Chapter 2 - The Locked Door
The long, carpeted hallway on the second floor was cool and serene, offering a welcome reprieve from the overwhelming noise of the party below. The ambient lighting was dim, illuminating the framed abstract artwork lining the walls of my dream home.
I walked slowly, one hand holding the mahogany balustrade, the other resting over my unborn son and daughter. My mind was racing, calculating the financial audits I planned to execute early Monday morning.
I reached the double mahogany doors of the master suite, pushed them open, and stepped inside, expecting to find the room empty, cool, and quiet.
Instead, the scene before me caused my blood to run cold.
Standing beside my king-sized bed were two people who had no business being in my private quarters.
Damian was already there—having taken the secondary service elevator from the kitchen wing—standing side-by-side with Serena.
Serena was wearing an emerald-green silk gown that clung to her figure, a glass of dark red wine held loosely in her right hand. Her blonde hair was pinned up in a loose, deliberately disheveled style, and her crimson lips were curved into a lazy, triumphant smirk.
They weren't discussing floral arrangements. They were standing intimately close, Serena's hand resting comfortably on the lapel of Damian's tuxedo jacket.
My breath caught in my throat. I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind struggling to process the visual evidence unfolding right before my eyes.
"Well," Serena laughed softly, her tone dripping with malicious amusement as she took a slow sip of her wine. "It's about time you showed up, Victoria. We were beginning to think you were going to faint on the stairs."
My chest felt suffocated, as if all the oxygen had been pulled from the room. "What is this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Serena... Damian... what are you doing in here?"
I expected panic. I expected them to spring apart, to offer frantic, clumsy excuses, to plead for my understanding.
Instead, Damian calmly turned toward me. He didn't look flustered. He didn't look ashamed. He walked slowly toward the entrance, reached out, and closed the heavy mahogany door behind me.
Click.
The sound of the brass lock turning sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room.
Damian turned back around, a slow, terrifying smile spreading across his face. It was not the charming, warm grin he displayed for the news cameras or the deferential expression he adopted in front of my board of directors. This smile was cruel, sharp, and utterly devoid of humanity.
"Perfect," Damian said, his voice smooth and terrifyingly calm. "Now we can finally stop playing this ridiculous game."
He walked over to the marble-topped dresser near the bed, picked up a thick leather folder bound in black ribbon, and tossed it violently onto the mattress. The heavy stack of legal documents slid across the silk duvet, stopping right in front of me.
"The company belongs to me now, Victoria," he said flatly.
I stared at the thick stack of paper, then looked up into his cold, dark eyes. "What are you talking about, Damian? Sterling Biometrics is a private corporation founded on my patents. You hold ten percent of sweat equity."
"Oh, Victoria," Serena interjected from the edge of the bed, crossing her silk-clad legs with a soft rustle of fabric. "You've always been so wonderfully brilliant with code and algorithms... and so unbelievably easy to manipulate when it comes to emotional matters."
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Damian took two steps closer, invading my personal space until I could smell the faint scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the metallic tang of whiskey.
"You are going to sign every single share of your voting stock over to me tonight," Damian said softly, his tone flat and unyielding. "You don't have a choice."
