The following day, the air inside Damien's office was thick with tension.
Elise stood nearby as Damien spoke to his head of security, the words clipped, cold, efficient.
"I want every one of Caldwell's associates watched. Every phone call, every meeting, every deal I want eyes everywhere," Damien commanded.
"Yes, sir."
"No mistakes," Damien continued. "I don't care what it costs."
Elise added calmly, "We've already identified two of the men who tried to approach Mrs. Lancaster. They won't be a problem again."
Damien's jaw tightened.
"Good. Send a message to Caldwell. Subtle. But clear."
Elise nodded and left quietly.
That evening, the black car pulled up in front of the penthouse.
Damien stepped out first, scanning the entrance automatically before turning to Ariana.
He offered his hand. She hesitated for a moment but took it, allowing him to guide her out of the car.
The city lights reflected in her eyes, their glow unable to hide the weight she carried.
"Are you sure it's safe?" she finally asked, her voice low.
"You're home now," Damien answered simply.
"My home is the safest place you'll be."
There was an intensity in his voice that she couldn't quite define. Not tenderness. Not affection. But something fierce as if her safety was no longer just business.
As she stepped into the lobby, Ariana turned briefly.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Damien's gaze lingered on her for a second longer than necessary.
Without answering, he simply nodded, watching her disappear into the elevator.
An hour later, alone in her suite, Ariana sat on the edge of the bed, absently scrolling through her phone, trying to shake off the ever-growing unease.
Then the phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
For a brief moment, she considered ignoring it. But instinct made her answer.
"Ariana," the man's voice on the other end said smooth, calm, dangerously familiar.
Richard Caldwell.
She froze.
Her throat tightened involuntarily.
"I hope I'm not disturbing your evening," he continued, the slightest amusement in his tone.
Ariana forced her voice to remain steady.
"What do you want?"
"I simply wanted to remind you that in this world, loyalties shift... often unexpectedly."
She gripped the phone tighter, her knuckles whitening.
"I'm sure you're being well protected... for now," Richard continued, his voice lowering, hinting at unspoken threats.
"But eventually... well, let's just say necessary choices always present themselves."
He let the silence stretch before speaking once more, voice dangerously smooth:
"Think about it."
The call ended.
Ariana stared at the screen, her pulse racing, fear and anger warring inside her.
Meanwhile, across the city, in one of his private safe houses, Caldwell sat comfortably, sipping from a glass of wine as one of his men entered.
"She answered?"
"Yes."
"Good," Caldwell smiled faintly. "Now we wait."
Back in his penthouse study, Damien stared at the encrypted report on his screen. The call log showed Richard's number.
His face darkened.
"You made your move, Caldwell," he thought coldly.
"Now it's my turn."
With one swift command, Damien authorized the next phase.
The war had officially begun.