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Damien

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Original title: Damien

Damien — Story illustration
Story cover artwork · AI-created artwork, not an official cover of the original work.

Damien Stryker is a ruthless billionaire, but when Serena Mclane is forced to marry him, she hopes to find the mercy behind his cold eyes and strong hands. ****** Damien Stryker, a domineering billionaire, is someone you don't want to get close to. Unfortunately for Serena Mclane, she doesn't have much of a choice. Always at the mercy of her family's name and legacy, Serena has to do as her father says. So when her father forces her into an arranged marriage with the one and only Damien Stryker: the truth comes out. Secrets are unveiled, and love starts to bloom. [[word count: 150,000-200,000 words]]

Original fiction. Characters and events are invented.

Edited by: Huangguo Drama · Updated:

Stories

### Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Serena Mclane's P. O. V

Taking in the content of the words displayed on my laptop screen, I quickly scan them one last time and then immediately exit out of the web browser.

I push away from my writing table and spin around in my swivel chair before stopping myself as I start to feel dizzy.

Somehow I never learn to stop.

I lay my head against the chair and let out a low groan.

What do I do now?

I'm so bored.

Stalking celebrities all day, unfortunately, does have its limits.

And by limits, I mean your mother coming into your room and catching you staring at pictures of a certain half naked model.

The slight ping of my phone going off makes me stand up and trudge over to my bed.

I reply to a few messages and ignore others, making sure not to click on certain areas so that the conversation doesn't open up.

Someone knocks on the door and opens it, pushing their head through.

Before even looking up from my phone, I know it isn't my mother because she would just barge in like always.

Smiling at the person in front of me, I immediately sit up as my sister makes her way through the door and into my bedroom.

"Hey Sarah." I greet as I take in the sight of my sister.

She stood there in all her 5'11–red headed–green eyed–model figure glory.

I still remember when I was younger, and everyone used to fawn over my sister and her beauty.

Hell, I nearly lost it when she got offers into the modelling industry but eh, I've made my peace with it.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Italy?" I ask as I make room for her to sit down.

Instead of taking a seat, she places her handbag down on the ground and then sprawls on the bed right next to me.

"Just felt like it. I missed mum and dad. Speaking of dad, where is he?" She muses.

"Out of country. He's landing soon, so he'll probably be back in a couple of hours." I answer.

Sarah nods her head in understanding and smiles at me.

"Has dad talked to you?" She asks.

I furrow my brow and shake my head.

"About what?" I ask in both curiosity and suspicion.

It had to be about me otherwise she wouldn't be giving me that–I know something you don't know–look.

"We'll see." She simply says, shrugging.

Instead of pestering her, I keep quiet, knowing she won't tell me a single thing.

********

"Girls!" My mother's voice shouts up at us.

"Coming!" I yell back down but still stay where I'm lying.

"Come on, lazy." Sarah says as she pats me on the shoulder and gets up.

"What have you even done all day that's made you so tired?" She asks in exasperation.

"I-I," I, stutter trying to come up with some amazing accomplishment but give up, knowing she won't believe me.

"I just am. I fell asleep late watching movies." I grumble.

She simply laughs and motions for me to follow her out the door.

Seeing mum standing next to the front door, we both head downstairs just in time to see our father stepping into the foyer, armed with suitcases.

"Dad!" I squeal and rush over to hug him.

He merely smiles and pats me on the back before noticing my sister, who is currently standing at the end of the stairs.

"Sarah!" He exclaims happily and quickly puts his bags down to go hug her.

Mum, currently standing beside me, squeezing my arm and smiles at me.

All I do is smile back.

I'm used to it by now.

Doesn't mean it stops hurting, though.

"You're just in time for dinner, honey." My mum says and quickly pecks him on the lips.

Sarah makes a weird face at that their affection as my mother leads him by the arm into the dining room.

**********

After dinner, Dad and Sarah go into his office to discuss some matters, leaving me alone with my mum to clean up the dishes.

"Have you talked to your father?" Mum speaks up, nudging me.

"What? No," I ask in exasperation, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Everyone?" My mother inquires sternly.

God forbid, anyone let anything slip regarding what is about me.

Unfortunately, my sarcasm only mares my subconscious and would never dare show itself to my mother.

I cringe at the thought of even speaking to her in that tone.

"Yes, Sarah said something about Dad meaning to speak with me."

"Oh, okay." My mother says, though I can still tell she isn't too fond of Sarah saying something to me.

"What exactly is this entire ordeal about?" I question innocently.

My mum gives me a look that tells me that sort of thing won't work.

"You'll see." Is all she says as she returns back to our task at hand.

We both continue to wash and dry the dishes in a comfortable silence as Sarah walks in.

"Serena. Dad wants to speak with you." She says and then disappears again.

The sight of doing anything remotely related to housework probably scares her off.

Though now I'm scared.

Well, not scared but more so nervous.

What could Dad want?

He barely even speaks to me as it is, only when it is regarding something important, or when I'm in trouble.

And I know I have done nothing which can lead to me getting a long lecture from him.

All these thoughts swirl in my head as I make my way to the study's door.

I knock on the door and tentatively open it, peaking my head through the hole to see my father sitting at his desk, looking at some papers.

He looks up and motions for me to enter.

I quickly do so and scramble to the seat across from him and sit down.

"You wanted to talk?" I ask timidly.

"Yes, Vivian."

Vivian?

Ah.

My father is the only one who uses my middle name and when he does it always means business.

More so than usual.

"So..." I say awkwardly, edging my father on to say what he has to.

I don't want to be here any longer than necessary.

"You've completed your degree, right?" He asks me rhetorically because he knows damn well I have.

"Yes." I say tersely, even nodding my head as my hands clench the bottom of my shirt, twisting it this way and that.

"And you know what comes after that right?" He asks.

Of course.

How can I be so stupid as to forget about this of all things?

He will never let this go.

All the arguments and fights I've put up, all for naught.

"The business," I mutter, "You want me to take up part of the company." I say almost robotically.

"Yes. I do. But that isn't what I wanted to talk to you about, although it is regarding the same area."

I pause as I let his words sink in.

I know for a fact that the next thing he says will be far worse than what I've heard so far.

I take in a deep breath though I know that no amount of preparation could save me from what he says next.

-----------

AN: Hi everyone! I'm so excited to start Damien's story. I hope you all liked the first chapter. I'm trying to ease into everything and I'll try to go back to my usual updating schedule which is a new chapter everyday.

I'd like to thank claudia_cephus for the amazing cover. Thank you so much love!

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### Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Serena Mclane's P. O. V

"What?" Is all I manage to get out as I sit there in my seat.

My fidgeting hands come to a halt as I now fist my t-shirt in a tight grip.

My mind is completely blank at the moment. I can't seem to be able to process his words.

"Dad," I finally manage to get out, "You can't mean that, you wouldn't." I whisper as I look at him for confirmation.

I want him to just start laughing, and then hug me and say it's all a big joke, that the entire ordeal was just that;

A big joke.

But no, of course not.

My father never jokes, not with me at least.

"You know I don't like repeating myself." My father says sternly as he looks at me.

Even though we're sitting face to face, it's as if he's looking down at me. As if he's judging me, finding all my faults and insecurities and displaying them right in front of me.

Taunting me with everything.

"B-but the business, father. You-I- you wanted me to take over the family business but I-. How?" I ask, finally giving up.

I barely have the ability to speak. The shock potent in my words.

"I told you, I do not repeat myself." He says standing up now, having to actually repeat himself.

"Well you're going to have to this time Dad!" I exclaim as I now too stand up.

The anger is as clear as day in his eyes as is in mine.

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