Chapter 80
The night draped over the city like a velvet curtain as they arrived at The Ember, one of Damien Prescott’s exclusive properties.
Zachary Blackwood was drowning in misery. For the first time in years, he did something reckless—he went drinking with his closest friend.
Damien personally picked him up, surprised by the rare call. Zachary never reached out unless absolutely necessary.
“Sometimes, I feel like your secret lover,” Damien murmured into Zachary’s ear, his tone teasing. In public, he was the epitome of confidence, but around Zachary, he turned into a chatterbox.
“I’ve never lowered my standards for any woman. Yet here I am, waiting around like some desperate mistress.”
Zachary shot him a sharp glance. “Never lowered your standards? You were practically groveling for Alyssa.”
“That was a momentary lapse!” Damien grinned. “But can you blame me? Your ex-wife is stunning. I couldn’t help myself.”
Zachary clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to throttle him.
Just then, two blonde women in barely-there dresses sauntered past. One of them winked at Damien, who smirked in return.
Zachary scoffed. “That’s what gets you excited? She’s nothing compared to her.”
“Who?” Damien’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Alyssa?”
Realizing his slip, Zachary stiffened.
Damien gasped dramatically. “Damn, Zachary! You’re cheating on me with your ex-wife? And here I thought your marriage was just a business arrangement. Typical man—always lying.” He smirked. “Though, with a woman like Alyssa around, I can’t blame you for caving.”
Zachary’s grip tightened around his whiskey glass. The way Damien spoke—as if he’d seen Alyssa naked, as if they’d been intimate—sent an unwelcome heat through him.
“I never touched her,” Zachary muttered, his cheeks burning. He downed the drink in one go.
Why was he even thinking about her like that?
As the night wore on, Damien finally asked the question weighing on his mind. “Zachary, can I ask you something? I’ve always wondered—why Vanessa? Why her?”
Zachary’s expression darkened. He hesitated before speaking. “My mother had depression. The rumors, my father’s neglect… she couldn’t take it. She jumped.”
His voice was hollow. “I was lost. I even tried to follow her.”
Slowly, he removed his watch, revealing a deep, jagged scar. A secret he’d kept for twenty years.
Damien’s breath hitched.
“Vanessa saved me. She was the only one who cared. Brought me desserts, invited me over, gave me her toys. Back then, she was my only light. I promised to marry her. And I will keep that promise.”
Damien sighed. “But people change. You haven’t seen her in years. What if she’s not the girl you remember? What then? Will you still cling to that promise, even if it destroys you?”
Zachary didn’t answer. His mind flashed to Alyssa—her sharp wit, her unshakable pride, those clear eyes untouched by the world’s cruelty.
His chest ached. He took another drink.
“You’re obsessed,” Damien teased, clinking their glasses. “Once you fixate on something, nothing can pull you away.”
When they finally left, their drivers stood waiting.
“Damien,” Zachary stopped him, voice low. “Why did Alyssa admit to it? Why didn’t she defend herself?”
Damien yawned. “Maybe she just doesn’t care anymore.”
“About what?”
“You.” Damien smirked. “She’s divorced you. Why would she care what you think? If she’s done with you, why bother with the Blackwoods’ opinion?” He shrugged. “Honestly, if I were her, I’d have hired someone to beat you up by now.”
With that, he climbed into his car and drove off.
Zachary’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white.
He wanted to strangle himself.
