Chapter 5 Secret Deals and Betrayals

Eleven o'clock found me pacing my bedroom, debating whether to meet Damien. The rational part of me recognized the danger—he was Emily's fiancé, my grandfather's chosen successor. Meeting him alone at night was playing with fire.

Yet I couldn't forget the almost-kiss in the car, the way he'd supported me at the board meeting, his insistence that things weren't what they seemed. Against my better judgment, I slipped out of my room at five minutes to eleven, navigating the darkened hallways with quiet determination.

The rose garden was one of the few places on the estate I actually remembered from childhood—a walled sanctuary filled with prize-winning blooms that my father had cultivated. In the moonlight, the flowers appeared silver and black, their fragrance intensified by the night air.

Damien was already there, his tall figure silhouetted against an ancient stone bench. He turned at the sound of my footsteps, relief evident in his expression.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," he said softly.

"Neither was I," I admitted, keeping a careful distance between us. "Congratulations again on your engagement."

He winced. "Vivian—"

"No," I interrupted, "let me finish. Whatever game you're playing—supporting me publicly while privately planning a future with Emily—I won't be a pawn in it. If you asked me here to—"

"I didn't know about the announcement," he cut in, his voice low but intense. "Emily orchestrated that without telling me. She moved up the timeline after seeing us together yesterday."

"The massive diamond on her finger suggests you were at least somewhat aware of an engagement," I pointed out.

Damien ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident. "It's complicated. My relationship with Emily is... not what it appears."

"Then explain it to me," I challenged. "Because from where I'm standing, you're my sister's fiancé who's sending very mixed signals."

He glanced around, ensuring we were truly alone. "Not here. We need somewhere we can't be overheard."

My pulse quickened as he took my hand, leading me deeper into the garden toward a small stone structure I vaguely remembered—my father's greenhouse, where he'd experimented with rare botanical specimens.

Inside, moonlight filtered through glass walls, casting ethereal shadows across dormant workbenches. The air was warm and earthy, untouched by the evening chill.

"No one comes here anymore," Damien explained, closing the door behind us. "Your grandfather couldn't bear to after your father died, and Emily has no interest in botany."

I trailed my fingers along a dusty workbench. "I remember this place. Father used to let me help water the seedlings."

Damien's expression softened. "Alexander loved this greenhouse. Said his best thinking happened here."

"You knew my father?" I asked, surprised.

"I was just an intern when he died, but yes, I knew him. He was brilliant, visionary—everything Charles pretends to be but isn't."

The bitterness in his tone caught me off guard. "If you hold my grandfather in such low regard, why are you his right hand? Why marry Emily?"

Damien moved closer, his expression intense. "Because someone needs to be on the inside to uncover what really happened to your father."

The statement hung between us like a physical presence. My heart began to pound. "What are you saying?"

"Your father's death wasn't an accident, Vivian. I've suspected it for years, but I needed access to prove it—access only Charles's protégé would have."

I felt lightheaded suddenly, gripping the workbench for support. "That's... that's a serious accusation."

"I know." His eyes never left mine. "It's why your mother took you and ran. She knew too."

The greenhouse seemed to spin around me as fifteen years of questions suddenly crystallized into horrifying possibility. "If what you're saying is true, why align yourself with Emily? Why not just go to the authorities?"

"Suspicion isn't proof. I needed to get close enough to find evidence. Emily was... my access point."

"So you've been using her?" Despite everything, I felt a flicker of sympathy for my sister.

"It wasn't like that in the beginning," he admitted. "Emily and I were genuinely close once. But over time, I saw who she really is—Charles's perfect protégé, willing to do anything to secure her position."

"Including getting rid of me," I murmured, pieces falling into place.

"Emily was ten when you left," Damien continued. "Old enough to understand she was being positioned as the sole Hart heir. Your return threatens everything she's built her identity around."

I processed this information slowly, implications unfurling like the night-blooming flowers around us. "Why tell me this now? Why risk everything?"

Damien stepped closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. "Because when I saw you that first night, something changed. The mission became personal." His hand rose to brush a strand of hair from my face. "And after yesterday, I couldn't keep pretending."

My breath caught at his touch. "Pretending what?"

"That I don't feel something for you. Something real."

The confession hung between us, dangerous and exhilarating. I knew I should step back, maintain perspective, remember my purpose here—but when his fingers traced the line of my jaw, rational thought scattered like leaves in wind.

"This is insane," I whispered. "You're engaged to my sister."

"An engagement I intend to break once I have what I need." His eyes searched mine. "Help me, Vivian. Help me find the truth about your father's death."

Before I could respond, a sound outside the greenhouse froze us both—footsteps on the garden path. Damien quickly pulled me behind a large planter just as the greenhouse door creaked open.

Emily's voice drifted through the darkness. "Damien? Are you in here?"

We remained perfectly still, barely breathing. My heart hammered so loudly I feared she might hear it. After what seemed an eternity, the door closed, footsteps retreating back toward the house.

"She followed you," I whispered once it seemed safe.

"Or you," he countered. "Either way, we need to be more careful." He checked his watch. "I have a breakfast meeting with Emily and the Tokyo investors tomorrow. There's something happening with that deal that doesn't add up."

"What do you mean?"

"The Japanese pharmaceutical company they're negotiating with—Takeda Biomedical—something's off about their financials. I've been trying to get a look at the complete proposal, but Emily keeps certain documents restricted, even from me."

An idea formed in my mind. "The board meeting next week—would those documents be available then?"

"Possibly, but Emily would notice if you showed too much interest." He thought for a moment. "There's a digital copy on the company server, but you'd need access to Charles's private system."

"Let me worry about that," I said, thinking of Sophie. "What exactly am I looking for?"

"Anything unusual about the ownership structure of Takeda. Subsidiary companies, offshore accounts." He hesitated. "If my suspicions are correct, the company may have connections to the same people involved in your father's death."

The greenhouse suddenly felt colder. "You think my grandfather is doing business with my father's killers?"

"I think Charles will do business with anyone who serves his interests." Damien's expression hardened. "Including allowing his daughter to marry a man who's been investigating him for years."

A terrifying thought occurred to me. "If he ever discovers what you're doing..."

"It won't be pleasant," Damien acknowledged grimly. "For either of us."

We stood in silence, the magnitude of what we were contemplating settling between us like a physical weight. Damien's hand found mine in the darkness, his fingers intertwining with my own.

"We should return to the house separately," he said finally. "I'll go first. Wait ten minutes before following."

I nodded, but as he turned to leave, I caught his arm. "Damien. If what you're saying about my father is true—if my grandfather is involved—I want to know everything. No more secrets."

His eyes met mine, intensity burning in their depths. "No more secrets," he agreed.

Then, before I could react, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine—a brief, fierce kiss that left me breathless. "Be careful," he whispered against my mouth before pulling away and disappearing into the darkness.

I remained in the greenhouse, fingers pressed to my lips, mind racing with revelations. If Damien was telling the truth, everything I thought I knew about my family was a lie. My father hadn't died accidentally. My grandfather wasn't merely cold but potentially murderous. And Emily—was she a knowing participant or another pawn?

Ten minutes later, I carefully made my way back to the house, hyperaware of every shadow. As I passed the library, voices caught my attention—Emily and Charles, their tones urgent despite the late hour. Instinct made me pause, pressing closer to the partially open door.

"—can't trust her," Emily was saying. "She's already interfering with the board, and now she's trying to manipulate Damien."

"Calm yourself," Charles replied dismissively. "Vivian is a minor inconvenience, nothing more. Once the Takeda deal closes, our position will be unassailable."

"But what if she discovers—"

"She won't," Charles cut in sharply. "Unless your fiancé has been sharing information he shouldn't."

A pause. "What are you implying?"

"I've noticed how he looks at her. History repeating itself—another Hart woman bewitching a man who should know better."

Emily's voice turned venomous. "Damien is committed to me, to us. He understands what's at stake."

"See that he remembers it," Charles said coldly. "We're too close to completion to allow distractions. The Tokyo meeting tomorrow is crucial."

"I've handled everything exactly as planned," Emily assured him. "The documents are prepared with the... modifications we discussed."

"Good. And your sister?"

"Leave Vivian to me," Emily replied, her tone sending chills down my spine. "I know exactly how to handle her."

I backed away silently, heart pounding. Whatever was happening with the Tokyo deal, it was central to their plans—and potentially connected to my father's death. I needed to warn Damien, but how? He'd be with Emily all day tomorrow.

As I slipped back into my room, I found a text message from an unknown number on my phone: "Meet me at Hart Pharmaceuticals lab tomorrow, 2pm. Need to talk. —Sophie"

Perfect timing. Sophie might be exactly the ally I needed to access those restricted files. As I prepared for bed, my mind raced with possibilities and dangers. The game had changed—it was no longer just about reclaiming my birthright, but potentially exposing a murder and corporate conspiracy.

And then there was Damien—engaged to my sister while kissing me in moonlit greenhouses, professing to be investigating my grandfather while serving as his right hand. Could I trust him? Or was I falling into an elaborate trap?

As sleep finally claimed me, one certainty remained—I was playing a far more dangerous game than I'd initially imagined, and the stakes weren't just my inheritance, but potentially my life.