Chapter Five: Damon DeVille
The name Damon DeVille was more than a name — it was a statement.
A warning.
A legend.
Every business tycoon, politician, and socialite in the country knew him. Some feared him. Some worshiped him. But everyone respected him.
By the age of nineteen, Damon DeVille had built an empire from the ground up — ruthless, efficient, and unshakably precise. Now, at thirty-two, his company stood as the number one in the nation and number two in the world. He was a man who conquered markets the way warriors conquered kingdoms — without mercy, without mistakes.
They said he could turn ashes into gold and rivals into dust.
But power was not the only thing that made people whisper his name.
Damon was devastatingly handsome — almost unfairly so. He had the kind of beauty that drew people in and broke them once they got too close. His face was all sharp lines and quiet danger, a jaw cut like it could slice glass, and lips that rarely curved into anything resembling warmth.
His amber eyes were his most striking feature — deep, mesmerizing, and unreadable. One glance was enough to silence a room. They gleamed like molten gold, cold and hypnotic, as if they saw straight through lies, straight through people.
He stood at an imposing 1.92 meters, broad-shouldered with a lean, sculpted frame that commanded attention wherever he went. His voice — low, rich, and smooth — had the kind of depth that made people listen, whether out of respect or surrender.
Many said he had no heart. Others said he'd simply locked it away long ago.
He was the country's most eligible bachelor — not because he was available, but because no one could reach him. Women wanted to tame him; men wanted to be him. Yet, Damon DeVille belonged to no one.
Cold. Calculated. Unforgiving.
Every deal he made came with a price, every smile hid a warning, and every word he spoke carried the weight of authority.
But beneath that power and perfection lay something else — a secret.
Something buried deep enough that even he refused to look back at it.
And as fate would have it, that secret had just walked back into his life…
in the form of a seventeen-year-old girl with midnight hair, snow-white skin, and eyes that looked too much like someone he once knew.
Her name was Athena Brown.
And Damon DeVille's calm, controlled world was about to crack.