Damien POV:
This name looks familiar," I said, pointing at her father's name.
"Yeah. We were partners once, before he died," Xavier replied, but something about it didn't sit right. I'd definitely seen that name somewhere else.
Then—bam—it hit me.
"No, not that. Do you remember that spam message you got two weeks before he died?"
Xavier leaned back against the headrest, trying to recall.
Suddenly, he lifted his head, his expression turning sharp.
"Yeah, I do. It was a request to kill him. In exchange for a huge reward." He scoffed. "Gosh, that was so fu*king insulting."
I remembered his reaction that day. He had almost exploded.
"Do I look like a fu*king assassin or what," he'd snapped back then.
"Were you able to track the sender?" I asked.
"No. It was from an unverified email."
Yeah… she clearly didn't commit that murder. She's obviously being framed.
I sighed and set the file down. Well, that wasn't my business. She would have to sort it out herself.
I waved my hand, signaling Xavier's bodyguards to leave us for a moment.
When they were gone, I turned back to him—but he spoke first.
"I know what you're about to say. Save it. I have zero interest in her."
I felt a pang of sympathy for him. Because of one mistake in his past—a mistake that wasn't even his fault—he had forbidden himself from ever falling in love again.
We were once three—the three musketeers—doing everything together and living life like kings.
But everything shattered in one damn night.
Now the third musketeer, Stiles, lived in the shadows… waiting for Xavier to make one mistake, just one, so he could make him pay.
That night, I tried everything I could to stop what happened.
Nothing worked.
And Xavier took the blame for it, accepted the curse Stiles placed on him—to never fall in love again.
It turned him into the cold, heartless man he is today.
I pushed those memories aside and looked back at him.
"Well, that's good at least. You'll be sparing her from an early death," I said, and he understood exactly what I meant.
"Well, she was doomed from the start," he replied, unbothered.
"I'm serious, Xavier."
"Look, I don't want to have this conversation. Not today. Not ever."
He stood and walked away. Just like that.
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling.
God, I wanted Xavier to be happy again. I missed the lively, cocky bad boy he used to be.
If only I'd come earlier that night… maybe I could've stopped her. Stopped everything.
Gosh.
My thoughts were cut short by a soft voice.
I sat up and stared at the figure standing in front of me.
Wow.
She was stunning.
Amber eyes shining like bright honey, glowing as if lit from inside. Her gaze was magnetic.
My eyes drifted down—her se*y hourglass figure, high cheekbones, soft full lips that curved into a shy smile.
Her skin was pale like snow, smooth and spotless like fresh milk.
And that pink-and-white-tipped hair… she looked like something drawn out of an animated fantasy.
No wonder her last name was Snow, not Wilson.
She stepped closer and tapped me lightly, snapping me back to reality.
"Good morning, sir. Are you alright?"
Her amber eyes sparkled with every blink.
Gosh, Damien, get a grip.
"I'm fine. I just remembered something. Who are you?" I lied.
"I'm Scarlett Snow," she said, extending her hand.
I took it.
"Damien Cross."
And let go.
Her hand was unbelievably soft—like cotton candy.
Fu*k, Damien, snap out of it.
I stood to leave, but she quickly moved in front of me, blocking my way.
"I'm sorry if I'm bothering you, sir, but I really need your help," she said.
I just stared—fascinated.
"What?"
"Please, can we go somewhere private? I don't want Mr. Grey to see me."
I nodded, understanding her fear instantly.
We went to the garden and she locked the doors behind us.
"Sir, I really need your help," she began.
"I'm listening."
She handed me her phone. The screen was badly cracked, but a news report was playing.
I watched, puzzled. Why did she need my help with this?
The video ended, and I moved to hand the phone back—
Then another video started.
What the—
It was a video of two people being madly intimate.
"What the heck is this?" I asked, turning the phone toward her.
Her eyes widened and she snatched it quickly.
"I'm so sorry. You weren't supposed to see that—I must have accidentally set it to shuffle," she said, clearly embarrassed.
"What do you want?" I asked.
"You see… after my dad died, I was accused of murdering him. They released me because of lack of evidence. My dad's company collapsed. I spent years rebuilding it, and the moment it finally came up again… I lost everything."
She paused and took a long breath. I could tell she was holding back tears.
"How did you lose it?" I asked.
"My fiancé. I gave him everything. He tricked me into signing the company over to him. And I—I caught him in bed with my best friend."
She wiped away a tear quickly, trying to hide it.
"Let me guess—the video I just saw was him and your best friend."
"Yeah…" she whispered. "And that's why I need your help, sir. You're the only one who can help me convince Mr. Grey. I want to make them pay. I want my father's company back. Everything they took. And I want to find out who murdered my dad."
Her voice wavered, pleading.
I was stunned. This girl had been through hell.
"Sir, please don't say no. Please," she begged, tears falling again.
I felt pity for her—real pity.
"What did Xavier say?" I asked.
"He won't even hear me out," she said helplessly.
I sighed.
"Well, if you want to strike a deal with him, you need to offer him something he wants. Something he needs. Instead of biting him."
She flushed in embarrassment.
"He was hurting me. That was my only defense," she muttered.
That's when I noticed the scratch under her jaw.
I didn't know what else to say, so I turned to leave—but she ran in front of me again, blocking me.
This girl had guts.
"Please, sir, help me. I promise to do anything," she said.
That word—anything—rang in my head like a bell.
An idea formed in my mind.
I pushed it away.
But it came back… and back.
I sighed.
"Did you say anything?"
"Yes, sir. Anything. I promise I won't betray you. Please… just give me a chance."
I smiled slowly.
"How would you like to make a deal with me instead?" I asked.
She stared up at me, stunned.