The chatter inside the elite university’s glass-walled cafeteria was a dull hum against the pouring rain outside.
Damian sat near the corner booth, surrounded by the school’s golden circle... Julian, Gary, Kiara, Vivian, and two other heirs of major corporate dynasties. Unlike them, Damian hadn’t walked through the prestigious gates because of a trust fund.
He was here on a full academic scholarship, driven by a cold, relentless intellect that set him leagues apart from his peers.
He ignored the loud laughter around him, his dark eyes focused intently on his tablet screen, his stylus rapidly scribbling complex code for a private project.
A sleek glass bottle of Coke was slid smoothly onto the table right beside his arm.
"You’ve been working for three hours straight without a break," Vivian murmured softly, sliding into the seat right beside him. She leaned in close, her eyes fixated on him, desperate to draw his attention away from the screen. "Take a sip, Damian."
Damian didn’t even look up. "Not interested, Vivian."
Before she could speak again, his phone buzzed loudly against the wood. Damian glanced at the caller ID... Arthur Sterling.
He answered immediately, raising the phone to his ear. "Father?"
"Damian," Arthur Sterling’s heavy, weary voice came through the speaker. "I need you to drop whatever you’re doing and come to St. Jude’s Hospital right away."
Damian’s brows furrowed, his stylus stopping mid-air. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"I’m fine. Just get down here immediately," Arthur commanded, his tone leaving no room for negotiation before hanging up.
Damian stood up, sliding his tablet into his leather messenger bag. Vivian instantly rose with him, reaching out to touch his arm. "Is everything okay? I can drive you, Damian..."
"No," Damian cut her off coldly, brushing past her without a backward glance. "Stay here."
Twenty minutes later, Damian strided through the sterile, white halls of the hospital. He found his father standing outside a private room on the pediatrics floor, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.
"Father," Damian called out, stopping beside him. "What’s going on?"
Arthur sighed, rubbing his tired temples as he gestured toward the small glass window on the door. "Anastasia Vance is inside. I need you to stay with her until she regains consciousness."
Damian blinked, his expression hardening into dark indifference. "Why? What does the Vance family’s business have to do with me?"
"She’s been starving for three days, Damian," Arthur whispered gravely, a flash of disgust crossing his face. "Her parents locked her in her room without food or water because she failed to meet their absurd standards for an upcoming gala. She collapsed at school this morning. They punished her for something that wasn’t even her fault."
Damian remained completely nonchalant. He knew of the Vance family... one of the most ruthless, arrogant corporate bloodlines in the city. "And why am I babysitting her? Let her parents handle it."
"I have an emergency board meeting that I can’t miss, and someone needs to make sure she’s looked after," Arthur insisted sternly. He reached into his coat, pulling out an envelope of cash and pressing it into Damian’s hand. "Wait until her IV drip finishes, then take her home. And feed her something on the way... God knows if those monsters will even allow her to eat tonight."
Damian stared down at the cash, thoroughly unamused. He had always assumed the sixteen-year-old Vance daughter was just another spoiled, bratty princess who got everything handed to her.
An hour passed before the IV drip finally emptied. Damian stepped into the quiet hospital room just as the girl on the bed began to stir.
Ana slowly opened her eyes. She looked ridiculously small in the oversized hospital gown, her pale skin practically translucent, her dark eyes wide and full of lingering fear. When her gaze landed on Damian’s imposing figure towering near the foot of the bed, she flinched slightly, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
"Who... who are you?" She asked, her voice a soft, raspy whisper.
Damian stayed silent for a second, catching the clear shyness and timidness in her posture. There was no arrogance in her eyes. No bratty demeanor. Just a terrifying, fragile innocence that didn’t belong in the dark world of their high-society families.
"Your father’s associate sent me," Damian said coldly. "Get dressed. We’re leaving."
"Wait... you’re Arthur’s eldest son, Damian right? I have heard a lot about you..."
"Get dressed, Anastasia." He simply said leaving no room for small talk and walked out of the room.
After getting her discharged, Damian drove her to a quiet, late-night fast-food diner on the edge of town. He ordered her a burger meal with fries and sat across from her at the vinyl booth.
Ana barely touched the food at first. She sat with her head down, her cheeks burning bright red, constantly stealing shy, timid glances at him through her long eyelashes whenever she thought he wasn’t looking. Slowly, ravenously, she began to eat, finishing every last bite.
Damian drove her back to the massive Vance estate in total silence. He pulled his beat-up car to a stop just short of the iron security gates, idling the engine.
"We’re here," Damian said, staring straight ahead at the road. "Get off."
Ana unbuckled her seatbelt, but she didn’t open the car door.
Damian turned his head to glare at her, wondering why she was stalling. But before he could speak, Ana suddenly leaned across the console.
Her soft, warm lips pressed gently against his cheek... a brief, sweet, completely innocent kiss that caught him entirely off guard.
"Thank you," she whispered softly, her dark eyes sparkling with a fleeting moment of genuine warmth. "Good night, Damian."
She slipped out of the car and hurried through the gates, leaving Damian sitting alone in the dark, his hand slowly rising to touch the lingering warmth on his cheek where her lips had touched.
________________________
Damian sat heavily on the edge of the master bed, his broad shoulders tense as the dark memory dissolved back into the quiet room.
He slowly turned his head. Across the dim bedroom, Ana was curled up tightly on the plush velvet sofa, her bandaged hand tucked close to her chest. She looked just as small, just as fragile, and just as utterly broken as she had in that hospital room eight years ago.
His obsidian eyes locked onto her sleeping form, his jaw clenching as a dark, dangerous possessiveness surged through his veins.
Pulling his phone from his tailored trousers, he walked quietly toward the glass windows overlooking the city skyline. He dialed a private number, raising the phone to his ear.
"Sir?" His assistant answered instantly on the second ring.
"I want a complete, detailed log of every movement, call, and financial transaction made by Vivian and her father over the last seventy-two hours," Damian ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal, whisper-thin growl. "By morning."
"Understood, Mr. Sterling."
Damian ended the call, his eyes reflecting the dark city lights as he slid the phone back into his pocket. He turned back toward the sofa, looking down at his sleeping captive.
Nobody touched what belonged to him. Nobody.
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