Chapter 6

• The room was a disaster.
• Shattered porcelain littered the floor, glinting under the chandelier’s dim light. The expensive, hand-painted figurines—probably worth more than my entire annual salary—lay in ruins. And at the center of it all, standing on the bed like a tiny, furious king, was Ethan.
• His small hands clenched the last remaining figurine, holding it high above his head like a final act of defiance.
• If he jumped down, he’d hurt himself.
• Just outside the doorway, the man from the plane—Ethan’s so-called uncle—stood rigid, his towering presence sucking the air from the room. He no longer looked merely cold; his entire aura screamed danger. A walking execution order, barely restrained.
• He spoke, his voice smooth yet sharp as a blade. “How long until the psychologist arrives?”
• The woman beside him swallowed hard. “They’re on their way, but… there were stray bullets on the road. It’s delayed.”
• Stray bullets? My pulse jumped, but before I could process that insanity, the tension in the room thickened.
• Ethan sniffled, his frustration mounting. Then, with a furious cry, he hurled the figurine.
• It crashed against the floor, shattering into a thousand sharp fragments.
• The sound was deafening.
• The man’s expression didn’t change. If anything, something colder flickered in his eyes. Then, after a beat of silence, he exhaled and said something so ridiculous, I thought I misheard him.
• “Bring him more things to break.”
• What the—
• I turned on him instantly, shoving him back with more force than I probably should have. My heart pounded as I met his gaze, but I refused to flinch.
• “Are you out of your damn mind?”
• His body barely moved under my push, but the bodyguards nearby did. They stiffened, their hands subtly shifting toward their weapons.
• I didn’t care.
• Ethan was still sniffling on the bed, surrounded by broken glass, his little chest heaving.
• I stepped forward and reached a hand toward him.
• “Don’t move, sweetheart. You might get hurt,” I said gently. “Wait for me, okay?”
• The second Ethan saw me, his tear-filled eyes brightened, cutting straight through my heart. Then, without hesitation, he reached his arms toward me, his voice small but urgent.
• “Serena… hug me!”
• I moved without thinking.
• But before I could take a step, Damien Sinclair’s voice sliced through the air.
• “No contact with strangers.”
• I shot him a look. “Are you serious?”
• The man had control issues. Clearly.
• Ignoring him, I carefully stepped over the broken shards and reached Ethan, scooping him up into my arms. His tiny arms immediately wrapped around my neck, clinging to me as if I were the only safe place in the world.
• I stroked his back soothingly. “Don’t listen to them, kiddo. You’ll be happy all year.”
• Ethan giggled, his warm breath tickling my skin. “Serena is so nice.”
• Around us, the room fell into a stunned silence.
• Everyone, from the bodyguards to the woman beside Damien, looked like they’d just witnessed a death wish in action.
• Because apparently, no one defied Damien Sinclair and lived to talk about it.
• His expression didn’t shift, but the air in the room grew sharper, heavier.
• His glacier-blue eyes locked onto me, unreadable, but there was something lethal there—something that sent a warning through my veins.
• For a long, tense moment, no one moved. No one breathed.
• Then—
• Damien let out a low, humorless chuckle.
• The oppressive atmosphere snapped like a broken wire.
• The bodyguards subtly relaxed, though their eyes remained sharp, their hands still too close to their weapons for my liking.
• I ignored them. My focus was on Ethan.
• His breathing was steady, his fever under control, but his little body still trembled against mine.
• I adjusted my grip on him and turned toward the door.
• “If you people don’t know how to take care of a child,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, “then I will.”
• I took a step, intent on leaving with Ethan, but two bodyguards immediately blocked my path.
• “Ms. Woods, you can’t leave.”
• I lifted my chin, refusing to be intimidated.
• Now that I had a name to put to the man in front of me, it only reinforced what I already suspected.
• Damien Sinclair.
• The Cold-Blooded Demon. The heir to a family with power woven into every corrupt corner of the world. A man whose financial empire was as vast as it was deadly.
• I’d read about him. Heard the rumors.
• People who crossed him disappeared. Deals with him were written in blood.
• But I wasn’t afraid.
• I was just a doctor. Not a threat. And if Damien wanted me dead, he would’ve done it already.
• So I met his gaze, steady and unwavering.
• “I didn’t say I was leaving,” I said calmly.
• For a second—just a second—something flickered in his icy stare.
• Interest.
• And that was even more dangerous than his wrath.
• Ethan was curled against me, his small body warm, his breathing steady. I ran a soothing hand over his back, my touch instinctive, gentle. His tiny fingers clung to my shirt as if letting go would make me disappear.
• I didn’t blame him.
• He’d been terrified just moments ago, his world crashing down in sharp, porcelain shards. And the man responsible for it—his so-called guardian—stood just a few feet away.
• Damien Sinclair.
• I felt him before I saw him.
• The air shifted, thickening with something heavy, something dark. A presence too commanding to ignore.
• Then, he stepped forward.
• Tall. Dangerous. Unreadable.
• “You must have guessed who I am by now,” he said.
• His voice was smooth, deceptively calm, but there was something beneath it. Something coiled and waiting.
• I lifted my gaze to his, unfazed. “So what if I have?”
• Silence.
• A slow, almost imperceptible shift in the room. The bodyguards, the staff—everyone watching—held their breath, as if I’d just thrown myself into the lion’s den.
• I didn’t care.
• I tightened my hold on Ethan. “Just because you’re powerful—just because you’re cold-blooded—does that give you the right to hurt this child?”
• I didn’t want to get involved in his family’s affairs. I had no business stepping into the life of a man like Damien Sinclair.
• But I had seen. I had heard. And there were moments in life when staying silent made you complicit.
• This was one of those moments.
• I didn’t think about the consequences.
• I didn’t care that I was speaking to a man who could make people disappear without a trace.
• Because if I stayed quiet now, who would ever stand up for me when my own world turned cruel?
• I knew I was digging my own grave. I could feel the weight of the moment pressing against my ribs, but I didn’t back down.
• Damien studied me, his icy gaze piercing, assessing.
• The room felt impossibly still.
• Then, he did something I didn’t expect.
• He smiled.
• It was slow. Cold. Amused in a way that made my stomach tighten.
• “Let’s make a deal,” he said, his voice soft but laced with steel. “You stay. Take care of Ethan. In return, I’ll ensure your safety.”
• I stilled.
• That was… unexpected.
• Ethan looked up at me, his wide, hopeful eyes shining like tiny stars.
• My heart clenched.
• This wasn’t what I came here for. I was supposed to check on Ethan, make sure he was okay, and then walk away. That was the smart choice.
• But those eyes—so trusting, so desperate for someone to stay—told me I couldn’t.
• “How about my research?” I shot back
• “You will continue tour research from here and i will provide everything you need”
• I met Damien’s gaze again, feeling the weight of the deal settling between us.
• “If I agree, I have a condition,” I said.
• One of his brows lifted slightly, intrigued. “Go on.”
• “It’s not just my safety here,” I said slowly, deliberately. “I want absolute safety when I go back home, too.”
• I wasn’t naive. Being involved with a man like Damien, even indirectly, could make me a target. If I did this, I needed guarantees.
• Damien didn’t look surprised.
• He leaned back, stretching one long leg over the other, exuding an effortless dominance that made the room feel smaller.
• Then, he nodded.
• “Deal.”
• Meanwhile…
• Lucas woke up with a pounding headache.
• He groaned, blinking against the morning light. His entire body felt stiff, his mouth dry from last night’s alcohol.
• Where the hell was—
• He sat up, his bloodshot eyes sweeping the room.
• His stomach churned.
• Caleb was sprawled on the floor beside the couch, out cold, one arm twisted at an odd angle. Vomit stained the carpet, the acrid smell making Lucas grimace.
• His face twisted in disgust.
• “Where the hell is Serena?” he muttered. His voice was rough, laced with irritation.
• She should’ve cleaned this mess up.
• His gaze flicked to the time. Late. She hadn’t even woken him up for work.
• Annoyance bubbled in his chest.
• “Serena!” he called out, his voice sharp, demanding.
• No answer.
• Caleb stirred at the sound, his face contorting in pain as he clutched his arm.
• “Ah, it hurts! It really hurts!”
• Lucas scowled, pressing his fingers against his temple. His patience was already razor-thin, and Caleb’s whining only made it worse.
• “Stop crying,” he snapped. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
• Caleb sniffled, his lip quivering. “Dad… my arm hurts.”
• Lucas squinted, finally noticing the deep bruise forming along his son’s arm.
• Shit.
• Caleb tried to move it, but the moment he did, he winced.
• Lucas cursed under
• Lucas exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stop crying," he snapped. "Tell me what happened properly."
• Caleb sniffled, biting back his sobs. "Dad… my arm hurts. I—I can't lift it."
• Lucas’s jaw clenched as he took in the bruising. Without hesitation, he grabbed his phone and dialed the first number on his list—Serena.
• She was working the night shift again.
• His grip tightened around the phone.
• Enough. She belonged here, not wasting her nights on strangers while their son suffered. If she wouldn't quit willingly… he'd make sure she had no choice.
• But he has forgotten that she is no longer his