The Billionaire's Lost Flame

“Katty… you know I love you.”

His voice trembled, raw and desperate.

Katherine stared at the marble floor of the Florence planetarium, her fingers digging painfully into the fabric of her trousers.

If she looked at him, if she saw his eyes.... she would break.

How could she tell him the truth?

That her father had found out.

That threats had been made and staying with him would do him more harm than good?

“I know,” she said instead, her voice flat. “You don’t need to keep saying it.”

The breeze drifted through the vast hall, stirring her hair. Butterflies fluttered lazily above them.

When she thought her heart was frozen solid, his arms suddenly wrapped around her, making her resolve crumble.

The scent of cedarwood surrounded her and she wished to lean into this warm, familiar feeling of safety.

“This isn’t you,” he whispered against her hair. “Someone’s forcing you, aren’t they? Just tell me and I’ll—”

“Enough!” she yelled, shrugging his hand off.

He stumbled back, shock etched across his face.

Tears slid down his cheeks, soaking into the worn shirt she had bought him. Her gaze trembled for a second as they fell on the faded jeans and scuffed shoes which she bought for him.

But she hardened instantly.

“Your love won’t change anything,” she said coldly. “I came here as a courtesy. Tomorrow is our convocation, and I don’t want this dragging me down.”

His shoulders fell weakly.

“We come from different worlds,” she continued, cruelty dripping from every word. “I was foolish to think we would work out. I deserve better.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes.

“And you,” she whispered, voice shaking despite herself, “are not it, Damien.”

She turned away.

“I won’t be with a beggar like you.”

*******

Ten years later

“…panic attack. She should be waking up anytime now, sir.”

Katherine gasped awake, the light burning her eyes as pain throbbed through her skull.

Not willing to wait further, she pushed herself upright, her heart racing.

“W-where am I?”

“Are you alright, miss—”

“She’s fine.”

His voice cut through the room like a blade, and her blood turned to ice.

“Leave.”

The room emptied instantly and she turned turned slowly to see her past staring back at her.

Damien Sullivan.

For the last ten years, she imagined how this moment would go when she met him again; it would be filled teary apologies and explanations and ultimately forgiveness.

But as she met his gaze, he looked nothing like the boy she loved years ago.

His broad shoulders strained beneath a perfectly tailored black suit. His face sharper, his eyes colder, and something about his presence pressed down on her chest like a weight.

Cedarwood still clung to him, but now it made her chest feel stuffy.

As the room emptied, he stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking against the floor.

“Katherine Anderson,” he said smoothly. “To what do I owe this reunion?”

Her legs trembled as she stood.

“I need to see the CEO of Turner Development,” she said, steadying herself. “It’s urgent.”

A flicker crossed his eyes at her statement, but it went too fast.

“You’re staff here, aren’t you?” she pressed. “Just take me to him. I’ll explain everything later.”

Damien said nothing, then the door opened.

“Mr. D,” a man said respectfully. “The demolition team is ready.”

Katherine’s blood ran cold, her eyes widening as his filled with a cruel glint.

He is... Mr. D?

Damien turned toward the window. “Proceed.”

Her breath shattered.

“But sir,” the man hesitated. “The owners are still inside.”

“Remove them.”

“Remove them?” Katherine rushed toward him. “They’ve been waiting all day just to speak to you!”

“They’re irrelevant.”

She looked through the floor to ceiling glass to see security drag the elderly couple away as their cries echoed through the site.

She grabbed Damien’s wrist. “Listen to me!”

He looked down at her hand, amused.

“You’re here to beg,” he said softly. “And I don’t entertain beggars.”

The wrecking ball slammed into stone and her heart broke with the sound.

“What will it take,” she demanded, fury replacing fear, “to leave my father’s museum alone?”

Damien laughed quietly.

“And what do you have to offer me, Katty?”

She stiffened at the nickname. “That is not—”.

He stepped closer, his fingers lifted her chin with a tight grip.

“Marry me.”

The words were soft but cruel and her palm connected with his face before she could stop herself.

“I would rather die.” she spat.

Damien didn’t flinch.

“Choice is a luxury,” he replied coolly. “You don’t have.”

“Like you have a choice?”

He walked away, lifting a glass of whiskey as if bored.

“You’re broke,” he said lazily. “And I paid far more than that building was worth.”

He glanced at his watch.

“You have until Friday noon to give me one hundred and fifty million.”

Her breath caught.

“Fail,” he continued calmly, “and the museum disappears.”

He turned, eyes dark and certain.

“Or,” he added, “you belong to me and all this disappears.”

Katherine lifted her chin, refusing to show fear.

“Then consider it done, Mr. Sullivan.”

His smile was slow, lethal. “I look forward to watching you try.”

“But no one will help you except me."