Page 32

Chapter 32

Damien

I sat in my car, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. The cold leather bit into my palms, but I didn’t care. I should have been panicking, should have been regretting what happened on the ice. The chaos, the violence—it wasn’t just a fight; it was a fucking breakdown. But strangely enough, I felt nothing but clarity.

Holly was back in my room, sleeping peacefully after the whirlwind of emotions and heat we had shared. I remembered how we came home together, how I fucked her twice more before fatigue finally pulled us under. Each moment with her felt like an anchor.

I glanced at the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of myself—disheveled, bruised, and high on adrenaline. My mind drifted back to her lips on mine, soft and inviting. The way she melted against me reminded me that I still had something real to hold onto.

My heart raced as thoughts of my father clawed their way to the surface. He had been distant ever since he learned about Holly's involvement with me again. But today? Today would be different. Today, I would confront him.

I breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, pushing away any lingering doubt. He needed to understand that this time was different; Holly wasn’t just some girl to me anymore—she was everything.

The engine rumbled beneath me as I turned the key in the ignition, feeling its power surge through my veins like a shot of whiskey straight to my core. I couldn’t hide from him any longer.

With one last glance at the building where she slept—the warmth and chaos coiled up inside—my resolve hardened. It was time for him to see that I wouldn’t be pushed around anymore.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers shaking slightly as I dialed. The line rang once. Twice. I could almost feel the weight of my father’s disapproval creeping in even before he answered.

“Damien, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice cut through the silence, clipped and laced with irritation.

I exhaled slowly, sharp enough to slice through the tension. “We need to talk.”

He scoffed, the sound dripping with condescension. “You think after that disaster I’m going to save your ass?”

I smirked coldly at the phone, feeling a surge of defiance. “Oh, you’re going to do more than that.”

“Is that so?” he challenged, his tone shifting from disbelief to annoyance. “You think you can just waltz back in here after making a fool of yourself and expect me to play along?”

“Look,” I said, leaning back in my seat as frustration clawed at my insides. “This isn’t about playing along anymore. You don’t get to dictate who I am or what I want.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment—long enough for me to feel a flicker of uncertainty before he responded. “What you want? You mean your little escapades with Holly? You really think this is going to end well for you?”

“I don’t care what you think,” I shot back, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “You don’t know anything about us—about what she means to me.”

“Damien…” His voice lowered, filled with an authority that had always made me toe the line growing up. “You’re jeopardizing everything we’ve built here. Your career, your future… it’s all on the line because of her.”

“You’ve never cared about me,” I countered, frustration spilling into my tone. “This is about control for you—just like always.”

“You’ll regret this,” he warned, but his threat didn’t hold weight anymore.

“No,” I said firmly. “I’m done regretting things that make me feel alive. I'll be at the estate in ten minutes. You will listen to me. You won't like what happens if you don't."

I hung up the phone before my father could fire off another lecture. The tension coiled in my gut as I drove to the estate, the familiar route only amplifying the memories that had haunted me for years. Each turn brought me closer to the office—the same office where every major decision about my life had been made without me.

The Sinclaire estate loomed ahead, its pristine facade a facade for the chaos that lurked within. As I parked and stepped out, the cold air bit at my skin, but I welcomed it. It sharpened my focus. I pushed through the heavy door and moved down the hallway before I entered the office.

The sight was all too familiar—trophies gleaming on shelves, reminders of victories that felt hollow now. Family pictures adorned the walls, but they meant nothing to me. They captured smiles that never reached our eyes, moments frozen in time while we were crumbling inside.

My father stood behind his desk, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His impatience radiated from him like a heatwave. “You’ve embarrassed this family, Damien,” he said, his voice cold and clipped.

I didn’t react; instead, I stepped closer to him, feeling a surge of anger bubbling beneath my skin.

“Oh, you mean like you embarrassed yourself when you let Mom ruin me?” The words slipped out before I could think better of them.

For just a moment, his expression flickered—something almost human crossed his features—but it vanished as quickly as it came. He replaced it with cold indifference, a mask he wore so effortlessly that it sickened me.

“We’re not discussing this,” he stated flatly.

I could feel the walls closing in around us, suffocating both of us in our own failures. But this time? I wasn’t going to let him brush aside what had happened to me—or what I’d become because of him and her. My fists clenched at my sides as I held his gaze.

I smirked, tilting my head as I studied my father’s rigid expression. “No, we are. You knew. You knew what she was doing to me, and you looked the other way.”

Silence stretched between us, thick with unspoken truths. I stepped closer, lowering my voice to a deadly whisper that hung in the air like a loaded gun.

“And if you don’t do exactly what I tell you, I’m going to make sure the entire world knows too.”

His breath hitched, and for a split second, I saw the facade crack.

“You think blackmailing me is going to work?” he shot back, but there was an edge of uncertainty lacing his words.

I leaned against the desk, feeling the smooth surface beneath my palms as I locked eyes with him. “I think you care more about your reputation than your own son.” The anger radiated off me like heat waves, each word designed to cut deeper than the last. “And I think if people find out exactly what’s been happening in this family, your precious legacy will burn to the ground.”

His jaw clenched tighter than a vice grip, and I could sense his irritation bubbling beneath the surface. But this time? This time he didn’t have control.

For the first time in our endless dance of manipulation and power plays, there was something uncertain flickering in his expression—fear mixed with anger.

I leaned in further. “You’re going to pull every fucking string you have and get me on the Serpents next season.”

The name rolled off my tongue—my escape route from this suffocating life.

“You’re going to make sure no one questions it,” I pressed on.

His gaze hardened once more as if he was wrestling with whether or not to yield to my demands. The seconds dragged out painfully long as he considered his options—his reputation weighed against the possibility of exposing everything he’d tried so hard to hide.

“And in return,” I added slowly, deliberately, “I walk away.”

I leaned back against the wall, crossing my arms, waiting for my father to say something—anything—that would hint he might actually care. But all I got was the hard set of his jaw, the way his eyes flicked over me with a mix of anger and disappointment.

“No team will take you after what happened on the ice,” he said, voice steady but laced with irritation. “You’ve ruined everything, Damien.”

I shrugged, not even feeling the weight of his words. “That’s not my problem.”

He straightened up, leaning forward on the desk like I’d just insulted him. “Not your problem? You think it’s just going to blow over? You think I can make this go away?”

“Figure it out,” I shot back. “That’s what you’re good at, right? Pulling strings and fixing messes?”

He scoffed, shaking his head as if I’d lost my mind. “You’re living in a fantasy if you think that’s going to work this time. Your name is mud right now. No one wants to deal with a kid who can’t keep his temper in check.”

“Maybe they should learn how to deal with it then.” I stepped closer, letting the anger boil over. “You want me to play nice while everyone else gets away with their bullshit?”

“Don’t you dare put this on anyone else!” He slammed his palm down on the desk, making the papers jump. “This is your mess. You chose to throw yourself into that fight!”

“And what? You expect me to sit here and let them walk all over me?” I leaned in closer, matching his intensity. “I’m done playing by your rules and pretending everything is perfect when it isn’t.”

His face twisted in frustration as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to rein in his anger. “What happens when they blacklist you from every team? When they refuse to even look at your talent because of how reckless you are?”

“Then maybe it’s time for a change,” I replied defiantly.

“You think it’s that easy?” he spat back, eyes narrowing into slits. “You don’t get to decide that for yourself anymore.”

“Oh please,” I sneered. “You’ve been making those decisions for me my whole life. I'm not afraid of you. Or her. Not anymore. What do you want? You know I'll tell everyone everything. And there's nothing that can make it go away."

His father narrowed his eyes, the kind of look that had made me shrink as a kid. “You expect me to believe you won’t come back and try to destroy me later?”

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Believe whatever the fuck you want. But this is the only offer you’re getting.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I could almost feel the tension radiating off him, weighing down the air in the room. He was weighing his options, probably calculating every possible angle like he always did.

Then finally, he exhaled sharply. “Fine.”

I turned to leave, feeling a strange mix of triumph and relief coursing through me. But just as I reached for the door handle, his voice stopped me.

“You really think she’ll stay?”

I stiffened at his words but didn’t turn around. A part of me wanted to tell him to shut up—wanted to scream that Holly was different.

But my father chuckled darkly, breaking through my thoughts like a knife through flesh. “You’re your mother’s son, Damien. Sooner or later, you’ll push her too far.”

His words hit harder than I expected, sending a jolt of anger through me. I clenched my fists at my sides and swallowed hard, trying to shake off the sting of truth hidden in his taunt.

Something tightened in my chest, but I didn’t let it show. This was the last time my father got to fuck with me. I glanced over my shoulder, smirking as I felt a surge of defiance wash over me.

“You’re right. I am my mother’s son.” I held his gaze, letting the smirk deepen on my lips. “But I’ll never be yours.”

Then I walked out. And I didn’t look back.

The hallway felt endless as I made my way to my room, the adrenaline still thrumming through my veins. Each step echoed in my mind—a reminder that this was a turning point. A moment of clarity amidst all the chaos.

When I reached my room, I slammed the door shut behind me, locking it out of habit. The weight of everything settled in around me, heavy yet freeing at the same time. The walls seemed to close in, reminders of the past taunting me from every corner.

I moved quickly, packing a bag with only what I actually needed: a few clothes, my phone charger, and the small stash of cash hidden in my desk drawer. Each item represented a break from the past—a tangible sign I was done playing their game.

I left everything else behind—the trophies that represented expectations, the photos that felt like chains wrapped around my throat. They were just remnants of a life crafted by someone else’s vision—someone who thought they could mold me into a version of perfection that would never be mine.

For the first time in years, as I zipped up the bag and threw it over my shoulder, I felt free. The sensation washed over me like a wave crashing against jagged rocks—painful yet exhilarating.

I stepped outside into the crisp air, breathing deeply as if tasting freedom for the first time. No more hiding behind their expectations or their twisted ideals. No more letting them define who I was supposed to be.

I had made my choice; now it was time to own it.