Chapter 31: Young Master, I’m better than my sister.

The doorbell rang as Damon stepped into the bakery.

Claire still hadn’t moved from behind the glass counter. Her hands were rigid, her eyes wide as they darted frantically between his tailored charcoal suit and the Lamborghini resting against the curb outside her shop window.

"Damon?" her voice a faint whisper. She swallowed hard, her throat moving visibly. "What... what is this? Where did you get that car? Whose suit is that?"

He walked up to the counter. He stopped a foot away from her.

"You’re looking at Damon Thorne," he said, his tone flat and completely natural.

She blinked, her mind stumbling over the name. "Thorne? What are you talking about? Your name is Damon... you lived in that damp room down on 6th Street. You were barely paying rent."

"Because I chose to live like that," He said, his eyes locking onto hers. "Four years ago, my parents died. They left behind an estate, a private compound in the North District, and a name I didn’t want to carry at the time. I walked away from all of it. I came down here to live in the grey zone because I didn’t care about their money."

He paused, letting the lie settle into her mind without giving her room to trace its edges.

"My family’s old butler, Thomas, spent four years tracking me down," He continued. "He found me last week. The legal holds were lifted, the accounts were cleared, and I went home yesterday to take back what belongs to me."

Claire stared at him, her chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. The explanation was clean and answered every impossible question hanging in the air. It explained why a man with his overwhelming presence had been sitting in a cheap diner, why he moved with such confidence.

"A family estate..." She murmured, her fingers tightening around the edge of the wooden counter. "You... you were a wealthy heir the whole time?"

"I was nothing until I decided to take it," He corrected plainly.

He reached across the counter, his fingers wrapping firmly around her chin, forcing her face up until her trembling eyes met his gaze.

"What does this mean?" She asked softly, her breath catching as his thumb stroked the side of her jaw. "What does this mean for us, Damon? Are you... are you just going to leave for the North District now?"

"It means you’re my woman now," He said.

Her cheeks flushed a sudden crimson. "Damon—"

"I don’t care about a small bakery on 4th Street," He cut in smoothly, his grip on her jaw tightening just enough to command her focus. "And I don’t intend to let my woman struggle to pay flour suppliers or worry about monthly rent. If you want to keep baking, keep baking. But you won’t do it like a peasant hiding in a corner."

Claire pulled back slightly, her pride flaring through the sudden haze of shock. "I want to build my own business, Damon. I worked three years to buy these ovens. I don’t want someone just handing me a life I didn’t earn."

"I’m not taking your dream away," Damon said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at her. "I’m taking the ceiling off it. You want a bigger kitchen? Buy the building next door. You want three locations across the district? Hire managers. You build the brand, you manage the recipes, and you run the business. I provide the capital."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping into a whisper beside her ear.

"You gave me your support when I was sitting in a dark room with nothing in my pockets," He said. "Now you have me. So stop thinking like you’re alone on this street. If you’re going to be my woman, you live like my woman."

A chaotic surge of emotion hit Claire straight in the chest. It wasn’t the sweet, romantic gesture a normal girl might dream of, but the possessiveness in his voice made her stomach flip.

"Okay," She whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she looked into his eyes. "Okay... I’ll expand."

Before Damon could answer, the front door chime chimed loudly.

"Claire! I brought the extra linen napkins.."

Lily stopped dead in her tracks two steps past the threshold. Her laundry bag slipped from her shoulder, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

Her eyes immediately took in the scene: the black Lamborghini’s idle rumble vibrating through the glass outside, Damon standing tall in his tailored suit, and Claire flushed red, holding his hand over the counter.

She didn’t panic. Instead, a brilliant, mischievous grin split her face.

"Well, well, well," Lily cooed, stepping further into the bakery with quick steps. "What do we have here?"

"Lily, put the bag down," Claire said frantically, turning around and trying to smooth her hair with both hands. "This is... this is Damon."

"I know who Damon is," Lily said, stepping right up to the counter and looking Damon up and down with shameless curiosity. Her eyes lingered on his broad shoulders, the expensive cut of his suit, and then flicked out the window to the broad hood of the supercar. "Though last time I checked, Damon didn’t look like a tycoon driving a rocket ship."

"He’s... his family name is Thorne," Claire stammered, her face burning hotter. "He just came back into his inheritance."

"Thorne, huh?" Lily purred. She looked up at Damon, her eyes sparkling with playful interest. "So my sister has been hiding a billionaire young master in her back pocket this whole time? Sister, you really know how to keep a secret."

"Lily, stop it!" Claire snapped, reaching over to swat her shoulder, but Lily easily dodged, laughing aloud.

Lily straightened up, stepping around the counter until she stood just a few inches from Damon. She tilted her head, looking directly into Damon’s eyes, and gave him a small wink.

"If you ever get tired of her talking about flour ratios, Young Master Thorne," Lily whispered with a wicked little smile, "you know where to find me."

"Lily!" Claire gasped, her voice reaching a high pitch as she grabbed her sister’s arm and yanked her back. "Go into the back office right now! Wash the mixing trays!"

Lily giggled, letting herself be pulled away without any resistance. She looked back over her shoulder at Damon, her tongue clicking lightly behind her teeth as she gave him one last long look before disappearing through the storage curtain.

Damon watched her leave, his expression completely unreadable.

He filed the girl’s shameless ambition away into his mind. Lily was fast, greedy, and utterly devoid of her sister’s stubborn moral boundaries. Interesting.

He turned his attention back to Claire.

"Come upstairs," He ordered softly.

Claire’s breath caught in her throat. She looked at the closed door leading to her private apartment on the second floor, then back at Damon. She knew exactly what he wanted, and after the overwhelming revelation of the last ten minutes, her body was already warm, her heart hammering against her ribs.

"Now?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Now," He repeated, grabbing her wrist and turning her toward the staircase.

From behind the storage room curtain, Lily peeked out, watching them walk toward the private stairs. As Damon reached the bottom step, he caught her reflection in the hallway mirror. Lily held her fingers up, making a small, playful heart gesture with her thumbs before slipping back into the darkness of the kitchen with a soft laugh.

Damon led Claire up the stairs, the door clicking shut firmly behind them.