Chapter 5

Damian's POV

The first place I went after being kicked out of Sterling Group was the investment firm.

I was still wearing yesterday's suit. My sleeve was torn from where the guard had grabbed me, and my tie was askew.

The receptionist made me wait in the lobby from morning until late afternoon. Finally, a junior project manager came out to meet me.

He didn't even invite me into a conference room. He just sat opposite me in the open reception area.

"Mr. Sterling, we are aware of your situation."

I glared at him. "I want to see your managing partner."

"He is unavailable."

"That wasn't his attitude when he wanted me to sign that debt agreement."

The manager placed a document on the glass table. "The foreclosure has been initiated. We will not be releasing any further capital."

I let out a bitter laugh. "How much did Elena Vance pay you?"

"Ms. Vance did not contact us directly," the manager replied smoothly. "She utilized Cypress Capital as her financial advisor."

My heart did a violent flip. "Cypress Capital?"

"Yes. Their equity transfer has already been registered. Mr. Sterling, nobody in New York is going to cross Cypress Capital for you."

The words were spoken softly, but they crushed me.

I sat frozen on the sofa, my nails biting into my palms.

I knew Cypress Capital. They were one of the most ruthless private equity firms in Manhattan. I had no idea Elena even knew they existed, let alone had them in her pocket.

The manager stood up.

"If you wish to dispute this, please have your legal counsel contact our compliance department."

"I just need a short-term bridge loan. Just a couple of million."

"Mr. Sterling," the manager said, picking up the folder. "All your personal and corporate assets have been frozen."

By the time I was escorted out of the building, the sun had set.

I stood on the sidewalk, dialing Serena's number.

The first call went straight to voicemail.

The second was declined.

On the third, a cold, automated voice told me the number was no longer in service.

I caught a cab to the luxury condo I had rented for her.

The building was a high-rise in Chelsea, quiet and exclusive.

Serena had complained about the street noise, so I had paid extra to have double-pane acoustic glass installed. She had told me she was terrified of being locked out, so I had kept a spare key hidden behind the fire extinguisher in the hallway.

The space behind the extinguisher was empty now.

And the lock on the door had been changed.

I buzzed the intercom repeatedly, but there was no answer.

The building manager walked up the corridor, looking at me with a look of pity and discomfort. "Mr. Sterling, Miss Morrow moved out."

"When?"

"The afternoon your company's restructuring made the news."

My hand remained glued to the smart lock. "Who helped her move?"

"Two guys from a moving company. Miss Morrow said she wouldn't be returning and explicitly told us not to let any 'unauthorized individuals' up to the floor."

Unauthorized.

The word echoed in my head.

The manager added, "She left in such a hurry she didn't even ask for her security deposit back."

The hallway lights flickered off.

I stood in the darkness, my phone screen glowing. There was still no reply from Serena.

I suddenly remembered the look Elena had given me in the garage.

She hadn't cried. She hadn't screamed.

She had known Serena would run the second the money dried up.

Only I was stupid enough to keep paying medical bills for someone who already had her bags packed.

Late that night, I dragged my suitcase to the dingy studio apartment I had lived in before I started Sterling Group.

The wallpaper in the hallway was peeling, and a water bill warning was taped to the door.

The key jammed twice in the rusty lock. I forced it open, and the smell of damp air rushed to greet me.

The cheap bed was still there.

The scratched wooden desk was still there.

Even the broken chair by the window was still there.

I had brought Elena here once.

Back when Sterling was just an idea and I couldn't even afford a co-working space.

Elena had sat at that scratched desk, rewriting my pitch deck until the sun came up.

The next day, she had walked me into my first pitch.

I had walked out with my first check.

But later, when I told the story to reporters, I always said, I built this empire with my own bare hands.

I pushed my suitcase against the wall and sat on the edge of the mattress.

The springs creaked under my weight.

My phone buzzed.

Someone had forwarded me Elena's social media post.

It was a photo of her standing on a beach in the Hamptons. Her red dress billowed in the wind against a backdrop of endless blue water.

The caption was simple:

"A beautiful day."

I stared at the picture.

She hadn't looked back.

She didn't mention me.

She didn't mention Sterling Group.

I realized with a crushing weight that Elena didn't even care enough to show me her pain.

The screen went dark.

I was entirely alone in the damp studio apartment with an unpacked suitcase and my own regrets.