Chapter 362 ...So Bullying His Father Turns Him On?

"Well...anyways." I muttered, flexing my fingers in irritation, "that was a pleasant family reunion. Next time, let’s hold it somewhere with an emergency exit."

Damien turned to me. While his mouth curved up slightly, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

His face had adopted that familiar, calm stillness that typically meant he was wrestling with something uncomfortable and decided that the rest of us didn’t need to know the details.

"Come here, Sunshine."

"I am here."

"Oliver."

"Fine, fine, I’m coming. No need to summon me like a disgruntled king calling for his executioner."

Before I could continue my justified rant, he took my hands, wrapping his fingers around mine and gently rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles.

His hands were warm, holding steady without being too tight, guiding me to the sofa as if he knew I needed a place to sit before my legs decided to join my trembling fingers in rebellion.

He settled me against the cushions. When he sat next to me, he kept holding my hands, pulling them into his lap while the city glittered outside the windows.

For a while, we just sat in silence.

It was odd how normal everything looked outside. Cars cruised along the streets below. Office lights twinkled from afar.

Somewhere out there, people were likely bickering over dinner plans or complaining about traffic, completely oblivious to the fact that the Lockwood family had just attempted to turn our living room into a war zone.

I watched Damien’s thumb glide over the back of my hand, tracing the same little path again and again, and I slowly realized that my fingers had stopped trembling.

I hadn’t even noticed when that happened.

"Your stupid ass father," I finally said, because I’ve never been good with silence, "is a prime example of what happens when a guy has too much money and not nearly enough time learning how to treat other people."

Damien let out a breath that might have been a laugh in a different context.

"That’s one way to put it."

"I was being nice! I had a whole bunch of other descriptions ready, but I thought we should keep it family-friendly."

"Family-friendly?"

"Right! I was going to call him a walking case study in narcissism, but then I remembered I teach psychology. Don’t want my students diagnosing based on personal grudges."

This got a genuine if quick smile out of Damien, and I felt a bit of relief at the amusement I could coax from him.

But then his expression shifted again, and he faced me more directly.

"Listen, Oliver, you need to get this," he said quietly. "Not a single thing they said about you was true, and I really don’t want you sitting here tonight wondering if any of it might have been valid."

I opened my mouth to argue that I was perfectly capable of recognizing an insult without spiraling into an identity crisis, but the seriousness in his eyes made me hesitate.

"They weren’t questioning your worth," he continued, his voice low and steady. "They were trying to exert control. They couldn’t control my choices anymore, so they attempted to make you feel like you were the issue, which is what they’ve always done when things don’t go their way."

His grip around my hands tightened as the coldness settled into his eyes.

"They threatened your career. They twisted your father’s treatment against me and made me think that the only way to keep you safe was to vanish from your life. For years, I let them make me believe that losing you was the price I had to pay to protect you, and I will never forgive them for that."

The words came out softly, but there was an undercurrent making my chest tighten. I had heard Damien talk about his parents’ choices before, yet seeing him beside me, still holding my hands like he needed to feel that contact as much as I did, made his anger feel more immediate than ever.

"I know," I whispered.

"No, Sunshine, you don’t get how much I despise what they did to us." His jaw tightened as his blue gaze shifted toward the windows.

For a moment, the man he had grown into during our time apart flashed in my mind, someone who had learned to push every vulnerable feeling down under discipline and ambition because he thought showing weakness was ammunition for others.

"Part of me wants them to experience every bit of what they made us feel. I want them to pay for it. I want my dad to grasp what it’s like to lose something he thinks is his, and I want my mom to see that all her meticulous planning did was make me hate the life she tried to choose for me."

He fell quiet, his expression hardening as his words settled between us.

"I could make things really difficult for them," he finally admitted. "Professionally, financially, socially. I have the power now, and I know exactly their weak spots. Sometimes I think about using every advantage I have just because I can."

I studied his face, seeing the anger that had been building for years, the resentment locked away while he tried to become the kind of man his parents could no longer control.

Then I lifted my hands from his lap and cupped his face, gently turning him toward me.

"Damien, look at me."

His eyes locked onto mine.

"Your parents are two intensely unpleasant people who have spent so long believing money can fix everything that they’ve forgotten how to behave like decent human beings," I told him.

"They aren’t worth sacrificing your peace over, and they definitely aren’t worth turning yourself into someone you don’t want to be just to show you’re more powerful than they are."

His expression stayed serious, but I brushed my thumbs across his cheeks, refusing to let him retreat back into that cold distance he learned to hide behind.

"You don’t have to forgive them, and I’m not suggesting you invite them for tea and biscuits. I’d rather eat in the toilet. But don’t let them fool you into thinking the only way to win is to hurt them back."

A faint crease appeared between his brows.

"But they hurt you."

"They did," I agreed, my voice softening. "And I won’t pretend I wasn’t scared of them four years ago, because I was. I was terrified of losing Dad, scared of my future, and scared that the person I loved would decide that I wasn’t worth sticking around for. But I made it through, Damien, and I don’t want to live my life letting those people dictate how much space they take up in my head."

I leaned in closer until our foreheads touched, keeping my hands on his face.

"I have you now. We have our home, our lives, and the freedom to choose what happens next. I’d much rather focus on enjoying that than plotting a thousand ways to make your father miserable...although I’d fucking love that."

Damien closed his eyes and let out a slow breath that warmed my cheek.

"You’re asking me to be the bigger person."

"Not at all. I’m asking you to be the happier person because I have no interest in dating a constantly furious billionaire! Your present personality is already enough work."

A quiet laugh escaped him, and I smiled when his arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until I was almost sitting on him.

"You’re crazy," he murmured.

"And yet you keep picking me. It raises serious questions about your judgment."

"I’ve never doubted my judgment when it comes to you."

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. Before I could throw out a sarcastic quip to shield myself from the warmth spreading through my chest, Damien lifted a hand to the back of my neck, his fingers settling there with familiar gentleness.

"I enjoyed watching you stand up to them," he admitted.

I blinked, caught off guard. "You did?"

"Absolutely."

"Even when I insulted your father?"

"Especially then."

I stared at him for a moment before narrowing my eyes.

"Are you saying that watching me verbally abuse your parents was attractive to you?"

His smile returned, this time with enough warmth to make me suspicious.

"Watching you stand your ground against them was one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen."

"That’s quite a specific preference, Lockwood."

"I have a few."

"Should I be worried about the others?"

"Probably, since they all involve you naked."

I laughed, leaning in closer as he brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. But before I could make another joke, his expression softened again.

"I wish I had even half of your brutality when I was a teenager," he said. "Who knows? Maybe things would have been different if I had stood up to them more like you did today. Maybe I wouldn’t have spent so many years letting them call the shots for me."

My chest tightened.

I knew Damien had carried the weight of those years, but hearing him reflect on his younger self with such quiet regret made me want to reach back through time and find the boy who thought sacrificing his happiness was the way to protect the ones he loved.

I leaned forward and kissed him.

It was a slow, intentional kiss, one that urged him to stay with me in this moment instead of getting lost in painful possibilities from the past. When I pulled back, I kept my hands on his cheeks so he couldn’t look away.

"You don’t need to wish you were someone else," I whispered. "I love you, Damien. I love the man you are now, and I love the boy you were before you learned to hide what mattered to you. I hate what happened to us, but I don’t resent you for being scared, and I don’t want you to spend your life punishing yourself for choices you made when you thought you had no other options."