to Rosalie, probably congratulating herself for exposing me. “Ungrateful snake,” I hissed, the words bitter on my tongue. “After everything I’ve done for her…” My grip on the wheel tightened, my knuckles turning even paler.
The car roared as I pressed harder on the gas, but no amount of speed seemed to calm the rage building in my chest. It only grew hotter, more suffocating. I needed a distraction, something to shut off my mind before I did something reckless.
Spotting a bar on a quiet street corner, I slammed on the brakes and pulled over. The neon sign flickered, casting a dim blue glow over the entrance. It wasn’t the kind of place I usually went to, but tonight, I didn’t care.
Inside, the air was warm and smelled faintly of alcohol and wood polish. The bar was quiet, save for a few scattered patrons hunched over their drinks. As I stepped in, the bar owner glanced up, recognition flashing in his eyes.
“Mr Damien,” he greeted, his voice respectful but cautious. “Been a while since I’ve seen you here.”
I nodded curtly. “Whiskey. Neat,” I said, brushing past him to take a seat at the bar. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
He moved quickly, setting the glass in front of me with practiced ease. “Rough night?” he asked hesitantly.
I shot him a look that must’ve answered his question because he stepped back, raising his hands in silent apology.
I downed the drink in one go, the burn in my throat a welcome distraction from the storm inside me. “Another,” I said, sliding the glass toward him.
As he refilled my drink, my mind drifted back to Rosalie. I could still hear her voice, trembling with anger and hurt. The way she looked at me, like I was the worst kind of man–someone who’d betrayed her in the most personal way.
But I hadn’t. Not in the way she thought. That kiss…. it had meant nothing. A mistake. A lapse in judgment. But how could I explain that to her when the evidence seemed so damning?
My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me from my thoughts. I didn’t need to look to know it wasn’t Rosalie. She wouldn’t call. Not after the way I’d stormed out.
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Chapter 48
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Instead, I pulled it out and scrolled through my contacts until I found the name I was looking for. My secretary.
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“What were you thinking. Damien?” I muttered to myself as I hit dial. “Kissing her. Letting it happen. You gave her all the ammo she needed to destroy you.”
“Hello?” her voice came through the line, hesitant.
“You’ve got some nerve,” I spat, my voice low and cold.
“Mr. Damien?” she asked, clearly confused.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” I snapped. “How dare you send that video to my wife?”
“What video?” she stammered, her voice rising with panic.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about!” I barked, slamming my hand on the bar. The sound echoed, drawing a few glances, but I didn’t care.
“I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she pleaded, her voice shaking. “I didn’t send anything to Mrs. Rosalie!” “Don’t lie to me,” I growled. “You think you can go through the security footage, pull that clip, and meddle in my marriage? You’re out of your mind if you think I’ll let you get away with it.”
“Mr. Damien, I would never-”
“You’re fired,” I cut her off. “Effective immediately. Don’t bother coming back to the office.”
“Please, you have to believe me-”
I ended the call before she could finish, tossing my phone onto the bar. Whether she was guilty or not, I couldn’t risk keeping her around. She was a liability now.
The bar owner placed another glass of whiskey in front of me, and I downed it just as quickly as the first. The alcohol was beginning to take the edge off, but it wasn’t enough.
A woman approached me, her smile too bright, her dress clinging in all the wrong places. “Hey there,” she purred, sliding onto the stool beside me. “You look like you could use some company.”
I didn’t bother looking at her. “Not interested,” I said flatly.
“Oh, come on,” she pressed, leaning in closer. “A guy like you shouldn’t be drinking alone.”
I turned my head slowly, meeting her gaze with a glare that made her flinch. “I said, not interested.”
She huffed and muttered something under her breath as she walked away, but I didn’t care. The last thing I needed was more complications.
The drinks kept coming, and I kept knocking them back. The anger in my chest had dulled to a simmer, but the weight of everything still pressed down on me. No matter how much I drank, I couldn’t escape the mess I’d made of my life.
Eventually, I stood, swaying slightly as the room spun around me. The bar owner hurried over, his expression concerned. “You’ve had enough, Damien,” he said firmly. “Why don’t you let me call you a cab?”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, though my unsteady steps said otherwise. Taking out my wallet, I tossed him a bundle of cash, not minding the fact that it was more than what I ordered.
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Chapter 48
“Listen,” he said, stepping in front of me. “I don’t want to see your name in the papers tomorrow because you wrapped your car around a pole. Call someone to drive you home”
1 opened my mouth to argue but stopped. Even in my drunken haze, I knew he was right.
“Fine,” I muttered, pulling out my phone. It took me a few tries to dial my driver’s number, and when he answered, I slurred out my location.
The bar owner helped me into a chair, shaking his head. “You’re lucky you’ve got people to take care of you.”
“Lucky,” I scoffed bitterly, leaning back against the chair. “Yeah, sure.”
Twenty minutes later, my driver arrived. He didn’t say much, just took the keys I tossed him and helped me to the car.
As I slumped into the back seat, the weight of everything hit me again. Rosalie’s face, the accusations, the mess I’d made.
“What the hell am I doing?” I whispered, the words barely audible over the sound of the engine.
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