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Chapter 122 – Freedom’s Shadow
The sleek black car slid through city traffic, a cocoon of silence surrounding us. Damien’s words at the courthouse steps still echoed in my mind. Had he really just promised to marry me in front of everyone? In front of Julian?
“You’re overthinking again,” Damien said softly, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “I can practically hear the gears turning in your head.”
I shifted in my seat, turning slightly to face him. “Can you blame me? You just announced to half the city that you’re planning to marry me.”
His lips curved into that confident smile I’d come to know so well. “And that troubles you?”
“It’s just…” I searched for the right words. “We’ve never even discussed marriage, Damien. And now the Graysons will be even more determined to come after me.”
He reached over, his warm hand covering mine. “Let them try. I meant what I said, Hazel. Every word.”
My heart fluttered traitorously, but uncertainty lingered. “This isn’t a game to me.”
“Nor to me.” His voice was gentle but firm. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
Before I could respond, we pulled up to La Maison. Through the restaurant’s expansive windows, I could see Victoria and Cherry already seated, champagne flutes glinting in the afternoon light.
“We’ll talk more later,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.
Damien’s eyes held mine. “We will.”
“To freedom!” Victoria raised her glass, her smile radiant. “And to Hazel finally being rid of that spineless jerk!”
“To freedom,” we echoed, the crystal glasses clinking harmoniously.
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The champagne was crisp and cold, bubbles dancing on my tongue. For a moment, I let myself truly feel it–the liberation, the closing of that painful chapter.
Cherry leaned forward, her curious eyes darting between Damien and me. “So are we going to talk about what happened outside the courthouse? The whole internet is buzzing about it already.”
I nearly choked on my champagne. “What?”
Victoria grinned wickedly, sliding her phone across the table. “See for yourself. Someone uploaded a video. “Tycoon Defends Ex–Wife of Cancer Patient’s Husband.‘ It’s going viral.
The thumbnail showed Damien standing protectively beside my wheelchair, facing down Mrs. Landon. I groaned, pushing the phone away without watching.
“Perfect. Just perfect.”
Damien seemed entirely unconcerned, casually selecting a piece of bread from the basket. “Public opinion will shift in your favor. The video clearly shows the Graysons harassing you.”
Victoria raised an eyebrow at him. “You don’t seem worried about being linked to Hazel so publicly. Won’t this affect Sterling Enterprises?”
“Not in any way that concerns me,” he replied smoothly.
“So…” Cherry’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “When exactly did this happen between you two? Hazel’s been keeping secrets.”
I felt my cheeks warm. “It’s not–we haven’t-”
“We met properly at the hospital after Hazel’s accident,” Damien cut in, saving me from my stammering. “Though we’d crossed paths before.”
Victoria turned to me with narrowed eyes. “And you didn’t tell me? Your best friend?”
“There wasn’t much to tell,” I protested. “Everything happened so fast.”
“Fast enough for marriage proposals in front of the courthouse?” Cherry teased.
Damien’s lips quirked. “That wasn’t a proposal. When I propose to Hazel, it will be private and far more memorable.”
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My breath caught at the certainty in his voice. When, not if.
Victoria studied Damien with renewed interest. “You seem very confident that she’ll
say yes.
He turned to me, his gaze softening. “She didn’t pull her hand away when I took it. I consider that significant progress.”
The three of them laughed while I felt my face grow hotter. “You’re all impossible.”
The rest of lunch passed in a blur of good food, flowing champagne, and endless teasing. Despite my embarrassment, I found myself laughing more genuinely than I had in months. Freedom tasted sweet, even with its complications.
The ride back to my apartment was charged with unspoken tension. Damien drove in comfortable silence, one hand occasionally reaching over to rest on mine. Each touch sent electricity through my veins.
“I’m sorry if I overwhelmed you today,” he finally said as we approached my building. “It wasn’t my intention to put you on the spot.”
I stared out the window, watching the familiar streets pass by. “I just don’t understand what you see in me, Damien. I’m a walking disaster right now. My business is struggling, I’m just divorced, and half the city thinks I’m some heartless gold–digger.”
He pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine before facing me fully. “What I see is a woman who refuses to be broken. Who fights with intelligence and dignity. Who cares deeply about her craft and the people she loves.”
His intensity made it hard to breathe. “You barely know me.”
“I know enough,” he said simply. “The rest, I look forward to discovering.”
I looked down at my hands. “And what about your family? Would they approve of
someone like me?”
*My mother already adores you, sight unseen. Chloe’s been singing your praises since the day she met you.” His finger gently tilted my chin up. “And even if they didn’t, it wouldn’t change how I feel.”
The air between us thickened. His gaze dropped to my lips, and for a moment, I
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thought he might kiss me. Instead, he pulled back slightly.
“Before I forget,” he said, his voice low. “There’s a New Year’s Eve party at The Pinnacle.- Would you be my date?”
The Pinnacle–only the most exclusive venue in the city, where the clite gathered for major celebrations. Being seen there with Damien would make our relationship undeniably public.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for that kind of attention,” I admitted.
“Consider it,” he said. “No pressure. But I’d like to start the new year with you by my
side.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He walked me to my door, his hand a gentle presence at the small of my back.
“Thank you for today,” I said as we reached my apartment. “For everything.”
He smiled, lifting my hand to his lips for a brief kiss that sent shivers down my spine. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
As I watched him walk away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was standing at a precipice. One step forward, and everything would change irrevocably.
The next few days passed in a pleasant blur. Congratulatory messages about my divorce filled my phone. Victoria dragged me shopping for “freedom celebration outfits.” Even my attorney called with good news–Giselle Grayson’s trial date had been set, with overwhelming evidence against her.
For the first time in months, I felt hopeful. The cloud that had been hanging over me since Julian’s betrayal was finally lifting.
Then my phone rang late one evening. Damien’s name flashed on the screen.
“Have you checked social media in the last hour?” he asked without preamble, his voice tight with controlled anger.
“No, why?”
“There are posts circulating. About you. Malicious ones.”
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My stomach dropped. “What kind of posts?”
Accusations. Slander. His voice softened slightly. “Hazel, they’re trying to destroy
your reputation.”
With trembling fingers, I opened my social media app while keeping Damien on the line. Immediately, I saw it–my name trending. Not in a good way.
The first post had thousands of shares already: “#A&GBespoke Chief Designer’s Adultery with Mysterious Tycoon During Marriage.”
Below it, another: “#Former Mother–in–Law Kneels and Begs in Public, Former Daughter–in–Law Coldly Unmoved.”
And worse: “Sources reveal Hazel Ashworth was having an affair while her husband cared for his dying sister.”
Post after vicious post, carefully crafted to paint me as the villain. My breathing grew shallow as the room seemed to spin around me.
“Hazel? Are you still there?” Damien’s concerned voice cut through my panic.
“They’re saying I cheated on Julian,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “They’re twisting everything.”
“Listen to me,” Damien said firmly. “I’m coming over. We’ll handle this together. Don’t respond to anything. Don’t read any more.”
But I couldn’t stop scrolling, couldn’t tear my eyes away from the vitriol directed at me. The freedom I’d so briefly tasted was already being snatched away, replaced by the bitter taste of public persecution.
“Hazel?”
“Yes,” I managed to say, my throat tight with unshed tears. “Please come quickly.”
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