Damien stepped into the bathroom and took a slow look around. It was the kind of place that looked and was expensive—everything from the sink handles to the shower frame was inlaid with gold.
Luxurious, a bit over the top, but still surprisingly functional.
Nothing was missing; it had everything a person could possibly need. Even a mini bar which Original Damien enjoyed using a lot.
He let out a soft breath and headed for the shower.
As the warm water hit his skin, a small, almost forgotten feeling returned... being able to bathe on his own.
He hadn't realized how much he missed that simple freedom.
But the moment didn't stay gentle for long. His thoughts quickly turned dark.
Revenge.
Damien's memories—the real Damien's—had given him a broader view of the world.
Not everyone was cruel. Some people stood by you, even when they had no reason to.
Like Enzo and his daughter for example, they had no reason to feed him, but they did, even now they work for him as a way to pay him back for Aria's treatment.
He hadn't been wrong for trying to be a good human. He just put his faith in the wrong people.
Now, he'd do things differently.
He wouldn't stop being himself—but he would stop being naive. He would learn to tell the difference between those who are truly good and those who are bad.
And for those who betrayed him? Death would be too easy.
No, he wanted them to feel pain—deep, personal loss. He would take what they loved most… and leave them alive to watch it all crumble.
That would be justice.
He stared at himself in the mirror for a while taking in his new look.
His hair was still damp, jet black and a bit messy. His eyes were dark—so dark they almost looked black.
His skin was light, but not exactly white. You could tell, even without asking, that he wasn't fully white. A few generations ago he most definitely had a black ancestor.
He didn't mind it. It just was. Another piece of the puzzle that made him... him.
After completing his business, Damien stepped into his closet. Calling it a "closet" didn't really do it justice—it was massive.
Thankfully, the original Damien hadn't been the type to chase after flashy brands. He preferred quality and comfort when it came to clothes.
The kind of taste that screamed old money… which probably explained why people assumed he'd inherited his fortune.
Truth be told, the original Damien had done a good job maintaining the illusion, even with his well-known vanity.
Fully dressed, Damien made his way to the walk-in safe.
Yes, a literal walk-in safe.
He grabbed a bundle of cash from the shelf.
According to his memories, this wasn't even the main vault. The real treasure room was in the basement—massive, reinforced, and packed with gold.
The dark entity hadn't just given Damien transferred the money directly to him, instead it had transferred a billion in cash, crypto and assets. While the rest were in gold bars.
The majority had been quietly offloaded into the underground vault, far from prying eyes.
The smaller vault upstairs? Just a decoy.
Damien had even moved some of the gold up himself, sealing the basement entrance afterward.
Now it was time to start putting that wealth to work.
When he got down, Enzo stood by the front entrance, dressed in a sharp navy-blue suit that somehow made his towering frame look even more imposing.
He had that usual calm expression, but the subtle grin on his face said more than words ever could.
As Damien approached, Enzo reached into his pocket and pulled out a key fob.
"Morning, Damien," he said, holding it out.
Damien took it with a nod. "Thanks, Enzo. You look sharp today."
Enzo chuckled. "Gotta stay presentable, especially around the neighbors who can't stop watching this place." Enzo continued as he handed him a jacket, "Don't forget your jacket it is cold outside."
Damien gave a faint smile,as he grabbed it.
He gave Enzo a light pat on the shoulder before walking toward the elevator at the end of the hall.
The ride down was smooth and silent... just the low hum of the elevator and the soft whir of mechanisms at work.
As the doors slid open, the lights of the underground garage flicked on one by one, revealing what could only be described as a collector's dream.
Row after row of polished, rare, and jaw-droppingly expensive vehicles stretched out before him. Every category was covered—sleek sportscars, high-performance coupes, luxury sedans, even a couple of heavily customized armoured buses.
Off in one corner sat several expensive RVs and even a fully custom Marchi Mobile RV—something that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi film.
Damien remembered from the inherited memories that the original owner had it built on a whim and then never used it. Right beside it, because why not, were two military-grade tanks, casually parked like overgrown showpieces.
The only thing missing from the collection was a fighter jet.
Not because Damien couldn't afford it, but because the process of getting one approved took too long—and, according to his memory, he got bored and simply forgot to follow through.
But today, none of that mattered.
His eyes locked on the sleek Pagani Zonda sitting near the exit, already prepped and ready.
Black paint with hints of deep crimson shimmered under the garage lights. It looked like something that had been sculpted with perfection.
No need to search for it. The car had been pulled out and positioned just for him.
Damien approached, opened the door, and slid into the low leather seat with practiced ease.
He dropped the small bag on the passenger seat beside him, took a breath, then pressed the ignition.
The engine roared to life and a moment later, he eased out of the garage and drove off into the city.
Damien drove through the city for a while, weaving through traffic with no real destination at first.
He just wanted to clear his head. After a bit, he spotted a large electronics store and pulled into the parking lot, easing the Pagani Zonda into a space near the front.
He stepped out casually, locking the car with a click, and headed inside.
The store was big—bright lights, clean aisles, and shelves lined with every device you could think of.
He made his way to the laptop section, picked a solid one without overthinking it, then grabbed three smartphones, a handful of SIM cards, and other laptop accessories and paid in full, in cash.
As he browsed, he couldn't help but notice the CCTV cameras scattered across the ceiling.
He didn't like it... being recorded... but there wasn't much he could do about it. Another downside of his new reality: being young, handsome, and clearly loaded made it hard to go unnoticed.
People stared.
Some tried to be subtle, others didn't bother.
A few even whispered behind his back, probably wondering who he was or if he was famous.
At a point he got around to taking pictures and get the numbers of some of the ladies around.
Once he got his purchase he made his way out, he drove around for a bit before going back home.