Damien pov
The call came at 9 AM the next morning.
I was in my office, reviewing business documents with new eyes. Every contract, every acquisition, every strategic decision I'd made over the past fifteen years all of it potentially influenced by Brighton.
My phone rang. Unknown number.
"Damien Cross." I answered automatically, still distracted by the papers in front of me.
"Mr. Cross. This is Senator Brighton's office. The Senator would like to meet with you today at 2 PM. Are you available?"
My blood ran cold. Brighton wanted to see me. The day after Elena had told me everything. The day after I'd learned he'd murdered my family.
Coincidence? Or did he somehow know?
"Of course," I heard myself say. "I'll be there."
"Excellent. The Senator's private office. You know the address."
The line went dead.
I sat there for a long moment, staring at nothing. Then I called Elena.
"He wants to see me," I said when she answered. "Brighton. Today at 2 PM."
"What? Why?"
