Clariss struggled violently against the ropes biting into her wrists.
"Who did this?!" she screamed, her voice hoarse and cracking. "Show yourself! You cowards—come out! Do you know who I am?!"
Her curses spilled one after another, venomous and frantic, filling the hollow space of the abandoned building. The blindfold pressed tightly against her eyes, cutting her off from everything except the echo of her own fear and the distant sound of breathing that wasn't hers.
She spat out threats like weapons.
"My family will destroy you! My father will hunt you down! You'll regret touching me—every single one of you!"
The men surrounding her said nothing.
They only stood there—silent, unmoved.
Then, a subtle motion.
Someone lifted a hand.
At once, the burly men stepped back.
Clariss heard it—the unmistakable sound of boots shifting, footsteps retreating. One by one. Further. Further.
"No—wait!" Clariss panicked.
Her breathing became erratic.
"Don't leave me here!" she screamed, her composure finally shattering. "Please! I'll pay you—double, triple! I swear! Just don't leave me alone here!"
Her voice cracked completely, dissolving into sobs.
She thrashed against the chair, the ropes cutting deeper into her skin. The darkness behind the blindfold felt suffocating now—no sound, no movement, no sense of direction.
Only silence.
And then—
A single pair of footsteps remained.
Slow.
Measured.
Heavy with intent.
Clariss froze.
Her sobs quieted into broken breaths.
Someone was still there.
A presence so still, so controlled, that it terrified her more than all the shouting men before.
Then—
A voice.
Cold.
Low.
Unshaken.
"I warned you."
Clariss gasped.
The words weren't loud—but they struck like ice.
"I told you not to touch her," the voice continued evenly. "But you didn't listen."
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.
That voice—
She knew it.
"No… no, that's not possible," Clariss whispered, shaking her head. "You're just—"
The voice didn't answer.
Instead, it continued—unhurried, merciless.
Earlier That Evening
The parking area beneath Navarro Corporation was dimly lit, shadows stretching long between concrete pillars.
Clariss had watched from afar, her lips curling into a thin, satisfied smile.
Everything was ready.
Four men—paid generously—waited near the exit where Amara usually passed through after work. Instructions had been clear. No witnesses. No noise. Humiliation first. Fear second.
Clariss told herself she wasn't cruel.
She was just reclaiming what was hers.
But what she didn't know—
Was that Damian already knew.
Long before Clariss even made the call, Damian had sensed the shift. The whispers. The stares. The sudden confidence in her cruelty.
So he prepared.
Quietly.
He assigned his shadow guards—the ones even Navarro Corporation didn't know existed—to Amara the moment Clariss crossed the line.
They were already there when Clariss' men arrived.
Watching.
Waiting.
The moment the four men stepped too close, they were surrounded.
Taken.
Removed so cleanly that not a single camera caught the moment.
Amara walked to Damian's car that evening, completely unaware.
She went home safely.
While Clariss—
Walked straight into the trap meant for someone else.
Back to the Present
Clariss' breath hitched violently as realization slammed into her.
"That warning…" she whispered. "The only person who warned me was—"
The blindfold was ripped away.
Light flooded her vision painfully.
She blinked rapidly, tears blurring her sight as her eyes struggled to adjust.
Then—
She saw him.
Damian.
Standing in front of her.
Calm.
Composed.
His suit immaculate.
His eyes—
Completely devoid of warmth.
Clariss screamed.
"You?!"
Her body strained forward instinctively.
"You did this?!" she shrieked. "Are you insane?! Do you know what you've done?!"
Her voice turned sharp, hysterical.
"My father will kill you! My family—my family is powerful! You're nothing but an employee! A nobody working under Kael Navarro!"
Damian tilted his head slightly.
Almost… amused.
He let out a soft, humourless breath.
"If I wanted to bury your entire family," he said calmly, "I could do it before sunrise. And it would look like an accident."
Clariss froze.
Her blood ran cold.
He stepped closer.
"The Moonveil family," Damian continued, voice dangerously even, "is insignificant compared to the Sinclair Group."
Her eyes widened.
"…What?"
Damian straightened fully.
"I am Damian Sinclair," he said flatly. "Heir to the Sinclair Group."
Clariss burst into laughter—sharp, broken, disbelieving.
"You're lying!" she cried. "That's impossible! If you were a Sinclair, you wouldn't be working under Kael! The Sinclair Group owns half the industries in this country—globally!"
Damian didn't flinch.
"I don't care whether you believe me," he replied.
He leaned down slightly, eyes level with hers.
"I didn't come here to prove who I am."
Her laughter died instantly.
"I came here," he said softly, "because you tried to hurt the woman I care about."
Clariss' face drained of colour.
"You wanted her humiliated," Damian continued. "Terrified. Powerless."
His voice dropped lower.
"So now, you get to experience consequence."
He straightened and gestured toward the door.
The men outside didn't return.
No violence followed.
No chaos.
Only certainty.
"You will be released," Damian said. "Alive."
Her eyes flickered with hope—
Which he crushed immediately.
"But everything you tried to do," he added coldly, "will return to you."
Clariss shook violently.
"You—You can't—"
"Yes I can," Damian said.
He turned away.
As he walked out, his voice echoed back to her—final, absolute.
"This is mercy. Don't mistake it for weakness."
The door closed.
And Clariss was left alone—
Not broken by pain.
But shattered by the realization that she had picked the wrong enemy.
And somewhere far away—
Amara slept peacefully.
Unaware of just how close the darkness had come.