________Damian pov
"Boss, the article is out. Would you like to check it?"
Jason, my second secretary asked as he forwarded the newspaper for the day. It had the article Jenna had edited posted in physical form.
Seeing it filled with a sense of unnad pride.
In this digital age, no one cared about newspapers except the influential elite. The exact people who needed to read this. Jenna had executed her plan flawlessly. Better than most professionals working for .
But as proud and happy I felt for her, a part of also felt bitter. This article had taken Jenna’s attention in a way she had never given .
’Tsk, now I am getting jealous of paper.’
"You all did good. What about the other job I asked you to do?"
I forced the thoughts out of my mind and shifted back to business.
"We’ve deleted all evidence linking us to the charity and the orphanage. Records are wiped. And the authorities will stay silent."
His tone was calm, practiced. Jason handled the dirtier work. There was no one more suited to erasing a trail.
’Jenna will be pleased with this. We could... celebrate later.’
Celebrate. With her.
Why that thought ward my chest... I didn’t understand. Didn’t want to understand. I just wanted to press my lips against her...
"You worked hard and gave good results. I’ll approve your request for the leave-"
I stopped mid-sentence.
My phone screen flashed with a new headline - and the words hit like an impact.
[Director of an orphanage associated with Miss Anabella’s Charity found dead. Kids are in shock over the news. Click here for exclusive details.]
If Jenna saw this... the smile she wore this morning would vanish instantly.
I didn’t want that to happen.
And I hated that I didn’t want that.
"Boss, is sothing wrong? Let check-"
Jason opened the news as well. His face instantly drained of color.
"Boss...this isn’t our doing..."
"I know. Soone is trying to challenge us."
________Jenna’s pov
When Damian ca back, he had a guilty look on his face. Sohow, I could tell that he was worried about the death of the director.
"What happened-"
"There is not your fault. We both could not have seen this coming. I am sure the ones who killed the director also made sure to clean up after themselves. There is no point in looking into it anymore for now."
I told Damian, and he sighed before looking away.
His shoulders dropped, but his fists stayed clenched, like he was ready to tear soone apart if he ever found the ones responsible.
"Should we go and pay the director’s funeral a visit? I am sure there will be a lot of people who will be interested to see us there."
We decided to head out the next day. The ride to the funeral felt heavier than silence itself.
Damian didn’t start the engine right away. He sat there for a few seconds, gripping the steering wheel like he was trying to hold himself together.
That was rare. Damian Black did not tremble. And the fact that he had decided not to take the driver today was also a decision he did not usually make.
’What is going on. Is Damian feeling sick? He doesn’t look pale or anything-’
I felt conflicted whether I should reach out and touch him. He was sending mixed signals, pulling back one second and leaning forward the next one.
The sll of his perfu made my stomach flutter and I pretended to look outside the window, hoping he won’t notice how much he was affecting .
I watched the city pass through the window, but my attention kept drifting back to the man beside . There was sothing on his mind, buried deep, and it was clawing at him from the inside.
He opened his mouth once, as if he wanted to say sothing, but nothing ca out. He only sighed and tightened his grip on the wheel.
"Is there sothing you want to tell ?"
I said finally.
His eyes stayed on the road.
"Maybe."
There was no sarcasm, no mask, no coldness. Just one word, heavy and tired. That scared more than anything. He sounded conflicted, but he did not continue to speak.
"Are you having second thoughts about all this? If you feel guilty, then you can bla for what happened."
I told Damian and he scoffed and almost smacked the car into the one in front of us before he managed to steady himself.
"Guity? Why would I feel guilty for that sorry-excuse-of-a-human-being? And I am not worried either. I just...need so ti to think over what I need to do next."
Damian sounded a little frustrated when he told this. I could not help but feel that there truly was sothing wrong with him.
My worry must have shown on my face, because Damian let out a frustrated sigh and reached out to squeeze my hand.
"Don’t worry about it. I am sure you know by now what the real nature of my work is. Things like guilt are not soti I reserve for scums like that. So don’t worry about that much."
His eyes softened-not fully, but enough. He glanced at for half a second, and I saw his shoulders loosen for the first ti since he ca ho.
"Hmm, alright. I will believe you...for now. But please, do rember that you are not in this alone. I may not be able to help you out much, but I can be a ear you can vent to."
I told him and that earned a breath-almost a laugh. Almost. The tension in his body didn’t completely disappear, but it shifted, settling instead of suffocating.
For a mont, I let myself relax too. The quiet wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t stabbing anymore. Just heavy.
We reached the funeral ho and stepped out. People looked at us, but none of their gazes made falter. It was finally ti to face these people.
We finally got out of the car, our hands clasped together and people suddenly looked at us, judging what we were here for.
The funeral was a tense place, and it was the best place to send a ssage and make people panic and cause mistakes.
The wind was cold, sharp even, but the stares were colder.
Damian remained by my side, his hand warm on my own.
The people continued to look at with contempt, but they were too much of a coward to co out and ask .
"Stay by my side. You do not have to say anything if you do not want to. Let handle the talking."
Damian told without looking at . His tension from before had returned in his fra.
"I am not afraid of them."
I assured Damian, noticing the unspoken question he wanted to ask .
He stared down at , and sothing shifted ever so slightly in his eyes. A quiet exhale left him, subtle enough that no one else would catch it.
We took a seat in the front row, and the mont we did, half the room leaned forward like animals sniffing blood.
A few reporters even dared to move closer, pretending to pray at the altar just to get better angles.
I could feel Damian reaching his limit. Without thinking, I brushed my thumb over the back of his hand in slow circles - grounding him, anchoring him.
His head lowered. A breath escaped him. His hand loosened around mine, not letting go, just... softening.
"Thank you."
He murmured, barely audible.
But the comfortable silence did not last long.
"Oh my... what a surprise. I didn’t know you two would be joining this funeral."
I didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. That voice was like nails scraping glass.
Miss Anabbels’s voice was soft but her eyes looked haunted. She looked like she was not here, but as soon as she saw , her eyes sharpened.
Those eyes told that the female wanted to claw my insides and give a painful death. But because we were in front of an audience, she was holding herself back.
"Miss Anabella, what a pleasant surprise it is to et you."
I could not help but call out to her, causing the other female’s eyes to flash.
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