The scandal broke at dawn.
Elias woke to Damien's phone vibrating incessantly on the nightstand sharp, relentless, impossible to ignore. Damien reached for it with practiced calm, but Elias felt the shift immediately, the way Damien's body went still as his eyes scanned the screen.
"What is it?" Elias asked quietly.
Damien didn't answer right away. He set the phone down, then turned toward Elias, expression composed but eyes dark.
"Marcus has made his move."
Elias sat up. "How bad?"
Damien exhaled slowly. "Selective leaks. Photos taken from the summit. Nothing explicit but intimate enough to suggest more than professionalism."
Elias's chest tightened. "Us."
"Yes."
For a moment, the city outside felt unbearably loud. Elias ran a hand through his hair, grounding himself. "What happens now?"
Damien studied him not the headlines, not the consequences but him.
"Now," Damien said, "we decide whether to retreat or advance."
Elias didn't hesitate. "Advance."
A flicker of something like pride crossed Damien's face. He leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to Elias's temple warm, steady, reassuring.
"Good," Damien murmured. "Because retreat would only confirm weakness."
By midmorning, the media cycle was in full swing. Analysts debated ethics and optics. Commentators speculated on influence and favoritism. Names were carefully avoided but implications were not.
Damien took calls with surgical precision, issuing statements that acknowledged nothing while denying nothing either. Elias watched him work, struck by the elegance of it power not as aggression, but as control of narrative.
Still, the tension built.
By afternoon, a meeting request arrived from the board.
Elias knew what it meant before Damien said a word.
"They want reassurance," Elias said.
"They want separation," Damien corrected calmly.
Elias's jaw tightened. "And will they get it?"
Damien turned to him fully. "No."
The word landed like a vow.
The boardroom was all glass and restraint, a dozen faces arranged in polite concern. Damien stood at the head of the table, Elias seated beside him visible, intentional.
A murmur rippled through the room.
"This is highly unorthodox," one director said carefully.
"So is leaking private moments to gain leverage," Damien replied evenly. "Yet here we are."
Another voice joined in. "Your association with Mr. Kane creates perception risks."
Damien's gaze didn't waver. "Perception is managed through transparency, not erasure."
Elias felt the weight of every eye on him. He held it.
"This relationship," a third director said, "could compromise"
Damien cut him off gently. "My judgment has not faltered. Our performance metrics remain strong. Our partners remain invested."
Silence followed.
Then Damien did something unexpected.
"I will not be removing Elias from my life to appease speculation," he said calmly. "If that is unacceptable, you are free to reconsider my position."
The room went still.
Elias's breath caught not from fear, but from the magnitude of the choice Damien had just made.
The board didn't respond immediately. They wouldn't not today. Power rarely answered directly when challenged.
The meeting adjourned without resolution.
Outside the building, cameras waited. Questions flew.
Damien placed a hand at the small of Elias's back visible, unashamed and guided him forward.
"No comments at this time," Damien said calmly.
The gesture spoke louder than words.
Back at the penthouse, the adrenaline finally ebbed, leaving something raw behind. Elias closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling hard.
"You didn't have to do that," Elias said.
"Yes," Damien replied softly. "I did."
Elias crossed the room in two strides and kissed him fierce, grateful, unrestrained. Damien responded instantly, pulling him close, the kiss deepening with emotion sharpened by risk.
They broke apart only when breath demanded it.
"You chose me," Elias said, voice unsteady.
Damien cupped his face. "I chose us."
They moved to the bedroom as if drawn there, the tension between them transformed no longer secret, no longer cautious. Their kisses slowed, deepened, became deliberate.
This intimacy was different.
Not defiance.
Confirmation.
Damien laid Elias back gently, eyes searching his face. "Tell me if this is too much."
"It's not," Elias said immediately. "It's exactly enough."
Damien kissed him again unhurried, consuming hands exploring with familiar confidence. Elias responded fully, body arching into the contact, trusting without reservation.
They moved together with a practiced ease now, learning each other's rhythms, reading each other's breath. The world outside the board, the headlines, Marcus Vale faded to irrelevance.
In this space, there was only choice.
Only connection.
Afterward, they lay side by side, fingers intertwined, the city glowing dimly beyond the glass.
"What if this costs you everything?" Elias asked softly.
Damien turned toward him. "Then it will have cost me nothing."
Elias swallowed. "You're terrifying when you talk like that."
Damien smiled faintly. "I've been told."
A message arrived just before dusk.
Marcus Vale: You've made your position clear. This isn't over.
Damien deleted it without reply.
"Let him come," Damien said.
Elias studied him. "You're not afraid."
"I am," Damien replied honestly. "But fear doesn't decide my actions anymore."
Elias leaned in, resting his head against Damien's shoulder. "Neither does mine."
They stayed like that as night fell two silhouettes against the city, exposed and unyielding.
Whatever Marcus planned next would be sharper. Publicer. More dangerous.
But the line had been drawn.
And this time, Damien Blackwood was no longer standing alone at the center of it.