"Damian," Andy said again through the still-open line. "She's going up to the second floor. Probably heading to a consultation room."
Damian closed his eyes briefly, then returned to his phone. The photos and information he needed had already been gathered. His hands moved without hesitation, like he was compiling a dossier on the one woman he couldn't hold but couldn't let go of either.
He wasn't God. But perhaps even God would tremble at how deeply Damian wanted Nayla. With the wrong kind of feeling, the kind that suffocated while it claimed.
"Make sure there are no obstacles in her divorce process. Accelerate it if you can," Damian said flatly.
"Should I contact her lawyer?"
"Yes." Damian's gaze landed on the now-empty chair where Nayla had been sitting. "But don't use my name. No one at that office should know you work for me. Not even Hartono."
"Understood. And next steps?"
"You'll take the lead on investigating Nathan's affairs. Deliver all the evidence to Hartono. Infidelity will speed up the divorce."
"Got it."
"I want a full report. Every woman Nathan's ever been with. Dates. Locations. If possible, photos or recordings. He's cunning. I won't give him any room to fight back."
"I'll start today. Anything else?"
"Cover all of Nayla's expenses from an untraceable account. Lawyer fees, admin costs, trial expenses if necessary. But make it seem like everything came from her. I don't want her to feel like she's being helped. I just want her … free."
A pause. Damian closed his eyes, gripping his phone tighter.
"One more time, Andy. No one can know. Especially Nayla. If she finds out this is from me, I'll consider the mission failed."
"Understood."
Damian gave a slight nod, though no one could see him. "I want her to win this case. As soon as possible."
The call ended.
Silence settled like dust that couldn't be wiped away. Damian sat again, this time leaning forward. His elbows rested on his knees. Bloodied fingers still clutching his phone.
Time passed slowly. Too slowly for a man like Damian Bellucci, who was used to staying five steps ahead of everything.
He wasn't used to waiting. He never waited.
But now, he was waiting for news from the one thing he couldn't fully control.
The phone screen remained dark. His heartbeat drummed slow, then fast. Erratic. And when the incoming call finally lit the screen, he answered before the first ring ended.
"How?"
"She just left the building." Andy's voice was calm as always.
Damian stood slowly. "And?"
Andy hesitated for a moment. "She looked … wrecked."
Damian closed his eyes. His jaw tightened. "Find out how the meeting went."
"Understood."
"Send me updates on Nayla. Photos, video, everything." Damian's breath was heavy. "How she walks. What car picked her up. Andv… her face."
"Got it."
Damian ended the call. His body sank back into the chair. Trapped inside himself, consumed by the cold room he had built. Each surveillance device now exposed him with a vulnerability he'd never possessed before.
Then came the notification. Photos and video.
His hands trembled as he opened them.
Nayla.
In a taxi.
Her head leaned against the window. Her hair no longer tied. Black strands cascading with soft curls still neat. But her eyes… her eyes were wounded. And her cheeks were wet. Soaked.
She… was crying.
Damian didn't move. The world around him faded.
His phone, clutched so tightly, reopened the wounds on his hands. Blood dripped onto his pants. He didn't care. He only stared at the screen. Her face, her tears, and the brutal truth that the woman was in pain, and he couldn't stop her from crying.
He could destroy Nathan. He could buy the court. Damian had nearly every power and advantage.
But it all crumbled before the image now glowing on his screen.
He should've stopped those tears. But deep down, he knew that he had helped cause them. The bitterness etched into Nayla's eyes wasn't just Nathan's doing.
Part of that sorrow came from him, too.
Damian stood slowly, walking toward the glass doors that reflected his silhouette. He stared at the reflection in the glass. The man staring back no longer looked like the powerful figure the world knew. His eyes were empty. Not from absence, but because they were too full. Overflowing with one name that refused to leave his mind.
If Nayla cried because of another man, he would destroy him without hesitation.
But if Nayla cried because of him…
Damian lowered his head, unable to finish the thought. He couldn't.
Because this time, there was nothing to destroy. Except himself.
***
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