Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2 — The Docks of Despair
Three days later, I sat in the library, looking over documents for a new foundation Damon was creating in my name. It was an organization dedicated to helping underprivileged women in the city find housing and legal protection—the exact kind of thing I had desperately needed when I was alone.
I was startled by a commotion downstairs. I didn't get up immediately, but the sound of heavy boots and raised voices reached me through the heavy oak doors.
"Mr. Cross isn't here, and he gave instructions that you are not to be admitted!" a voice roared.
"I don't care about his instructions! I want to speak to the girl!" Caleb Caldwell. His voice sounded desperate, raw, like a man who had lost everything.
I stood up, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew Damon had dismantled his assets, but I hadn't realized Caleb would be foolish enough to come here. I walked to the door and pulled it open, my chin lifted, my eyes cold.
The security guard, a hulking man named Miller, was physically blocking Caleb from the entryway. Caleb looked terrible—his expensive suit was rumpled, his eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Caleb," I said, my voice echoing in the grand foyer.
He looked at me, his gaze manic. "You! You did this! You went to that monster and poisoned him against me! You lied about everything!"
"I told the truth," I said, stepping forward. I wasn't afraid of him anymore. He was a small man in a large suit. "I told the truth about what you tried to do to me. You made the choices, Caleb. You tried to corner a pregnant woman. You tried to manipulate your wife. You deserve every piece of ruin you have inherited."
Caleb lunged, but Miller had him by the scruff of his neck before he could move two feet.
"You think you’re untouchable?" Caleb shrieked, struggling. "You’re just a maid! You’re nothing but a plaything for him, and when he’s done with you, he’ll discard you like the trash you are!"
"Mr. Caldwell," a deep, chilling voice said from the top of the stairs.
We all froze. Damon was descending the staircase, one hand resting on the banister, the other tucked into his trouser pocket. He didn't look angry; he looked disappointed, like a teacher dealing with a particularly slow student.
"I believe I told you to stay away from my property," Damon said, his voice quiet but carrying an authority that made the air vibrate.
Caleb went pale. "Damon, please. Just let me talk to her. I can fix this. I can—"
"You can leave," Damon said, his eyes locking onto Caleb’s. "Or you can leave in a box. It is entirely your choice. But I am finished listening to the mewling of a broken man."
Damon gestured to Miller. The guard dragged Caleb toward the door, throwing him onto the gravel driveway outside. We watched as Caleb scrambled to his feet, threw one final, hate-filled look at the house, and sped away in his car.
Damon walked over to me, his hand settling on the small of my back. "Are you alright?"
"I’m fine," I said, exhaling. "He’s just pathetic."
"He is," Damon agreed, looking at the door. "But his desperation is a variable I no longer wish to track. Miller, ensure the perimeter is doubled. I want no more interruptions."
"Yes, sir," Miller replied, disappearing outside.
May you like
I leaned against Damon, the safety of his presence enveloping me. "He thinks you'll discard me."
Damon turned my face to his, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "He judges the world by his own rot. He cannot comprehend a devotion that doesn't have a transaction attached to it. He will never understand us, Maya. And that is his final failure."
