At that moment Damien's grip around the phone tightened until the plastic creaked beneath the pressure of his fingers. His eyes were locked to the screen, yet he wasn't reading anymore. He had memorized the message every syllable, every implication.
His chest heaved with ragged breaths, and slowly, a storm began to swell behind his eyes.
"So..." he muttered bitterly under his breath, his voice low and venomous, "that bastard... that witch?"
His lips curled into a sneer.
"That fool—Valentina—actually planned all of this?"
He shot up from the chair, tossing the phone onto the glass table so hard that it slid across and clattered to the floor.
Pacing the room now, his fists clenched at his sides, Damien's mind spun with fury.
"All this time... I thought it was the media, I thought it was the board members. My father nearly disowned me, banished me abroad, and I was humiliated in front of people I used to command."
His voice grew louder, more unhinged.
