That evening, Doctor Vance and Damien sat at a quiet bar, a half-empty bottle of scotch between them.
"Are you really going to go through with the engagement to Penelope?" Vance asked, his voice low.
Damien sighed, swirling the liquid in his glass. "I have to."
"Don't you think it's wrong to marry someone you have no feelings for?" Vance pressed.
"We'll get engaged, but as for marriage, who knows what might happen before that."
Vance narrowed his eyes. "You're not going to marry her, are you?"
"I'm doing this to make the old man happy," Damien said. "Even if I marry her, she'll only have the title of Mrs. Sterling, nothing else."
"What about Sarah?" Vance asked, the frustration in his voice evident.
"What about her?"
"Did you tell her about your engagement?"
"Not yet. She doesn't need to know."
Vance shook his head, a look of profound disappointment on his face. "You can't deceive her and yourself, Damien. She's injured, she has amnesia, and her family are vultures. You're the only light in the darkness around her. Don't you think she might fall in love with you and get hurt when she finds out?"
Damien stared into his glass, his hand tightening around it. "I..." he began, then fell silent.
"I may not know much about her feelings for you, but I know how you feel about her. It's all over your face. We've known each other since we were kids, and the way you feel about her is called love."
Finally, Damien looked up, his eyes filled with a pained honesty. "You're right. I love Sarah. I would never intentionally hurt her."
"I understand that. But don't you think finding out about your engagement from others will hurt her?" Vance asked, his voice laced with frustration.
"She won't find out," Damien insisted, but his voice lacked conviction.
Vance scoffed, reaching for a newspaper on the table next to them and slamming it down in front of Damien. "She might have already found out."
Damien's eyes fell to the front page of the paper, his heart sinking. There, in bold print, was the headline: "DAMIEN STERLING & PENELOPE WELLINGTON TYING THE KNOT SOON? Sterling-Wellington Engagement Announcement: A New Alliance for the City's Elite." Below it was a glossy picture of him and Penelope, smiling stiffly for the camera at a recent gala. The image was a stark, painful contrast to the raw, honest moments he had shared with Sarah.
He picked up the paper, his fingers trembling slightly. He had always known this day would come, but seeing it in black and white was different. He thought of Sarah's kind eyes and the fragile trust she had placed in him. He had promised to be her rock, to be there for her. But how could he be her rock when he was about to build his life on a foundation of lies? The fear was a cold, sharp knife in his gut. If she finds out, she will hate me, he thought. She'll think I was just playing with her, that our moments were all a farce. He was terrified of losing the only genuine connection he had ever known.
He thought back to the kiss he had given her on the cheek. He had wanted more, but he had pulled back, not just because of the logical side of him but also because he was afraid that if he gave into his feelings, he would lose her. He had to be careful with her. She had been through so much. He wanted to wait until she was ready, but he didn't know if he could wait any longer.
Vance placed a stack of bills on the table. "My treat." He got up and left, frustrated that his friend was getting engaged to a woman he didn't love while longing for the one he loved wholeheartedly. He thought to himself, "I'm glad I said no to my family when they disapproved of me studying to become a doctor and not inheriting our family's business; otherwise, my life would be similar to Damien's."
Later that evening, in the Sterling manor's opulent living room, Penelope sat opposite Don, a delicate teacup in her hands. Damien had yet to return.
"He's so busy these days," Penelope said with a sigh. "All he talks about is business."
Don smiled softly, the warmth in his eyes a stark contrast to the coldness Damien so often saw there. "That's my grandson. He lost his parents too early, you know. He was a little boy when it happened."
Penelope's expression curious. "I don't know much about his past."
"He didn't speak for a whole year," Don continued, his voice tinged with a deep sadness. "He was so quiet, so obedient, a little shy. He didn't like spending time with other children. He was always around the grownups, listening to their business conversations. He was more like a small adult than a boy."
Don paused, a hint of pride entering his voice. "Later, I sent him to study business in London. He always refused to come home for holidays, and I was too busy with the company to go visit him." Don's gaze drifted to the framed photograph of a young Damien on the mantelpiece. "But the day he finished his studies and came back home, he was already a young man I could entrust my company to. People say he has a brilliant mind, but behind that, a lot of things are hiding."
Penelope listened intently, a new understanding dawning on her. She saw not just the man she was to marry, but the quiet, lonely boy he once was. Don's voice, filled with both pride and profound sadness, painted a portrait of a grandson he admired, but perhaps didn't fully understand. She realized that Damien's coldness was not a choice, but a scar left from a childhood of loss. She looked at Don, who still had tears in his eyes, and a wave of empathy washed over her. Maybe Damien wasn't as indifferent as he seemed. Maybe, just maybe, he was just broken.