Chapter Forty-Seven

Damian

K arma. It’s what everyone loves to preach when they’re too weak to get justice on their own. They clutch it like a lifeline, a sick comfort that lets them sleep at night, convinced that someone or something will make things right for them.

But Karma? It’s just a fantasy, a comforting lie wrapped in empty promises.

I’ve seen how this world works. It rewards the ruthless, the ones who can lie with a smile and snatch with a gentle hand. I’ve watched as monsters in suits stroll down red carpets, praised and loved, while good people are buried six feet under, all because they dared to hope, dared to be kind.

If Karma were real, there wouldn’t be so many graves lined with broken hearts and shattered dreams. If Karma were real, I’d have never been dragged through hell by the very people who preach justice, who stand on stages and talk about integrity with blood on their hands.

The good don’t get rewarded in this world. They’re used. Chewed up. Spit out. I was one of them, once. I had faith in that kind of justice, that kind of naive belief that, eventually, the scales would tip, that the suffering would end, that people like me wouldn’t have to bleed just to survive. But all I ever got was more scars, deeper wounds. And all I saw was the corrupt rise higher, unscathed, untouched by any so-called retribution.

So I let go of that childish idea of Karma, tossed it aside like all the other fairytales I’d been fed. Because Karma isn’t some mystical force waiting to set things right. Karma is whoever’s left standing when the dust settles, the one who’s strong enough to wield it, to carve it into the bones of those who deserve it. And now? Now, that’s me.

I don’t sit around waiting for the universe to punish those who’ve wronged me. No, I’ve become their reckoning, the darkness they can’t hide from, the consequence they thought would never come. I am what they should have feared from the beginning. I’m here to tip the scales myself, to show them what justice really looks like when it’s stripped of all its hollow virtues. And when I’m done, they’ll finally understand what it’s like to pay. Because the universe doesn’t keep score. I do.

They wanted a villain, so here I am. The one they thought was too broken, too defeated to rise again. But I’ve risen from the ashes they left me in, forged in the flames of every betrayal, every scar they left behind. And I won’t stop until every single one of them has felt what I had—until they look into my eyes and see that I am their Karma, the nightmare they never saw coming.

A sea of flashing cameras, booming voices, and eager reporters flood the steps as soon as I come out of the court.

Hal and his team create a wall of solid muscle around me, moving with purpose, shoving reporters aside, no hesitation, no mercy as they guide me through with ruthless efficiency.

Cameras continue to flash, their words loud and desperate, trying to get a reaction. My sunglasses shield the hard, steely gaze beneath as I stride forward.

“How does it feel to finally achieve your goal?” A voice cuts through, dripping with an almost worshipful reverence, like they’re addressing a God.

“How does it feel to take something that’s been built for decades and just crush it under your boot?” A reporter sneers.

Amazing. It feels fucking amazing.

“Is it true that bribing senators and other influential figures was part of your strategy to win this lawsuit?” Another pipes up, daring me to react.

The words don’t matter. They never do. My expression doesn’t waver, the years of brutal self-control woven into every inch of me. It’s second nature now, this ironclad mask I wear. I’ve spent a lifetime honing it, conditioning myself to be unshakeable, to show no weakness, no sign of what’s boiling inside me.

The flashes continue along with their questions, but they don’t touch me. Nothing ever does. I’ve fought for too long, bled for too much, to let anyone—least of all these vultures—see any crack in my armor.

“Is this some sort of a revenge move?” Someone asks.

Revenge? I shake my head internally. They call this revenge?

The world loves a simple story, a black-and-white explanation for what’s really a storm of darkness.

The truth? This is payback, yes, but nothing in comparison to what I have originally planned. The man I just crushed thought he could destroy me. Thought his power, his money, could bury me in the dirt.

That was one of his colossal mistakes. He underestimated me. He thought he can defeat me. He’s the one who’s been defeated and destroyed. His empire is nothing but rubble now, the ashes of his greed scattered across the winds.

The guy I just obliterated is a parasite. A man who never played fair, who used every trick in the book to climb to the top, and used innocent people as his stepping stone. I just made him feel what it feels like to be someone else’s stepping stone.

I took his empire. Every last inch of it. Every asset, every account, every piece of his legacy. He’s broke now, stripped of everything he thought was his.

He thought he could challenge me, that he could drain his last few pennies in some misguided lawsuit against an ‘hostile takeover.’ Every move I made to reach this moment was legal, meticulously so. The win? Predetermined. A mere technicality, really.

This is not revenge like I said. What I’ve got planned for him is far worse than that. This is about more than just a lawsuit. This is about rewriting history, about giving him his Karma, something he’s been dodging his entire life.

The protesters are scattered along the sidewalk, their faces twisted with anger. The protestors are the former employees of the man whose empire I took over.

They’ve lost their jobs because of me. I see their scornful eyes follow my every step as I move toward the waiting car, their voices rising, a chorus of accusations thrown at my back. “Greedy bastard!” one of them yells, “You ruined everything!” The words are like bullets. But I keep moving, impassive.

Just as I’m about to climb into the car, a woman steps forward. Her voice bitter and full of accusation. “I hope you know you’re going to hell for this!”

I just stare at her, my gaze empty. “I’ve lived there all my life.”

Her eyes widen. I slide into the car, the door slamming shut behind me.

Hal’s already in the front seat, a look of frustration on his face. He curses under his breath. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s my fault. I misjudged the timeline. Moving and recruiting all the former employees to the new branch is taking longer than I planned. You shouldn’t have had to deal with the fallout.”

“Get it done by the end of the week.”

He nods grimly and faces forward. The car pulls away, and I let my eyes drift to the scene outside the window.

The angry protesters glare in my direction, but then something catches my eye. A man, dressed in a worn flannel shirt and faded jeans, stands near the edge of the crowd. The man’s face is rough, haggard, the lines carved deep from years of struggle. His eyes meet mine, filled with helplessness.

For a heartbeat, time stops.

And then, the world shifts.

His face distorts. And in its place, a face I know too well—a face that haunts my every thought—forms.

My father’s.

I wrench my eyes off the haunting reminder.

My hand reaches for my sunglasses, pulling them off hastily. The sharp throb behind my eyelids is almost unbearable.

The car speeds away, the protesters and that man now distant figures in the side-view mirror.

Leaning my head back against the headrest, I close my eyes.

“No, no… No!” Mamma’s voice is almost unrecognizable, ripping through the house as she stares at the officer in the doorway. Her hand flies to her mouth, eyes wide with horror, her whole body shaking.

I step back, my heart hammering in my chest as I watch her turn and run for the bedroom, one hand on her swollen belly.

“Ma’am! Mrs. Sabatino!” The officers call after her, moving past me, but all I can do is stand there. I feel sick—like something’s crawling in my stomach, twisting everything up.

I want to run to Papà’s garage, to find him and bring him home. Only he could calm Mamma when she got upset, only he knew how to make everything okay.

But Papà told me not to.

“Damian, listen to me,” he’d said just two days ago, crouching down until we were eye-to-eye. “You are eight years old now. That means you are the man of the house when I’m not here. Do you know what that means, figlio mio?”

I’d nodded, even though I didn’t really understand. I wanted to be strong for him, to make him proud. Papà travels a lot for work, and he always worries when he’s away from home. I want him to rely on me. “It means I have to take care of Mamma and… and my sister.” My gaze had drifted to her belly.

He’d smiled, warm but serious, a hand resting on my shoulder. “That’s right, son. You have a sorellina on the way. And Mamma—” His voice softened as he glanced toward her, then back at me. “She needs you, especially now. She needs you close by, watching over her and your sister. It’s what a man does, Damian.”

“But… I want to go with you, Papà. I can help. I can hold the tools and learn, like last time.” I’d tugged at his shirt, looking up at him with hope and stubbornness.

Papà laughed softly, ruffling my hair. “Ah, mio figlio… I’d take you every day if I could. You know that. But sometimes, men have to make hard choices. Sometimes, we have to stay where we’re needed most, not where we want to be.”

I’d frowned, trying to make sense of it. “But… can’t I do both? Can’t I take care of Mamma and still come with you?”

He shook his head. “No, Damian. Right now, Mamma and your sister are more important than anything else. You’re the one who has to look after them while I’m away. Can you do that for me?”

Nodding grimly, I say, “Yes, Papà. I can stay with Mamma and the baby.”

He’d pulled me into a tight hug then, his voice quiet in my ear. “That’s my boy.”

The officer’s frantic voice brings me back, snapping me to the awful present.

All I can think about is Papà’s words. He trusted me to take care of Mamma. He told me it was my job, that Mamma and the baby need me.

I straighten my back, setting my shoulders like I’d seen Papà do, and step forward, glaring up at the officers as they bang on the door.

“Please don’t shout. You’ll scare Mamma. And if Mamma’s scared, it’ll scare my sister too.”

One of the officers kneels down. “Why don’t you wait outside, son?”

I shake my head, clenching my fists. “I can’t leave. She needs me.”

The cries from the bedroom have gone quiet, and a sick feeling sinks into my stomach when one officer begins slamming his shoulder against the door.

My chest rises and falls rapidly as I watch everything with chills running down my spine.

I hear the splintering of wood as he shoves again, harder this time. The door’s frame cracks under the pressure, and I can feel the force of it vibrate through me.

Everything goes dead silent. The world feels like it’s paused, the only sound a dull ringing in my ears as they shove their way inside.

One of them lunges at me, his hand reaching for my arm, but I’m already slipping away. My breath is ragged, sharp gasps, but there’s no sound, no noise. I barely feel the air around me as I slip past him, running into the room.

That’s when I see Mamma.

Hanging from the ceiling, her head tilted to one side, her blank eyes locked on mine.

“Sir!” Hal’s voice breaks through the haze as my eyes snap open.

I grunt, my neck stiff from the awkward position, and force myself to sit up straighter.

“What is it?” My voice comes out gruff.

“You were muttering in your sleep...” Hal starts, but when he catches the cold edge in my eyes, he quickly changes the topic. “We’re here.”

I don’t need to look outside to know. I get out of the car, jaw clenched tight as I stride toward my sleek thirty-seven-story office building.

No one is supposed to see me that way. I’ve worked my whole life to ensure no one ever does. But Hal saw it. And that’s something I’ll never let myself forget.

The legal team that followed us catches up as I move across the spacious lobby, their footsteps urgent.

One of the men catches up to me. “Sir, I know we finalized everything, but… if I may, I still think it’s a mistake to recruit the former employees. The decision of bringing them on could damage the company—”

I stop dead in my tracks, and the sound of footsteps halts behind me.

My gaze is sharp as I turn my head, meeting Hal’s eyes.

Hal’s posture straightens, his hand already gripping the man’s shoulder with an iron grip.

I turn and begin walking again. But just before I reach the elevator, I hear Hal’s voice, firm and cold. “You’re fired.”

I don’t need to look back to know the man is frozen in place, his face ashen.

“Fired?” the man stammers. “But—”

Hal cuts him off. “Don’t speak unless spoken to. As a form of compensation, you’ll receive double what you’re owed, but you need to leave. Now.”

I understood the lawyer’s logic, his concern was valid. But what he doesn’t know is that I never put profit before innocent people’s livelihood. I had no intention of leaving those employees without jobs. I could’ve reassured them, could’ve promised them new roles within the company before the layoffs were even announced. But I needed them to believe they were discarded. I needed them angry, protesting on the streets.

I wanted the takeover to be as public as possible. Their protests, their outrage, had pushed this case into international headlines. And that was exactly the outcome I wanted.

I wanted everyone in the world to know about my victory.

As I step into the elevator, I turn and lock eyes with my assistant, watching him hesitate just as he’s about to board. He freezes mid-step, unsure of what he should do. Hal, striding in our direction, notices this and quickly reaches out, grabbing my assistant’s bicep to stop him. His grip is firm, pulling him back before he can step inside. Hal looks at me with a silent question, asking if I want him to stay outside with the rest of them. I give a small nod, and without another word, I press the button to close the doors.

Once the doors close, I reach for my tie and yank at it, loosening it before I start unbuttoning the top two buttons. My hands tremble like they always do after my nightmares. However, this was new as I never had one in the day.

Taking a deep breath, I tell myself, I did it. I finally did what I’ve waited twenty-four long, hellish years to do. For the first time in all those years, I can almost breathe without hurting again.

But I know this isn’t the end. I’m still far from my goal, but this victory has pushed me several steps closer.

Even so, it can’t bring my family back. Nothing can. And that truth claws at me, tearing away at whatever humanity I have left. But that’s fine. I’ve already buried that part of me.

They took everything from me, and I will make each and every one of them pay. Slowly. Brutally. Piece by piece, I’ll watch their worlds burn—watch them burn—until they’re nothing but charred ruins. No escape. No mercy. Every last one of them will suffer in ways they can’t even begin to imagine.

I was weak then—helpless. Just a child, lost and discarded, an orphan tossed between foster homes. But not anymore. Not anymore .

The softness I once had in me, the love, the care died with my family and the remnants was beaten out of me, stripped away until all I knew was cold fury. Loathing. Hatred. And an insatiable thirst for vengeance that burns hotter with every breath.

Time has changed now. But not by a miracle. I worked hard for it. And now, I hold the world in the palm of my hand. Every single one of them—the ones who destroyed my family, or stood idly by as it happened—will pay. No one escapes. Not a single soul will be spared. I’m halfway through it already.

Years of discipline, of honing my mind and body, have turned me into a sophisticated man. But no amount of training can erase the animal inside me, the one who thrives on watching them squirm. The man I’ve become might wear a tailored suit and speak in controlled tones, but deep down, there’s a savage beast who takes pleasure in the fear I instill, in the way their sweat stains their skin when they realize they’re powerless.

The elevator dings. I step out, already plotting my next move, the cold thrill of revenge buzzing under my skin like an electric current.

The game has only just begun.

◆◆◆

I’m on edge, wired, since I returned from court. I can’t tell if it’s finally hitting me that I’ve taken over their empire—or if it’s the nightmare I had earlier that’s digging into my mind, making my skin crawl. Either way, something’s off , and I can feel the control slipping— and that is unacceptable .

I don’t lose control. Ever. I’ve built my entire existence on dominance—on power. I’m the one who commands, the one who decides. My every move, every step, every breath is calculated. People bend to my will, and I make them bend without a second thought. I never let anything slip. But right now, this feeling crawling under my skin, gnawing at my insides, is a reminder that I’m human—vulnerable in a way I can’t allow.

I’ve been barking orders all day, the words coming out like clockwork, but they don’t satisfy me the way they should. I’ve been drowning in coffee, pacing the length of my office, trying to fight the growing pressure in my chest. There’s sweat on my forehead, and it disgusts me. I don’t sweat. I’m not weak. But today, everything is closing in on me, and I can’t fucking shake it. The air feels thick. The silence in the room feels too loud. I can’t breathe, can’t focus.

I glance at my watch. It feels like the hands are stuck, frozen in place, waiting for me to lose patience. My fingers twitch, desperate to make the seconds move faster. But they don’t.

I reach for the phone, dialing the London branch with ruthless precision, trying to latch onto something, anything, that will distract me. I need to regain control. Now.

It doesn’t help. For the first time in my life, focusing on work doesn’t help me calm down. I unbutton the third button in haste, barely listening to the person on the other end.

I’m barely hanging on, fighting the rising panic clawing at the back of my mind, when the door to my office opens. I turn, ready to snap. But then I see her.

River.

She stands in the doorway like some kind of dream I’ve been craving without even knowing. Her pale green eyes lock onto mine—those eyes, so fucking soft, making it impossible to look away.

She looks like she’s been brought into my world from a different one—porcelain skin, flawless and creamy, a soft, pink mouth that hints at sweetness, and loose, glossy curls falling around her face like some angelic crown.

And when she smiles, something inside me snaps.

Without another thought, I abort the call and stride toward her, desperation building inside me. I need her, need to feel her, need to drown out the chaos in my mind. My steps are fast, like I’m running out of time, like I won’t survive unless I touch her.

I reach her in a matter of seconds, bending low, lifting her into my arms. She gasps, but I don’t give her a chance to react. I pull her against me, crushing her to my chest like I’m afraid she’ll disappear if I don’t hold on tight enough.

I bury my face in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply. Her scent—sweet, warm, comforting—hits me like a bullet in the chest. I breathe her in like I’m drowning. I don’t care that I’m shaking a little, that I’m feeling things I can’t explain. I just need this. I need her.

Her hands find my shoulders, and I feel her touch like a brand against my skin. My pulse quickens, but it’s different now—calmer. Softer. Like she’s taming the beast in me, making the anger and desperation subside.

I can already feel the change in me, my breath slowing, steadier now as I feel her heartbeat in sync with mine. Every tension from the day evaporates with her in my arms.

Her mere presence pulls me from the edge, and I can breathe again.

The storm in me isn’t gone. It’ll never be. But with her in my arms, I can survive it.

“Surprise…” she whispers, her voice sweet and light, a sound that slides straight to the center of me, cutting through every bit of hardness left from today.

I smile against her skin, something that has somehow become natural with her. She doesn’t realize she’s the only one who can coax that out of me. Before her, I didn’t even have a reason to smile.

I glance over at the floor to ceiling glass wall, catching our reflection. Her small frame dangling from my neck, feet lifted clean off the ground, dwarfed by the sheer size of me. I’m holding her so tightly it must hurt, but she doesn’t flinch, just molds into me like she belongs there. She does.

“I shouldn’t have come back to work.” My voice is gruff, hating that I even let her out of my sight today.

I feel her laugh, her shoulders shaking against me, her joy melting away the last traces of my grim mood.

Reluctantly, I ease her back down, letting her slip from my hold. But her hands linger on me as she looks up, those green eyes so trusting, so warm, like she’s waiting to hear anything I have to say.

She doesn’t know how close I am to grabbing her again, to saying to hell with everything else.

“I don’t blame you,” she says softly, her voice carrying that gentle understanding. “I know I can’t keep you chained to me forever.”

“Maybe I want to be chained,” I grumble. Her laughter spills out like music, and I can’t help but be drawn to the way her features light up. Her smile is radiant, her green eyes shimmering with a kindness I still can’t believe is meant for me .

She tilts her head, looking up at me with flushed cheeks. “I always wanted to do this… surprise you at work.”

My hand reaches up on instinct, tucking a stray curl behind her ear, my fingers lingering against her heated skin. “Then why didn’t you?”

Her expression shifts as she looks down. “Because I didn’t think I was allowed to do that.”

Allowed. Like she’s anything less than a queen.

She doesn’t get it. Doesn’t know that no one on this damn earth deserves her, least of all me. Not after everything I’ve put her through. When we married, I was so wrapped up in my own bitterness and distrust that I lashed out at the one person who had nothing to do with any of it. She was innocent, the only light in a world full of shadows, and I spent that whole year doing everything I could to dim it. I’ll never forgive myself for that.

Her smile was a rare thing back then, hidden under the weight of everything I’d thrown at her. I’d see the hope fade from her eyes when I came home late, silent, distant. I could see her struggling to understand why the man she’d married was treating her as if she were the enemy.

She took every harsh word, every cold look, absorbing my anger without ever fighting back. It’s only now that I finally see her for what she truly is—a piece of heaven I somehow stumbled into, someone far too good for the life I brought her into.

Hurting her was the worst mistake of my life. She’s the only person in this twisted world who’s never wronged me, who doesn’t deserve an ounce of the darkness I carry. And now, I finally understand that. She wasn’t part of the betrayal, wasn’t part of the deception that hardened me. She was an innocent bystander, caught in the crossfire of my own damn grudges and need for control. She deserved happiness, freedom, anything but the pain I threw her way.

But I’m a selfish bastard, because even now, I want her to be happy with me . Not without me, not moving on to some other life, no matter how much better that might be for her.

I can’t imagine a world where I’d let her go. I want to be the one who makes her smile, the one who gives her every bit of joy she’s ever missed.

These past few months have felt like a second chance, something I know I don’t deserve, but I’ve taken hold of it like a man starved.

You don’t get a woman like River twice in a lifetime, and I’m done making the same mistakes. I know her worth now, and if it takes my whole damn life to mend every scar I left, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.

“Um… I was thinking maybe we could grab lunch together?” she says, her voice a little unsure. “But if you’re busy—”

I don’t let her finish, locking eyes with her. “No, I’m not busy. Not when it’s you asking.”

The way her face lights up pulls something deep inside me. Her smile is like the sun breaking through, and I can’t help smiling back.

Instead of going out, she decides on takeout, insisting she’d rather stay here with me alone than a public place. So we end up on the office sofa, sharing a quiet meal, laughing softly, both of us wrapped up in this moment of peace.

Afterward, I catch her biting her lip, her eyes flicking toward me with that familiar, thoughtful look—the one that tells me she’s trying to work up the nerve to say something, something that’s been sitting on her mind for a while.

I tilt my head. “What’s going on?” I ask, a hint of amusement in my voice. “You’ve got that look. And here I thought I was special enough to get surprised by my wife without any hidden motives.”

Her face falls a little, and she immediately snuggles up to my side, worried. “No, that’s not—”

I cut her off with a soft kiss to her lips. “I’m just teasing, angel,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Even if you had something to ask, it wouldn’t change a thing. What’s mine will always be yours.”

Her breath catches, her lips parting, and I can’t stop myself. I lean in, capturing her mouth again with a slow, purposeful kiss. When I pull back, my voice is low, husky. “Now, tell me, what was it you wanted?”

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and she whispers, “You.”

I rise to my feet instantly, pulling her up with me, a sense of urgency building. I start tugging her toward the door.

“What are you doing?” she gasps, stumbling a bit as I lead her.

“I want you too, angel.”

She stammers, her voice catching. “B-but I didn’t mean it like that…” Her blush deepens, and I can’t help but smile, loving the way she reacts.

I pause just long enough to press a kiss to her flushed cheek. “Liar.”

“O-okay, well… I did want you, but it’s not exactly what I meant earlier.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Then what is it?” I ask, wanting her to get to the point so we can get home sooner.

She bites her lip nervously. “I was hoping you’d come with me to my friend’s engagement party this weekend.”

I frown. “Vicky’s getting married? Hal didn’t say anything.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Not Vicky… wait, why would Hal tell you anything about Vicky’s love life?”

I smile, leaning down to brush a kiss across her brow. “You’re truly na?ve, angel.”

Her frown deepens. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I say, pulling her closer again. “So if it’s not Vicky, then who’s getting married? That guy from the community center?” My voice hardens and she notices.

She shakes her head quickly, eyes wide. “No, it’s not him! It’s Summer—she’s engaged!”

The name makes everything inside me go still.

Summer.

No. It’s not possible. There’s no way it’s the same person; the world isn’t that small.

I should’ve asked Hal to look into this… Summer, but with everything going on, it slipped my mind. Still, I don’t believe in coincidences.

“So, she invited me?” I ask, wrapping an arm around her waist and beginning to lead her toward the door again.

River giggles. “Something like that.”

She tells me Summer’s getting engaged to the neighbor—the one who had the audacity to clash with me on New Year’s Eve.

“They’d be thrilled if you brought me along,” I deadpan, making her laugh.

“Does that mean you’re not coming?” she teases, but there’s a note of genuine curiosity in her eyes.

I pull her closer. “There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you alone with them.”

Her smile dies. “Do you still think I’d run?”

“No. I just don’t like sharing you with anyone.” I tighten my arm around her.

She rolls her eyes, the tension melting away as she relaxes into my arms. “I can’t believe you’re actually jealous of Summer. She’s a woman, for god’s sake.”

“Her dog isn’t.”

That makes her laugh again and watching her fills me with a fierce satisfaction.

With a final kiss to her hair, I murmur, “Let’s go home, angel.”

As she rests her head against my chest, a soft sigh leaving her lips, I know one thing beyond any doubt—I’ll never let her go.