Twenty-four-year-old Damon was sitting on a bench in the park with a heavy heart. He had just visited his Father-in-law's grave to pay his last respects. Tomorrow, he’d sign the divorce papers. Three years of his life were gone—years spent trying to earn even the smallest glimmer of respect from the Lockwoods. But he had failed. To them, he wasn’t a husband; he was a shadow. He had married Lily from the Lockwood family, who had seen him as nothing more than a complete failure and a disgrace for the past three years. Throughout those three years of marriage he had lived with his wife's family, they had treated him as nothing more than a servant, working him mercilessly without giving him any reward for his hard work. By "hard work," Damon cooked, cleaned, mopped, vacuumed, arranged things, and did every possible chore. He would be halfway through serving dinner, and the Lockwoods wouldn’t so much as glance at him. They would laugh and talk over the clinking of their glasses as if

Damon woke up to the steady beeping of a machine. When he tried to move, a sharp pain shot through his ribs, making him wince. His head hurt as he struggled to remember what had happened. Where am I? he wondered, looking around. Slowly, it came back to him—the woman that had saved him must have brought him to the hospital. But where was she now? He noticed he was in a fancy VIP room, with elegant furniture and a view of the city skyline. It didn’t look like a regular hospital room. He reached for his pocket and froze. His phone, ID, and most of his things were missing. Did someone steal them? he thought with a sigh. Just then, the door creaked open, and a nurse stepped in. “You are awake!” the nurse said as she adjusted his IV drip and gave him a sympathetic look. “A young lady brought you in last night. She didn’t leave a name, but she seemed very worried about you. Do you remember what happened?” Damon clenched his jaw at the possibility that he might never see the wom

Chapter 5 Damon watched with his wide-eyed, as the hotel workers’ trembled and the tension in the air thickened. Damon slowly walked over to Vivan and whispered close enough for her to hear, “Forget about them. I’m used to this treatment anyway…” The woman named Vivan looked at him as she felt an ache in her heart. She could feel the bitterness and helplessness in Damon’s words, along with a subtle hint of his inferiority complex. The manager immediately rushed over, bowing his head in contrition. “Please, ma’am, we’re sorry. We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Vivan, still taken aback by the scene, straightened her posture and fixed her gaze on the trembling staff. “You should treat all guests with respect. No one deserves to be made to feel small,” she asserted. "Miss Bennett!" The manager came running towards the scence in tremble, "this is entirely our fault. I’ll discipline her in due time. Please accept our heartfelt apologies,” The manager pleaded sincerely be

The next day, the sun rose, casting a warm glow through the curtains. Damon turned and tossed on the bed, he had spent most of the night tossing and turning; he couldn't help but keep thinking about Vivan—the way she looked at him, her voice, her presence—they all made Damon blush. There was something about her—something he couldn’t quite pin down—and it left him feeling restless. He slowly rose from the king-sized bed in the suite. He needed to take a bath so he would look presentable at the very least. As he grabbed a towel, ready to enter the bathroom, he heard a knock on the door. He wondered who it could be and slowly walked over to open the door. When he opened it, a young man stood there holding a familiar black bag. “Your bag, sir. I was instructed by my boss to give it to you,” the man said in a curt tone. Damon's eyes lit up with joy. Vivan had remembered to deliver his bag—she indeed was a lifesaver. He quickly accepted it, murmuring a quick “Thanks” before closi

Damon paced around the room, feeling impatient. It had been hours since the scandal happened, and he worried about Vivan. The hurt in her eyes, her trembling lips—everything. She had come from a rich family, but one thing was sure and obvious to Damon: she didn’t exactly have a happy family. Damon wondered if she was fine as he paced around the room in worry. He glanced at his phone again and saw no missed calls or messages from Vivan. He knew there was a probability that Vivan could have gotten his phone number from his bag, and yet he saw no call. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Goddamn it. He was going to speak to her. He was going to make sure she was okay—the same way she had done for him. The argument with Klaus had been explosive, and Damon knew how deeply it had hurt her. Vivan had asked for space, but he couldn’t shake the image of her trembling lips and teary eyes. She had been there for him, supporting him. Now it was his turn. Stepping into the hote