Chapter 10 What has Damiete done

Damiete sat behind his desk, the city skyline shone through the window of his office, but his eyes were somewhere else. He had his phone in his hand, scrolling through the pictures that the magazine had released. Hazel-his wife by contract-was already making so many fans online. They looked perfect together: his sharp suit and seductive look beside her effortless beauty and charming smile.

All the comments, he saw them and how she had replied to them.

But it wasn't the photos that was holding him. It was her.

Last night's episode was still fresh in his mind. The way she had leaned into him, her lips parting as his mouth claimed hers, the way her body shook-it had been electrifying. He had been moments away from having her completely, but then... she stopped.

Hazel's hand had pressed firmly against his chest. And then she had whispered those words: I can't.

Damiete dragged a hand over his face and exhaled harshly. She was driving him insane.

The sharp knock on his door pulled him from back from his thoughts.

"Come in," he said.

His assistant hurried inside, tablet in hand, her expression tense. "Sir, urgent news. VerroTech just launched a product this morning. It's nearly identical to the one we've been developing."

Damiete's gaze hardened instantly. "What do you mean by identical?"

"They beat us to the market. It's already trending-investors are talking about it."

His chair moved back as he stood. "Call the board for an emergency meeting, Now!"

The conference room was filled with voices, executives tossing papers onto the table, graphs flashing across the screen, each report worse than the last.

"This is corporate theft!" one director said sharply. "We need to file a lawsuit immediately. If we don't act, our product launch is going to be dead before it even begins."

Another added, frustration spread all over his face. "We've reached out to several law firms already. No one wants to take the case."

Damiete's jaw tensed. "Are you telling me we're defenseless?"

A pause. Then, carefully, one of the executives answered, "Not defenseless. There is one option which you won't like, it's Vanessa."

The name landed like a blade to Damiete's chest. He stiffened. Her.

Vanessa-his ex. The woman who once knew him better than anyone, the one who had cut him the deepest. Sharp, ambitious, ruthless. Exactly the kind of lawyer who could take on VerroTech... and exactly the last person he wanted near his life again.

"Absolutely not," Damiete said coldly. "I'd rather lose the case than work with her."

The older director leaned forward. "With respect, Mr. Torres, refusing her could cost us everything. She's bold enough to fight this-and she has the courtroom presence to win. You don't have to like her, but you need her."

Damiete's younger brother, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Unless you want to ruin the company, Vanessa is the only one willing to take this fight."

The room fell quiet. Damiete's fingers tapped against the table, his mind racing. He didn't like the idea, but he couldn't ignore the truth. Vanessa was the weapon they needed.

His chest tightened. Between Hazel's silent rejection and Vanessa's sudden reappearance in his business, Damiete felt as though he was losing control of the very things he thought he owned.

At home, Hazel was in her own world. The kitchen smelled nice, and her hands moved gracefully as she stirred the pot on the stove. Cooking made her happy, but what truly lit her face up was the work waiting on the dining table-rolls of fabric, sketches, and pencils scattered across the surface.

She had just put the food in a plate when she sat back down, pencil in hand, drawing lines and curves on fresh paper. Her fashion sketches bloomed into elegant patterns.

This was her safe place. Not the grand mansion she lived in, not the charade she played with Damiete in public, but the quiet, creative moments that reminded her she was more than just someone's wife.

And yet, last night was still in her mind . She closed her eyes briefly, the memory washing over her-the heat of Damiete's body, the hunger in his kiss, the way he had made her feel like she was a girl falling for the first time.

She had wanted to give in. God, she had. But something in her stopped her. Their marriage wasn't built on love, and she couldn't afford to lose herself so easily.

Her pencil scratched across the paper again. She shook her head, forcing the thoughts away.

The sudden knock on the door made her jump. Hazel set her pencil down and walked to answer it.

When the door swung open, the air left her lungs.

Standing there was a woman who looked like she had just stepped out of a runway show. Hazel's gaze dropped to the large suitcase at her side before snapping back up to her face.

Vanessa.

Hazel recognized her instantly. The infamous ex. Damiete's past.

"Hello, Hazel," Vanessa said smoothly, a smirk curving her lips. Her tone was casual, but her eyes gleamed with mischief. "You weren't expecting me, were you?"

"What... what are you doing here?" Hazel's voice trembled despite her attempt at firmness.

Vanessa shifted her weight, lifting her chin with the same arrogance that had made her a force in courtrooms. She gestured toward the suitcase.

"I'm moving in."

What in the world had Damiete done?