The very first time Alina stood before a crowd—greeting guests at an exhibition, volunteering at an orphanage as a philanthropist, or dressed in elegance at a conference hosted by elites—she was ten.
She could still hear her father's gravelly voice as he leaned in close:
"Lucas is not the smart one. You are. You're the only one who can take over after me."
He had grinned, ruffled her hair, and nudged her forward to greet the guests—even though she was trembling.
Walter Graves was… stoic. Calculated. Manipulative. He gave orders, and the world followed.
After introducing her to the public eye, he ruled her life for the next fifteen years. Even in death, he still ruled her.
Like now.
Behind the podium, as she stood addressing the guests gathered for the NGO conference, her trembling hands remained clasped—hidden. It didn't show on her face. Her voice never wavered.
It was firm. Certain. Just like Walter Graves.
And to them—to everyone watching—that's all they saw. 'Him.'
And she hated every bit of it.
When she began to speak, her voice flowed smooth and steady, a sharp contrast to the turmoil roiling inside her.
And as her words filled the air, silence settled across the room.
"The Graves Company will join hands with The Sun NGO to support orphanages, the impoverished masses…"
Her gaze swept across the room. Blinding lights focused on her, making it difficult to read the faces around her, but she could tell their gaze peered on hers.
The tables were round, decorated with flowers. Guests were dressed in suits, elegant gowns, the typical display of wealth. The elites, all gathered here to support an NGO—at least, that's what they wanted everyone to believe.
But as she stared at their fixed expressions, all she could see was her father's half-smile, his narrowing gaze. They did things they didn't believe in, just to be embraced by society. They pretended to be philanthropists, but behind the cameras, they did nothing to help the poor.
And now, she would have to pretend too.
She had finished her speech and was walking toward the far end of the room, where her team stood. Mya and another worker in a suit were laughing, clinking glasses, and picking at a dessert plate.
"Don't you think we should join the others?" the new worker asked, uncertainty in his voice. He looked like a teenager, clearly under Mya's influence.
"Let them be," Mya giggled, scooping a forkful of cake into her mouth. As she chewed, she mumbled, "I came here for the food, not some sick conference... Oh!" Her eyes widened when she spotted Alina.
The boy flinched, panic flashing across his face. "Ma... m..ma," he stammered. He must have been a new recruit, as she didn't recognize his face, though she didn't know every employee in the company.
Alina folded her arms across her chest, watching them with a sharp, narrowing gaze. She sighed. At least the media wasn't in this part of the room.
"I need a dessert myself," she said tiredly.
Mya giggled, handing her a slice of cake. "I knew you needed one. And this"—she gestured to the cake—"will take away all your worries."
Alina thanked Mya, taking the cake. Indeed, she needed to relieve herself of all the stress. And no, it wasn't about the pressure of work, standing on podiums and addressing crowds. It was the stress of thinking about Damien, the fear that at any moment, he might step into her life, reminding her of what her father had done and punishing her for his sins.
Christ!
Would it ever stop? Could she ever stop thinking about him? But the truth was, she couldn't. Not since receiving that call from Victor. Not since he told her that Damien could show up at any time. Now, she couldn't stop thinking about him. And worse… she was almost anticipating it.
Externally, her face betrayed none of the turmoil inside. She munched on the cake without a care, not even noticing the glances others cast her way. The way she gripped the cake with her bare hand and devoured it, one bite after another, you might have thought she hadn't eaten in three days.
"Heh… Alina, you might want to slow down," Mya said, her voice awkward. She smiled, but Alina didn't slow down.
"Easy… easy," Mya added, still smiling.
"Wine," Alina said, her mouth full of cake, staring hard at the guests who wouldn't stop staring at her. What, she wanted to yell, have you never seen anyone eat before? Heavens, there was plenty of food left to be served by the guests themselves. How had she never noticed the trays of food at events before?
"Here's your wine," Mya offered, handing her a glass with a sheepish smile. In truth, she was relieved that Alina was finally paying attention to the food. For the past month, she had wondered why Alina kept spacing out. What was bothering her? Was it her brother, Lucas? They never seemed to get along—every phone call ended in disagreement.
Alina blinked at the glass in Mya's hand. "Oh, thank you, Mya. You're the best." She took the cup and gulped it down, then set it on the food table.
"My God, you should have more cake," Mya said, offering her another plate. Alina shook her head.
"That's enough for today… besides," she paused as her stomach rumbled—not from hunger. Damn it, she shouldn't have eaten so much sugar. "I'll visit the restroom," she said, her face contorted in a grimace. Despite the discomfort, she stood tall, unbending—like a statue. No one would know the turmoil brewing in her stomach.
"Oh, of course," Mya said, dropping the cake onto the table. "I'll stay here and wait for you."
"If I'm gone for too long, check up on me," Alina whispered. Damn, why was she feeling this way? She wasn't someone who let the crowd affect her. In moments of danger, even when darkness loomed, she had been a force to be reckoned with, fearing nothing. But now, in this room full of people, she couldn't shake the feeling that danger lurked.
"Very well, my friend," Mya said, sensing her discomfort. "Go... go on."
Alina nodded and started toward the restroom. She glanced back to find Mya still smiling and waving at her. That was Mya—never asking uncomfortable questions. If Alina needed something or felt uneasy, Mya was always there. She, on the other hand, had never asked about Mya's needs, never inquired about her life. She had simply gone with the flow. And now, she wished she could do better—be better.
The hallway leading to the restroom was eerily quiet, as though no one wanted to go near it. It gave her an unsettling feeling.
"Get it together, Alina. You're not someone to fear anything." And it was the truth. She had always been the tough one, the calm one, the quiet and observant one. Nothing scared her. Nothing broke her. She was the complete opposite of Lucas.
There was a time when they were younger, and a rat had gotten into their kitchen and eaten all her pancakes. She had been annoyed, so she took action. While Lucas scrambled for his life, Alina grabbed a bat and took care of the problem.
That was when her father began to notice her. One day, he told her, "You're just like me—stone hard and fit to run the company someday," he had said, flashing that creepy smile he always wore.
She had made up her mind then. She would never do anything to make him notice her, so she stayed quiet and observant.
But in the end, her father had won. After years of his tutoring and manipulation, she had taken over his company. Worse still, she was becoming just like him.
After finishing in the restroom and relieving herself, Alina stared at her reflection in the mirror. Today, she had tied her chestnut hair into a neat bun. It framed her sculpted face perfectly, accentuating her soft, deep brown eyes. Her brown eyes, ever calm refused to betray any hint of defiance, just like her demeanor. Except now her lips—was set in a thin, pouted line.
'Would she be able to handle it?' she wondered. Just as she had handled everything before. If Damien appeared suddenly, would she be able to manage him?
She hardened her gaze, trying to steel herself. "I've handled every obstacle that's come my way. This... this is just a small matter."
She adjusted her maroon skirt and blazer, ensuring her white button-up shirt was spotless, then stepped out of the restroom. The eerie silence greeted her once again, but this time, she sensed something else.
It could be another guest coming to relieve themselves, but a nagging feeling lingered. She paused, her heart beating rapidly. Her gaze swept across the dimly lit hallway, where yellow bulbs cast shadows, making it difficult to see every corner clearly.
"Get yourself together," she muttered, turning to head back to the conference hall. For heaven's sake, nothing was just going to jump out and pounce on her. Not like some beast lived in these halls. But as she turned, a sharp breath caught in her throat as she saw the figure standing before her.
God help her, Damien Cole in real life was even more intimidating. He wore a black tailored suit that clung to his muscles, but she didn't dare let her gaze wander over his body. Her attention was fixed on his face. His grey eyes bore into hers, razor-sharp, almost piercing.
He was tall—much taller than her, even in heels. And his face... God must have taken his time crafting this one. He was unimaginably handsome. His sculpted jawline did nothing to quell the pounding in her chest. But more than all of that, he had this dangerous look about him—something that screamed 'run'.. or 'if I catch you, you'll never escape.' It reminded her of those handsome men from the books she read.
"How nice it is, to finally meet you," his lips curved into a dangerous smile, making her heart skip a beat.
Perhaps Lucas was right—she wouldn't be able to handle him.
He walked toward her, his hands sliding into the pockets of his tailored trousers. His steps were slow, deliberate, and she almost wanted to step back, away from him, away from what he was doing to her heart. But instead, she stood frozen, her gaze locked on him.
"You can handle anything you set your mind to," her father's words echoed in her head. 'All you have to do is look for their weaknesses, and voilà, you win by using it against them.' Oh, how she wanted to rid herself of that thought, but how could she when he always won?
It had to be wrong, using someone's weakness against them—but if she had to win, she could at least make Damien Cole bend to her will.