Chapter 3 DAMIEN - THE RESPONSIBLE TWIN

Damien Blackwood stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of his corner office on the forty-seventh floor, watching the city pulse below. Manhattan stretched out in every direction-steel and glass monuments to ambition, just like the building he stood in.

Just like him.

At thirty-four, he'd spent his entire adult life preparing for this moment. For the day when Blackwood Enterprises would pass from his father's hands to his. Every decision, every relationship, every sacrifice had been made with that singular goal in mind.

Be worthy. Be ready. Be the one.

His assistant's voice came through the intercom. "Mr. Blackwood, your two o'clock is here."

"Send them in."

Damien turned from the window, smoothing his Tom Ford suit jacket-charcoal gray, perfectly tailored, not a thread out of place. His office was a study in controlled elegance: mahogany desk, leather chairs, abstract art on the walls that cost more than most people's houses. Everything carefully chosen. Everything intentional.

Just like his life.

The meeting was routine-discussing acquisition terms for a tech startup. Damien navigated it with practiced ease, his mind tracking numbers and projections while maintaining the personable demeanor that made people trust him. By two forty-five, contracts were signed and hands were shaken.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Blackwood," the CEO said.

"The pleasure's mine," Damien replied with a measured smile. "Welcome to the Blackwood family."

As soon as they left, Damien returned to his desk and opened his laptop. Three hundred unread emails. Fourteen pending contracts needing review. Seven conference calls scheduled for tomorrow. He thrived in this world of structure and expectations.

His father had groomed him for it since birth.

"Damien, you're the eldest," Richard had told him countless times growing up. "Four minutes matters. You came first. You'll lead first. That's how it works."

And Damien had believed it. Had built his entire identity around it.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in."

Adrian entered, and for a moment-as always-it was like looking in a mirror. Same height, same build, same sharp features and steel-gray eyes. Identical in every physical way.

But Adrian moved differently. Where Damien was contained and precise, Adrian had an ease about him, a looseness in his shoulders that Damien had never quite managed.

"Got a minute?" Adrian asked, dropping into one of the leather chairs across from Damien's desk without waiting for an answer.

"Always." Damien closed his laptop. "What's up?"

"Just finished the presentation for the innovation division's Q4 projections. Wanted to run them by you before the board meeting next week."

This was their dynamic. Had been since childhood. Damien handled operations and strategy. Adrian handled innovation and creative ventures. Two halves of the same whole, their father liked to say.

Brothers. Twins. Best friends.

They'd shared everything since the moment they were born four minutes apart-toys, rooms, clothes, friends, secrets. There was no version of Damien's life that didn't include Adrian in it.

"Send them over," Damien said. "I'll review tonight."

Adrian nodded, but didn't move to leave. "You heard from Mom today?"

"Yeah. Dad's being released from the hospital tomorrow."

"Good. That's good." Adrian was quiet for a moment. "You think he's really okay? I mean, a heart attack at sixty-seven..."

"The doctors cleared him. Said with rest and lifestyle changes, he'll be fine."

"You believe that?"

Damien met his brother's eyes. "I have to."

Adrian studied him. "You're worried about the company. About what happens if-"

"Don't." Damien's voice was sharp. "Don't finish that sentence."

"Damien-"

"He'll be fine. We'll all be fine." Damien stood, needing to move, to do something. "Besides, even if something happened, the succession plan is clear. The company would continue."

"Would it?" Adrian asked quietly. "Or would it tear itself apart trying to figure out who's in charge?"

The question hung between them.

Damien had thought about it, of course. Had lain awake nights wondering if his father would choose him or Adrian. If four minutes of birth order really meant anything when it came to running a billion-dollar empire.

But he'd never said it out loud.

"Let's not borrow trouble," Damien said finally. "Dad's going to be fine. And we'll figure out the rest when we need to."

Adrian nodded slowly, standing. "Right. Yeah. You're probably right." He headed for the door, then paused. "Damien?"

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens-with Dad, with the company-we're good, right? You and me?"

Something in Adrian's tone made Damien look at him more closely. "Of course. Why wouldn't we be?"

"No reason. Just... making sure." Adrian smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "See you tomorrow for the hospital pickup?"

"I'll be there."

After Adrian left, Damien stood alone in his pristine office, feeling unsettled in a way he couldn't name.

His phone buzzed with a text from his assistant: *Don't forget-charity auction invitation needs RSVP by end of day.*

Damien had almost forgotten. Some art fundraiser his father's company sponsored every year. Normally he'd send a generous check and skip the actual event-he had no patience for standing around making small talk while people bid obscene amounts on paintings.

But this year felt different. His father's heart attack had shaken something loose in him. The realization that time wasn't infinite. That life was more than spreadsheets and board meetings.

Maybe he needed to do something different. Be someone different. Even for one night.

He pulled up the invitation on his computer. *The Annual Arts Education Charity Gala. Black tie. Cocktails at seven, auction at eight.*

This Friday. Three days away.

His calendar showed back-to-back meetings until six-thirty, but he could make it work. Show his face, bid on something, network with donors. It would be good for the company. Good for his profile.

That was the reason. The logical, strategic reason.

Not the small voice in his head that whispered he was thirty-four years old and his life consisted of nothing but work. That he'd sacrificed every personal relationship, every friendship, every romantic possibility for the company. That he couldn't remember the last time he'd done something just because he wanted to.

Not because it was expected. Not because it was strategic. Just because.

Damien opened his email and typed a quick response to his assistant: *RSVP yes for the charity auction. One guest-myself only.*

He hit send before he could overthink it.

Three days. He would attend the gala, show his face, maybe even enjoy himself for a few hours. Then Monday would come and life would return to normal-meetings and contracts and grooming himself to take over everything his father had built.

This was just one night. One small deviation from the rigid structure of his carefully planned life.

What harm could come from that?

His phone buzzed again-this time a call from Adrian.

"Hey," Damien answered. "Forget something?"

"No, I just-" Adrian paused. "I'm proud of you, you know. The way you handle everything. The company, Dad's expectations, all of it. I know it's not easy being the 'responsible one' all the time."

Damien felt something tighten in his chest. "Thanks. That means a lot."

"We're a team, right? Always have been."

"Always will be," Damien confirmed.

After they hung up, Damien looked at the charity gala invitation still open on his screen.

*One night*, he thought. *Just one night to be someone other than Richard Blackwood's dutiful heir.*

He had no idea that accepting that invitation would destroy everything he thought he knew about himself, his brother, and what it meant to be worthy of a legacy.

Friday couldn't come soon enough.

And it would come far too soon.