Chapter 300
Damien
I walk in, already exhausted.
I delayed as much as I could meetings, phone calls, a sudden "crisis" at the office—because I hate these gatherings. The golf course, the country club elites, the endless performative camaraderie. My father thrives here. I merely survive.
The moment we arrive, I let go of Vivienne's hand. The excuse is professionalism—mayor must network, can't be tied to his fiancée's side all evening. But the truth is simpler. Her hand feels wrong in mine.
I walk the course, shaking hands, smiling nods, playing the role. The afternoon sun is warm, the grass impossibly green, the conversation insufferably dull.
Then—
A flash of blonde hair.
My heart stops.
Elliot.
He's working. Catering staff, by the look of his uniform. Carrying a tray, moving through the crowd with that quiet grace that first caught my attention years ago.
