Billionaire's Baby

"Damien, you must always remember who you are!" his mother wheezed before she fell back against her pillows, the words interrupted by her severe cough filling the room.

"I will, Mom. I promise. You have to take your medicine now," Damien begged the frail woman.

"I'm dying, Damien. Those little pills can't help me any longer," she whispered, causing fear to cut through the heart of the thirteen year old boy.

"We gotta go to the hospital, Mom. Please," Damien begged.

"Not this time, son. Not this time. I'm tired, Damien. I just need rest. You have to promise me that you'll never forget who you are. They took everything from us. Everything! They killed your father, just as surely as if they would've walked up and stabbed him in the heart. If they wouldn't have stolen all he'd worked so hard for his entire life, he wouldn't have died the way he did. He wouldn't have left us all alone and broken, without a penny to our name."

"I know, Mom. I'll make them pay. I promise you, I will..." Damien trailed off, reaching deep inside for the courage to keep him from crying.

"Don't you shed tears, boy! You better not disgrace me in my dyin' moments. Do you hear me?" his mother scolded.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry, Mom," Damien said, willing to say anything to make that censure leave her eyes.

He hated to see her in so much pain, knowing there was nothing he could do. She was mean, always verbally and physically abusive..., but she was his mom. She had the right to be mean because she'd had to endure a hard life, especially because of having him. He knew he was nothing but a burden to her, which was why he had to fulfill his promise.

"I'm going to sleep now, Damien. If I don't wake up this time, you never forget why I'm dyin' like this. You never forget it's those people, those rotten bastards who left us like this. If they wouldn't have taken everything, I'd be all better. I coulda afforded the medicine I needed to stay alive. You coulda went to a good school. You get them, Damien. You get them real good."

His mother's voice faded as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Fifteen minutes later her breathing stopped.

Damien sat by her bed for another hour before finally standing up and walking from the room. One lone tear slipped from his dark green eyes. He didn't turn back around and look at her lifeless body - there was no reason to. He didn't even stop to gather any possessions from their meager apartment.

There was nothing worth taking. He'd slept on the floor from the time he was a baby. His clothes were tattered and the cupboards desolate. He'd never received a gift for any reason. There was literally nothing in the home to take.

It was their fault – all of it. His mom could've been a good mother, if only they hadn't ruined her. Some people were just greedy, out to get their hands on everything. Well, they'd pay. They'd pay if it was the last thing he did.

He walked from the house – vowing never to go back to such conditions again, though he'd never forget how much he'd suffered. He'd seek revenge on those who'd killed his mother, those who were supposed to be his family. He didn't care how long it took...

Four Years later

Damien strutted through the school yard, looking for a fight. None of the boys would look him in the face. They were used to the set of his shoulders, the gleam in his eyes, almost begging for a challenge. He was just waiting for one of them to look at him wrong, or say the simplest remark to set him off – giving him an excuse to thoroughly waste them.

They'd lose – they were well aware of the speed with which Damien threw a punch, after witnessing plenty of his brawls in the past. His childhood had made him rage internally, and it was always at a low simmer, ready to ignite. The only reason he stayed in school was because he promised his mother. He had to finish school, had to succeed so he could seek revenge on those who'd killed both his parents.

"Shut–up, Skank!"

Damien turned to find a petite girl being pushed to the ground by a group of girls. Normally, he wouldn't get involved. He didn't hit girls, no matter how much fury reigned inside him. He turned to walk away as one of the gang grabbed the girl on the ground by her hair and yanked her head back, spitting in her face.

The small girl in clothing as tattered as his own was sobbing as another one of the older girls slapped her. Where in the hell were the teachers? He looked around, not seeing anyone doing anything to stop the bullying.

A third teenager in the group stepped forward and kicked the girl in her ribs and he'd seen enough. He strode over to them.

"You want to try that crap on me?" he asked, his voice thundering across the yard.

"Go away, white trash," one of the snobby girls snapped as she loosened her grasp to glare at him.

He smiled at her, a smile full of evil delight. Let her think he was crazy. She could go running home to mommy, sobbing about the guy who nearly took her life.

"Let's get out of her Stacy," one of the other girls said, nervously looking back and forth between him and her friend.

"I'd listen to your friend, Stacy," he paused, "before something really bad happens," he threatened. There was no mistaking the menace in his voice as he stepped closer to the main tormentor.

She stumbled backward, finally realizing her danger. Her glare disappeared, anger transforming into an expression of fear.

"I'm telling Mr. Sorenson," she threatened as she took another step back.

"Go ahead. As a matter-of-fact, I think I'll take this girl to his office now," Damien told her.

The pack of intimidators scampered off, he was sure to beat him to the principle. He didn't care what they had to say. It was obvious the girl on the ground had been the victim.

"Thank you," she wheezed as he bent down to see how badly she was hurt.

"I'm going to lift you up. You need to see the nurse," he said as he gently stretched his hand out and wiped the other girls disgusting spittle from her face. Her entire body was shaking.

"I'm fine," she told him on a trembling voice as she tried to sit up.

"Yeah, real fine," he said with sarcasm, but there was no heat behind his words. He felt nothing but sympathy for the young girl.

He carefully slid his hands beneath her legs and back and lifted her into his arms, barely able to detect her undernourished body against his own.

"What's your name?" she asked as she rested her head against his chest. He felt his cold heart heat up at the sound of her trusting voice.

"Damien."

"I'm Trinity. Thanks for saving me," she said before she passed out in his arms. He picked up his speed and rushed to the nurse's station, and she quickly called the ambulance.

From that day on, he and Trinity became inseparable. She was his best friend, his confidant, his family – his sister. She was the only person in the entire world keeping the demons at bay – making him remember to love instead of only hate.

She was also the only woman he trusted, even as the years passed. He used women, used them to satisfy his needs, but felt no guilt, as the type of women he dated were those who used him just as much, used his name, his power, and whatever it was they thought they could get from him.

Damien still never forgot where he came from – never forgot the promise he made to his mother. There were weeks, months, years even when it was pushed to the back of his mind. Only because of Trinity, because of his love for his friend. Revenge would happen, though – at any cost.

Fifteen Years Later

Sierra was exhausted.

Deeply, utterly, fall-on-her-face exhausted.

She also had a feeling of unmitigated accomplishment. The wedding was over. With zero regret, she tossed the slightly wilted Calla Lilies into the nearest garbage can, and then found a chair to rest in for a few minutes.

It had been a circus, but it was over. Her incredibly babied, and very spoiled little sister was married to the man of her dreams. She loved her sister, though she didn't know why, really. For the past twenty-three years, her father had dotted on Sandy, spoiled her, given her everything.

He hadn't been so kind to Sierra. She'd never forget when she was six years old, her sister only four. Their mother had died in an automobile crash. From that moment on, her life had been hell.

Her father told her almost daily that her mother was a cheating whore and that Sierra most likely wasn't even his kid. He'd also told her, he owned her and would make her pay for her mother's transgressions. The beatings had begun, only escalating through the years.

He was a smart man, respected in the business community. She feared him, knowing he could make her life so much worse than it was. She'd learned at a young age if she just suffered silently through the pain, he'd stop much faster. If she shouted out, he seemed to get an evil glee from it, and would go on and on.

She ran away once. A shiver passed through her body remembering the pain she'd gone through when he'd found her. She'd been bruised from head to toe, unable to leave her bed for two weeks. Her father had kept her at a cottage on the outskirts of town so the servants wouldn't get suspicious.

Though a couple had been brave enough not only to suspect, but ask her if she was okay, she learned quickly never to say anything. The sympathetic employees quickly disappeared. Soon, no one would help her, or look out for her. She learned silent suffering was the key to survival.

Sierra looked around the reception as she pulled herself out of her depressing memories. The event was still going strong, causing her to sigh. Her sister had departed a while ago, amid a sea of birdseed, and the crowd calling out advice. The moment the Limo pulled away, Sierra's fake smile had vanished.

Friends, from near and far, were taking advantage of the open bar, free food, and euphoria at being at the exclusive country club. It was all a joke. None of them cared one iota about Sandy. Sierra figured it didn't matter as her little sister didn't care about anyone but herself, anyway.

The one positive note to the entire charade was that at least Sierra wouldn't have to watch as Sandy acted like a brat, threw a fit, and then got her way. She'd learned quickly that if Sierra didn't do what she wanted, all she had to do was complain to her father, and he'd make Sierra into Sandy's servant.

Sandy was Mason's problem now, and Sierra hoped her father would let her leave now that Sandy had moved out. There was no reason to keep her locked up in his enormous mansion.

Sierra felt the slightest pang to her heart as Mason's name popped into her head. She slowly got to her feet, making her way up to her room. Thank goodness she was staying there that night. She didn't have the energy to drive home.

As she climbed in the elevator, her heart pounded while thinking about Mason. She thought she'd been in love with him, deeply, over-the-moon in love. She may have been, but it had obviously been one sided because the moment Sandy decided she wanted him, he'd followed her sister like the willing puppy he'd turned out to be.

His pathetic apology and explanation of not being able to control his heart hadn't helped Sierra's pride – not one little bit.

The wedding had taken place in only four months, and their father had seemed to think there was nothing amiss with Sandy suddenly marrying Sierra's boyfriend. When Sierra had made the slightest comment about it being wrong, her father had begun his lecture of how Sierra needed to keep her jealousy of her perfect sister to herself.

Sierra hadn't dared argue any further. If she honestly thought about it, she'd only wanted to be with Mason to get away from her father, anyway. Surprisingly, her dad had approved of her relationship with his faithful employee.

Sandy had demanded a perfect wedding with her flawless groom, and that's what she'd gotten – a glamorous event, attended by Hollywood actors, musicians, and the elite of the elite. People wanted to attend the wedding of one of the wealthiest men in the United States. They may be able to get something from him.

"It doesn't matter," Sierra said out loud, trying to convince herself. She needed to let the entire thing go. She was lucky to have found out what a creep Mason was so early in their relationship. It could've been worse. She could've married him, and then been humiliated when he left her for her sister.

Standing as her sister's maid of honor and holding her ridiculously gaudy bouquet of flowers while Mason swept Sandy into his arms, kissing her in front of everyone couldn't be humiliation enough for Sierra. Sandy also had to toss her bouquet straight into Sierra's hands during the reception.

Sierra had smiled as if she was thrilled, but she hadn't missed the snickers as people behind her made comments about her never using the flowers since she couldn't keep a man long enough to get him to walk her down the aisle. When she heard the woman add that at least she didn't have any other sister's to steal her man, Sierra was done.

Mason worked for her father, and marrying either Sierra or Sandy pretty much sealed the deal of him becoming the corporation's next CEO. He'd moved his way toward the top, and when he'd hit the mother-load by marrying the owner's daughter, he got it all. He would've settled for Sierra, but why settle when he could have Sandy, everyone's choice of the better of the two siblings.

Sierra finally made it to her room and swiped the key card across the reader, grateful when it registered on the first try. She stepped inside and tightly closed the door behind her. All she wanted was freedom, and maybe, just maybe, that's what she'd finally get. Besides, she didn't want to get married. Why place herself in a position where a man had control of her again. If she ever escaped her nightmare, she vowed to stay single the rest of her life.

She glanced at the clock, noting that it was just past midnight. Sandy and Mason were well on their way to Europe by now. Sierra felt more of a pang over her sister getting to visit one of the country's she'd always wanted to go to, than over the loss of Mason.

With a sigh, Sierra unzipped the uncomfortable dress, letting it fall to the ground in a sea of satin. She kicked it away from her, knowing she wouldn't take it from the hotel. She had no desire to wear it again. Let one of the maids find it. They'd appreciate the expensive dress more than she ever would.

Sierra didn't need any more reminders of her sister's wedding. She'd have plenty of daily reminders as she watched her happily married sister in the arms of her ex-boyfriend.

She took out the hundreds of pins from her up-do, a feeling of bliss overcoming her as the tight curtain of hair fell loosely around her shoulders. Her head ached, along with the soles of her feet.

She jumped into the shower and massaged her scalp, dreading the next day. Her father wanted to speak to her. She had no clue what it was about, but he'd been so formal, it couldn't be good.

Sierra managed to make her way back into the bedroom of her roomy suite, where she collapsed face-first onto the comfortable bed, and vowed not to get up until her body woke her. She knew the wrath of her father wasn't worth an extra hour or two of rest, but she just couldn't convince her physically and emotionally exhausted body of that.

One week earlier

Damien set the papers down on his desk and sat back. He was perplexed – intrigued but perplexed.

When he'd received the phone call yesterday, he'd thought it was a joke. A father couldn't truly be serious – offering his child in exchange for money. Though, as Damien went through the files on Sierra Monroe, he was beginning to realize that her father, Douglas was more than serious.

The man was willing to trade his daughter for cash. Normally, Damien wouldn't give the scum of a man the time of day. His time was too valuable to waste, and he didn't make poor business decisions.

However, he was curious – a tremendously bad thing. What was in it for Sierra? Was she going along with her father? How far was she willing to go?

He looked at her photograph, picking it up from his desk for at least the twentieth time. She was attractive – more than attractive, for that matter.

Her long dark hair was pinned back in the photo, and her dark brown, almost black eyes, were solemn as if she had secrets she was trying to hide from the world.

Her nose had the slightest bend to it as if it was broken at one time, but had healed nicely, giving her face an almost softer look. Her beauty was rounded off by her high cheekbones, and the oval shape to her face.

He hadn't been intrigued in a long time over a woman, but Sierra Monroe had his undivided attention.

He'd placed a post a week ago, needing a new public relations representative. It was placed in extremely select listings as he didn't want, nor need, the general public to apply. He wanted only the best.

The call from Douglas Monroe hadn't been the call he'd been expecting. With irritation, he lifted his phone and dialed the man's direct line.

"Douglas Monroe."

"This is Damien Whitfield. I've thought about your offer, and I've decided to accept." Damien felt no need to offer anything else.

"That's great, Damien. Why don't you come by my home tomorrow and we can sign the papers," Douglas replied, excitement rushing over the line.

Damien was even more disgusted.

"It's Mr. Whitfield, and I have conditions," Damien warned, to which there was a long pause on the other end of the line.

"What would those be?" the man finally asked, not responding to the scolding of the man being too familiar with his name.

"Is your daughter aware of our...deal?"

"I've told her that it's time she gets a job. She's had it too easy for too long. It's time she stops living off of me and learns how to make it in the real world," Douglas said, evading the question.

She was a spoiled heiress, then. Damien should just let it go and move on, but for some reason he couldn't. Well, he had a couple reasons. One of which was the people Sierra knew, the other, well, the other he still hadn't figured out.

"Is she going to give me trouble?"

"Not at all, Mr. Whitfield. My daughter has been taught to behave," Douglas said with an evil laugh.

A shudder rippled down Damien's spine. He wasn't even in the room with Douglas, but the man oozed filth. People like him would eventually fail. That's why Damien was confident in his plans to finally keep his promise to his mother.

His supposed family was just like Douglas Monroe, full of greed and not afraid to walk on people to get what they wanted. They'd fail as well.

"Fine, I'll meet you at your place, but not until next week. My attorney will have the paperwork ready." Damien hung up the phone without saying anything further.

The less he talked to the slime ball, the more he'd be able to stomach making a deal with the devil.

Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he picked up the second stack of paperwork on his desk, this time a genuine smile popping out on his face. It was time. Finally, he had what he needed to start his takeover of the men who'd killed his parents.

It was long past time.

Damien's lips turned up in what would look like a smile to the rest of the world. It may have even been a smile – or at least as much of one as he was capable of giving. He watched Sierra wearily stumble away.

Since making the deal with her father, he'd studied up on her, making sure he wanted to hire the spoiled heiress. The more he learned, the more intrigued he became. He was suddenly impatient to close the deal.

He thought about going after her, but he wasn't an impulsive man, or at least with most people he wasn't. His lips softened as he thought of his one and only friend, Trinity. His only impulsive act, ever, had been to offer to marry her.

He would've, too, had she said yes. Luckily, Drew, the baby's father, had come back into her life, and not only wanted to do the right thing, but Drew was deeply in love with Trinity.

Damien didn't believe in happily-ever-after love, but it was hard to deny that Trinity and Drew were, indeed, in love. The way they looked at each other was almost disturbing.

He shook off thoughts of Trinity. He couldn't carry out his plans if he thought of his best friend. She'd kill him if she knew what he was up to. He'd never spoken of his past with anyone, not even Trinity. He hardened his resolve. He'd made a promise to his mother – a promise he intended to keep. He'd made that vow before Trinity found him so many years earlier, before she rescued him from the dark bitterness of his life.

Damien's eyes snapped back to Sierra as she walked away from the reception. She was just another piece of the puzzle to the grand design of his life, to the purpose he'd practically been made for. He could succeed without her, but why should he. He liked what he saw, and with such an appealing package up for grabs, he figured, why not?

She had a natural grace and beauty about her that could easily reel a man in. He wasn't worried about getting too attached. He wasn't interested in love. He'd been there, done that. He should've just listened to his mother, and never tried any road but the one that led to his parent's vindication.

His so-called family would pay. They'd pay big.

Sierra was almost meaningless – almost. She just happened to have a best friend who was a part of the family he was close to taking over. With her father so easily trading his daughter, who was he to refuse?

The meeting with her father hadn't been pleasant. The man was the lowest kind of scum, but Damien figured he was doing Sierra a favor getting her out of there, not that she seemed to be in a hurry, from everything he'd learned so far.

Damien's mind drifted as he thought about his conversation with Douglas Monroe:

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Whitfield?" Douglas said, obviously pleased at having Damien in his office. The man was practically salivating as he waited for Damien to sign on the dotted line.

Damien was silent as he towered over the guy. He wasn't there to make friends with Douglas. He was there for a business transaction. Damien had done his research. He knew Douglas was in deep enough trouble that he needed the deal they were making.

Mr. Monroe still had the rest of the world fooled, planning a huge, over-the-top wedding for his daughter, living large in his twenty-thousand square foot mansion, driving his over-priced vehicles - but Damien knew Douglas was close to bankrupt. He'd made poor business choices, and in-turn, had lost billions of dollars.

The man was practically a slithering idiot at the opportunity to do business with Damien's corporation.

The longer Damien was silent, the more nervous Douglas became. Damien could practically taste the man's fear. He had to remind himself that his battle wasn't with Douglas Monroe. He didn't care if the man failed or succeeded in life, though Damien had a feeling Douglas would soon be losing everything.

With self-taught control, Damien pulled himself together. He wasn't there to make Douglas sweat. Damien was successful in what he did because of how well he read people. He saw weakness, and he immediately wanted to go for the jugular – close the deal. And he certainly saw weakness in Douglas.

Damien owned thousands of properties throughout the world, making only the finest of wines. He knew how to choose the land, pick the vines and staff the property to make wine in which royalty was on stand-by for.

Damien seemed to have the Midas touch, because every venture he invested in, every dollar he made, ended up tripling. He couldn't seem to lose when it came to financials, but it was never enough. None of it was.

Only retribution could soothe his troubled soul.

"To be honest, Douglas," he stressed the name, letting the man know that even though Douglas couldn't address Damien informally, Damien certainly would take the opportunity to do so to Douglas. It was a power play, letting his opponent know he was the weaker man. "I wasn't going to take you up on your offer, but then I did some research... It made me change my mind. I'm intrigued by why you'd basically sell your child."

Damien left the words as a statement, seeing if Douglas would fill in the blanks.

"You placed an ad. I just happen to have a solution. I'm looking for investors, so it seemed a mutually benefiting deal. I'm a very private man, though, and the terms of our agreement are to stay between us," Douglas said, showing a bit of the backbone that had made him billions of dollars.

"I'm private myself, Douglas."

Douglas gazed at him for a few silent moments. Damien could see the man was trying to decide if Damien was for real or not. Though Damien's passion was his vineyards, he was well-known throughout the world as a smart investor. It was common knowledge that he never invested in a losing company.

Damien knew he'd most likely lose every dime of money he sunk into Monroe enterprises but it didn't matter. This wasn't about making money, it was about payback, and Damien didn't care if he lost millions. It was inconsequential to him.

"Fine. It looks like we're both agreeable. Are you going to accept the offer?" Douglas finally asked, sitting back, trying to portray a man with confidence, who was slightly bored. He wasn't pulling it off.

"I'm willing to invest ten million into your project." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Only if your daughter is... cooperative."

Douglas waited for more. Damien said nothing else.

"How cooperative?" Douglas finally asked, his brow beading with sweat as he nervously waited for Damien's reply. It was obvious the man didn't think his daughter was worth ten million dollars. In reality, he was most likely right. The only woman Damien could think of worth that kind of money was already taken.

"Do you really want to know?" Damien mocked.

Damien was still standing, towering his six-foot-plus frame over the small man. He bent down, his knuckles grazing the desk. He knew intimidation was his best tactical maneuver.

"I can't make any guarantees about her attitude, but I'll make sure she works hard," Douglas said, perspiration starting to drip from his brow.

"I wouldn't be too concerned about her attitude. From everything I've learned about her, she seems to be quite...accommodating," Damien mocked.

He watched as Douglas blanched, but didn't back down. The man was truly selling his daughter, even with Damien leaving the impression that he wanted her for nothing more than a slave.

He wanted to turn and walk from the room, dismiss the entire deal, but the more he sunk into this twisted family, the more he desired to know about Sierra Monroe. He'd have his answers soon enough.

Damien's cold eyes showed none of the emotions raging through him as he pulled the pen from his breast pocket. He signed the paper before looking into the greedy eyes of his newest investee. It was the first time he'd signed a deal that made his stomach turn.