Chapter 341: When the Lockwood Heir Becomes the King

[Damien Lockwood]

By the fourth day after getting back to New Havenport, Damien Lockwood had reminded an entire building full of folks why it was a bad idea to be on his bad side.

Transitioning from mornings tangled up with Oliver in bed to being buried under contracts, financial reports, and boardroom politics had surprisingly gone smoothly.

He figured that had a lot to do with Oliver’s talent for making even the most mundane moments feel special even with his grumpy ass.

On the first morning, Damien had to sit through a long lecture on the dangers of skipping breakfast, delivered by a guy who had swiped half his toast and then complained that what was left was too small.

The next morning, Oliver wandered into the kitchen wearing one of Damien’s shirts, declared that the penthouse was way too big, and somehow got lost coming back from the bathroom.

Damien found him standing in front of the gym, clearly annoyed by the hallway.

"You’re the one who wanted to explore," he pointed out.

"I was examining the architectural stupidity of your house," Oliver shot back.

"You walked past the same painting three times," Damien reminded him.

"Maybe your paintings are just repetitive," Oliver quipped.

Damien had given his forehead a quick kiss before heading out to work, having learned that arguing with Oliver before breakfast was pointless; it just made him late and somehow gave Oliver the last word.

By day three, Damien was back to his old routine, and by the fourth, the Lockwood Empire was starting to remember what it was like to have a cold, intimidating CEO who wouldn’t put up with nonsense.

His office took up the top executive floor of the Lockwood Tower, this sleek building made of polished steel and dark glass that had a great view of New Havenport.

From his desk, he could see the river weaving through the city, the cars creeping along the elevated highways, and the smaller buildings that looked almost tiny against the sprawling skyline.

The view was appealing, not because he cared much for the scenery, but because it served as a reminder that a lot of the world can be viewed differently. From up here, even the biggest issues seemed manageable.

Unfortunately, the people responsible for those issues had a way of finding their way into his office.

"The board has signed off on the revised acquisition terms," Naomi Bennett told him, setting a neatly organized folder on his desk. "The legal team has made the changes you requested, and the other party’s representatives have agreed to the confidentiality terms."

Damien kept his eyes on the document. "Did they agree because they understood the terms, or did you explain what would happen if they didn’t?"

Naomi, who had been his personal assistant for almost three years and had built up quite a bit of immunity against his dry humor, clasped her hands in front of her.

"Let’s call it an educational experience," she replied.

"How generous of you," he said, smirking.

"I try to be a positive influence," she shot back. "Maybe you should start with the accounting team then."

"I would, sir, but I don’t think they’d want to know anything."

A flicker of a smile appeared at the corner of Damien’s mouth, though it vanished before it could turn into a full-on grin.

Most people in the company reacted to his rare humor as if they’d seen a solar eclipse, but Naomi had come to terms with the fact that her boss was just a tough man who sometimes remembered he had a sense of humor.

She was also one of the few he trusted to let him know when something was wrong without needing to build herself up for it.

"Anything else?" he asked her.

"The board members you met yesterday have confirmed they’ll be at Friday’s dinner. Mr. Harrington wants a private meeting before the week’s end, and your legal counsel wants to go over the documents about the Sommers family."

That got his full attention. "Have they prepped the revised terms?"

"Yes, they’re ready for your approval."

"Great. Schedule the meeting with Harrington for Thursday morning and have legal send me those revised terms before lunch," he directed.

"Got it," Naomi said, collecting the remaining papers. But she hesitated at the door. "Your mother called twice this morning."

Damien turned back to the acquisition report. "How persistent."

"She wanted me to tell you it was important."

"Everything is important when my mother wants something."

"Do you want me to say you’re unavailable as usual, sir?"

"No. If I do that, she’ll think I’m hiding from her, and she’ll keep calling until everybody in the building knows she’s been ignored. If she calls again, put her through."

Naomi nodded, looking satisfied with the order, and stepped out, leaving him to his work.

Once the door was closed, Damien leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to reflect on how efficiently his life had changed over the past few weeks.

His father had officially stepped down from his remaining executive duties, signing the final paperwork over to his son after months of negotiations.

The press had framed it as a dignified retirement, complete with well-chosen photos and a statement praising Damien’s leadership.

Meanwhile, his mother lost the political position she had taken years to build up, thanks to a series of financial disclosures and inconvenient truths that made it impossible for her to keep pretending her public image was as pristine as her wardrobe.

Neither of those changes had happened by chance though, Damien hadn’t needed to ruin his parents; he just had to make it so they couldn’t destroy him.

That was the real difference, although he doubted either of them saw it that way. For four years, his dad had held enough sway over the company to make every decision feel like a negotiation, while his mom had used her political ties to reinforce the idea that Damien’s future belonged to the family instead of himself.

Their control had been subtle enough to escape public scrutiny, but it had never gone unnoticed by him.

Every promotion came with expectations, every business alliance had unspoken strings attached, and every personal choice felt like a risk to the Lockwood legacy.

They thought that giving him the CEO title meant giving him responsibility without freedom. They were wrong. Now the shares were secure, the board was reminded about loyalty, and the company’s major partners were starting to focus on the man who’d actually be making the decisions.

Damien had spent the previous days meeting with executives, confirming deals, and quietly building relationships that his parents once thought were theirs.

He wasn’t interested in inheriting a kingdom that could vanish with a single phone call. He aimed to make himself untouchable.

His eyes drifted to the phone sitting next to his keyboard, and thoughts of Oliver disrupted his neatly laid plans and the photo on his screen was taken two evenings ago when Oliver had dozed off on the penthouse sofa with a book lying open on his chest.

He’d been wearing one of Damien’s sweaters, his light brown hair a messy halo, and his mouth slightly ajar in a way that would’ve shattered his dignity if he had any to speak of.

Damien had snapped the picture without waking him and saved it in a private folder secured with enough protections to put Naomi’s password requirements to shame.

It wasn’t an extraordinary photo, but it was his favorite. He studied it for a moment longer before locking the screen and returning to the documents on his desk.

There’d be time to admire Oliver later, ideally when Oliver was awake enough to complain about being admired and distracted enough to forget what he was upset about.

For now, there were more pressing matters. The arrangement with Isabella Sommers had stood for years as an informal agreement between two influential families, maintained by carefully staged appearances, flattering rumors, and the belief that Damien would eventually give in.

There had never been a real engagement, no vows exchanged or romantic promises made; the whole thing had been convenient for his parents, who cared more about a politically advantageous marriage than about the feelings of those involved.

Damien had never agreed to marry Isabella; he’d merely been forced to let others act as if the decision had already been made. That was about to change. His lawyers were drafting the paperwork to formally dissolve the understanding, and he’d instructed them to make the terms as clear and straightforward as possible.

The Sommers family would keep all the legitimate business benefits they negotiated outside of the arrangement, but there’d be no engagement announcement, no wedding, and no carefully crafted statement suggesting that the two families were still romantically connected.

He wouldn’t let Isabella be collateral damage in a conflict she hadn’t necessarily chosen; at the same time, he wouldn’t let her family use her name to keep him in check. Once that was sorted out, he’d begin preparing the company for Oliver’s eventual public introduction.

Not right away, and definitely not because the press had developed an unhealthy obsession with the identity of the mysterious person who’d returned to New Havenport with him.

Damien had no plans to let a bunch of photographers dictate the timing of a decision that would change Oliver’s life.

Oliver deserved to be properly introduced, not just tossed into the limelight as a rumor tied to Damien Lockwood’s name.

More importantly, he deserved protection from those who would think that hurting him was the easiest way to get to Damien.

Before he could dive deeper into that thought, the phone rang. His mother’s name lit up on the screen.

Damien paused for a moment, then answered with the calmness of someone who already knew what to expect.

"Mother."