Chapter 353: I Hate the Lockwoods, but Unfortunately, I Love One

"It’s not like you were the perfect roommate either, Sunshine. You once used my expensive coffee machine to heat milk for instant noodles."

"It was an emergency!"

"We had a saucepan."

"I didn’t know where you kept them!" I looked at Isabella. "You see what I’ve had to endure? Trust me, you don’t want this."

She gave a small laugh, and Damien’s expression softened as he watched me, the familiar warmth in his eyes making my chest tighten unexpectedly.

"We argued constantly...we still do by the way," he continued, "but somewhere along the way, he became the person I wanted to tell everything to. Oliver was the first person who treated me like a person rather than just the Lockwood heir, someone who could disagree with me without considering what my family name meant or what I could do for him."

He paused, his thumb moving absently along the back of my chair.

"He didn’t care that I was a Lockwood. In fact, he seemed to consider it a personal invitation to insult me whenever the opportunity presented itself."

"Because you made it very easy."

"Naturally."

The small smile on Damien’s face lingered for another moment before his expression grew serious again.

"We fell in love, and for the first time, I had something that mattered to me independently of my family and the company. My parents didn’t approve of course, and they made it clear that they were prepared to use whatever influence they had to separate us."

Isabella’s fingers tightened around her fork.

"Your parents told me they were concerned about your future," she said. "They said you needed someone who understood your responsibilities, someone who could stand beside you without distracting you from the company or ruining your family’s reputation.."

I almost choked on my water.

"That’s a remarkably polished way of saying they wanted someone rich as hell and not a man."

"Oliver," Damien murmured, although the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested he wasn’t particularly offended.

"What? I’m being truthful! I haven’t even mentioned the part where they thought my existence was a threat to the family legacy and tried to buy me off! Fucking Lockwoods, I hate them so much."

Isabella looked between us, her expression becoming increasingly troubled.

"They told me you had separated with someone because the relationship wasn’t working and you were still upset about it I should just be patient with you and you’ll come around at some point."

Damien’s hand stilled against my chair.

"They lied."

The words were delivered without anger or hesitation, which somehow made them more powerful than any furious speech could have been.

"My parents threatened Oliver’s future and used his father’s medical treatment as leverage. They knew exactly how much Oliver’s father’s health mattered to him, and they made it clear that remaining with me would come at a cost Oliver couldn’t afford."

The warmth in the room seemed to drain away.

I lowered my eyes to my plate, suddenly remembering the helplessness of those years, the hospital bills, the fear that I might lose Dad who was still in coma while struggling to understand why the man I loved had disappeared from my life.

Even now, after everything Damien had done to explain himself, the memories could still find the tenderest parts of me with humiliating precision.

"What was supposed to be one year apart became four," Damien continued, his voice quieter. "For the first two years, I held the title of CEO without having full control of the company. My father retained the authority to interfere with decisions that mattered, and I couldn’t guarantee that I could protect Oliver at the time from the consequences of my choices."

His expression held none of the usual composure he wore in business meetings, and the sight of that unguarded regret made it difficult to maintain the defensive humour that had become my favourite form of self-preservation.

"I hurt you, Oliver," he said. "I let you believe that you weren’t worth staying for, and I took years from us that neither of us will ever get back. I cannot change what I did, and I won’t pretend that loving you makes the damage disappear. But the moment I secured real control of the company, I went back for you because I had never stopped loving you, not for a single day."

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

There had been a time when I would have given almost anything to hear those words, when I had replayed our last conversations until I could no longer distinguish the memories from the things I wished I had said.

Hearing him acknowledge the damage without asking me to pretend it hadn’t happened meant more than I could explain, especially with Isabella sitting across from us, witnessing a part of our history that had never belonged to her.

I reached beneath the table and briefly squeezed Damien’s hand.

"I know," I said quietly.

His fingers closed around mine before he turned back to Isabella.

"I’m sorry for the position you’ve been placed in, and I’m sorry I didn’t shut this arrangement down sooner. I should have made it clear to our families that there was no possibility of this marriage happening, regardless of what they wanted."

Isabella swallowed, her eyes fixed on him.

"But you could have tried," she said. "You could have met me properly, given me a chance, and perhaps things might have been different."

"I could have met you, yes, and I should have been more direct about the arrangement," Damien replied. "But I would never have fallen in love with you, Isabella, and I won’t lie to you by suggesting otherwise."

Her face tightened.

"You can’t possibly know that."

"I do."

"Affection can grow. People change, and marriages aren’t always about falling in love before they begin."

"Perhaps," Damien acknowledged. "But here’s the thing, Isabella. I’m gay, I’m not bisexual and I already know whom I love, and I have no intention of asking you to spend years waiting for me to become someone I’m not."

She stared at him, her expression shifting from disbelief to anger as she struggled to find a way around the answer.

"What about our families? Do you have any idea what they’ll say when the arrangement falls apart? The press will turn this into a fucking scandal, and my parents will have to explain why their daughter couldn’t secure a marriage to one of the most powerful men in the country!"

"I’ve considered all of that."

"Then you should understand why this isn’t as simple as saying no!"

"I’m not saying it’s simple. I’m saying that it is final."

He didn’t raise his voice or lean forward threateningly, and he made no attempt to use his position to intimidate her.

He simply looked at her with the steady certainty of a man who had finally stopped allowing other people to negotiate the terms of his life.

"I will not marry you, Isabella. I feel nothing romantic or sexual for you, and that will not change. You deserve a husband who chooses you because he wants to build a life with you, not because his parents have decided that your family names look good beside each other."

For several seconds, she sat completely still, and I watched the last of her resistance give way beneath the weight of a truth she could no longer pretend not to understand.

She had spent a year hoping Damien would notice her, then another stretch of time imagining that an arranged marriage would give her the opportunity to win his affection.

Now she was being asked to let go of a future she had never truly been offered, and I couldn’t imagine how humiliating it must feel to realize that the man you wanted had already given his heart to someone else.

Isabella looked down at her plate, where most of her dinner remained untouched.

"I hate this," she whispered.

"I understand," Damien replied.

"No, I don’t think you do, Lockwood." She let out a tired breath, brushing a strand of ginger hair away from her face. "I’ve spent months imagining what my life would look like as your wife, and now I’m sitting in your home, having dinner with the man you actually love while you explain why I never stood a chance!"

I winced. "When you put it like that, it does sound really terrible."

She gave me a look that might have been offended if she hadn’t seemed so exhausted.

"You’re not helping."

"I’m aware. It’s a terrible habit."

To my surprise, she laughed softly, though the sound faded into a sigh as she leaned back in her chair.

"Fine," she said at last. "The arrangement is over or whatever."

Damien nodded once, accepting her decision without triumph or visible relief.

Thank fuck! Finally!