Damien's POV
I walked through the dimly lit corridors of the mansion, my body aching from the fight, but my mind sharper than ever. Every step I took brought me closer to the one person I loathed to face—Bryan Reynolds.
My father wasn't a man who tolerated failure, weakness, or defiance. He was ruthless in business, relentless in control, and utterly devoid of human warmth. If he wanted to see me at this hour, it wasn't for small talk.
The study doors loomed ahead, massive and intimidating, but I didn't hesitate. Pushing them open, I stepped inside, meeting the cold gaze of the man who had shaped me into who I was.
Bryan sat behind his mahogany desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand, his suit immaculate as always. The dim lighting cast shadows on his sharp features, making him look even more calculating.
"Daemon." His voice was smooth, indifferent, like he hadn't just summoned me in the middle of the night. "You took your time."
I shrugged, ignoring the sting in my muscles. "I was busy."
His eyes flickered to the bruises forming along my jaw and temple. "I can see that."
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "What do you want?"
Bryan swirled his drink, taking his time before answering. Finally, he met my gaze, his expression unreadable. "The wedding date has been finalized."
A cold weight settled in my chest.
So, it was happening.
"Two weeks from now," he continued, as if he hadn't just detonated a bomb in my life. "No delays, no negotiations. The media will be notified in due time."
I exhaled slowly, forcing my emotions into submission. "And Aurora?"
"She has already agreed."
I narrowed my eyes. "Did she agree? Or was she forced, just like me?"
A ghost of a smirk played at his lips. "Does it matter?"
Of course, it didn't. Not to him.
Bryan stood, walking toward the liquor cabinet, his movements slow and deliberate. "You seem restless, son," he mused, pouring himself another drink. "I assume you're still bitter about Sinclair's little... persuasion."
I clenched my jaw, my hands curling into fists. Bitter? That was an understatement.
Nelson Sinclair had me in a chokehold, forcing me into this marriage with his daughter to protect the one thing I couldn't let crumble—my company.
My father had been amused by the whole thing. He didn't care about my pride or my resentment. He only cared about securing an alliance with the Sinclairs, strengthening our grip on the corporate world.
"This isn't about the blackmail anymore," Bryan continued, taking a sip. "It's about power. About ensuring Reynolds Corp doesn't crumble under speculation and scandal. You marrying Aurora solidifies our standing."
I forced a smirk, though it didn't reach my eyes. "You mean it benefits you."
He chuckled, low and unbothered. "It benefits us all, whether you see it or not."
Silence stretched between us, heavy and unrelenting.
I wanted to argue, to lash out, to tell him to go to hell. But what good would that do? The decision had already been made for me.
I had lost the right to fight the moment Nelson Sinclair walked into my office with his threats.
"Are we done?" I asked, my voice cold.
Bryan studied me for a moment before nodding. "For now."
Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked out.
The second the doors shut behind me, I exhaled, rolling the tension out of my shoulders.
Two weeks.
In fourteen days, I would be standing at the altar, tying myself to a woman I barely knew, all because of the sins of our fathers.
My hands curled into fists.
If this was my fate, then fine.
But I wouldn't make it easy for them.