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Chapter 56 Beneath the Surface: A Debt Revealed and Favor Returned
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The sound of our laughter faded into the night as I gathered myself, wiping tears of mirth from my eyes. Who would have thought the Imposing Damien Sterling had once been a firecracker–wielding troublemaker?
“I still can’t picture you as a delinquent, I admitted, still smiling.
Damien’s eyes softened as he looked at me. “There’s something I need to tell you, Hazel. Something I should have mentioned sooner.
The sudden shift in his tone made me tense. “What is it?”
He took a deep breath. “Your help that day with the dog bite and the fever–it wasn’t just a small favor. You saved my life.”
I stared at him, confused. “What? How?”
“The dog that bit me belonged to one of the higher–ranking officers. It had rabies.” His voice was measured, controlled. “And the fever? It wasn’t just any fever. It was the beginning of sepsis from an infected wound.”
My hand flew to my mouth. “But you seemed okay when I left…
“I wasn’t. After you helped me that second time, my grandfather found me unconscious. I spent two weeks in the military hospital.” He paused, his eyes never leaving mine. “The doctors said if I’d arrived even hours later, I might not have made it.”
My knees felt weak. I gripped the railing for support. “Why didn’t you tell me this
before?”
“I wanted to approach you many times over the years,” he admitted. “But when I finally found you again, you were already engaged to Julian. Your wedding was approaching. I didn’t want to complicate your life with this… debt I felt I owed you.”
“Debt?” I repeated, the word feeling strange on my tongue.
“Yes. In my family, we have a saying: ‘A life saved creates a bond stronger than blood. I wanted to repay you, but l’also didn’t want to intrude on your happiness.”
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Everything suddenly made sense–his timely appearance after Julian betrayed me, hist unwavering support, the way his family had embraced me.
“So all of this–helping me with my business, defending me against my father, introducing me to your family–it was to repay a debt?”
Damien shook his head firmly. “It started that way, perhaps. But it quickly became. much more.” He moved closer until I could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You were suffering. Hazel. Your fiancé had betrayed you. Your family was trying to destroy you. I couldn’t stand by and watch.
I processed his words, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. Relief that his motives weren’t mysterious or manipulative, but disappointment that they stemmed from obligation rather than…what? What had I been hoping for?
“I have another question,” I said, pushing away the confusing emotions. “Were you at my wedding? The one that became Julian and Ivy’s wedding?”
A flash of something–anger? regret?-crossed his face. “Yes.”
“But how? I’ve never seen you on any of the guest lists or photos.”
Damien leaned against the railing. “I came as Elias Easton’s plus–one. He’s an associate who received an invitation. I wanted to congratulate you properly, give you a wedding
gift.”
I gaped at him. “You were going to attend my wedding to another man?”
“It sounds strange now,” he admitted with a self–deprecating smile. “But yes. I had accepted that your path and mine weren’t meant to cross romantically. I just wanted to see you happy, even if it was with someone else.”
His honesty disarmed me. “What was the gift?”
“A check. Substantial enough to help you expand your design business internationally.”
My eyes widened. “How substantial?”
“Ten million.”
I nearly choked. “Ten million dollars? For someone you barely knew?”
“For someone who saved my life,” he corrected gently. “Someone whose talent
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deserved to be recognized globally.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “And what happened to this check when you realized I wasn’t the bride?”
A small, satisfied smile played on his lips. “I took it back. I certainly wasn’t going to fund Julian and Ivy’s honeymoon.”
That made me laugh despite myself. “Good. I hope they struggled to pay for their tacky trip to the Maldives.”
Damien’s expression darkened. “I made sure the resort experienced some… booking issues with their reservation.”
I looked at him with new appreciation. “You petty, magnificent man.”
He shrugged, but I could see he was pleased by my reaction.
“So all this time,” I said slowly, “you’ve been repaying a debt I didn’t even know existed.”
“Not just repaying a debt,” he corrected me. “Getting to know the woman who fascinated me even as a child. The girl who helped a stranger without question. The woman who built herself up from nothing, despite everything working against her.”
His words warmed something deep inside me. For so long, I’d questioned his motives, wondered what someone like Damien Sterling could possibly want from someone like me. Now I understood–and it wasn’t just duty that drove him.
“Thank you for telling me,” I said softly, “For being honest.”
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. “I don’t want secrets between us, Hazel.”
The implications of that statement hung in the air between us, charged with possibility.
Before I could respond, the terrace door opened, and Chloe’s voice broke the moment. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two!”
She bounded over to us, her elegant dress swishing around her legs. “Brother dearest, Mom needs you to speak with Senator Richardson about something boring and political.”
Damien sighed. “Of course. Excuse me, Hazel.”
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As he walked away, Chloe looped her arm through mine. “Finally, I get you all to myself! The mysterious designer who’s captivated my normally unflappable brother.”
I felt my cheeks warm. “He was just explaining how we met as children.”
“Ah, the famous dog bite incident!” Chloe exclaimed. “You know, he still has a tiny scar on his leg. He refuses to get it removed–says it reminds him of the importance of kindness from strangers.”
This new insight into Damien touched me deeply.
Chloe leaned against the railing where her brother had stood moments before. “He works too hard, you know. Eighteen–hour days sometimes. I can’t remember the last time he took a vacation.”
I frowned. “That can’t be healthy.”
“It’s not,” she agreed. “Mom worries constantly. But he won’t listen to us.” She paused, giving me a significant look. “He might listen to you, though.”
“Me? We’re not–I mean, I don’t think I have that kind of influence.”
Chloe laughed, a bright, musical sound. “Oh, Hazel. For someone so perceptive about design, you’re remarkably blind to the obvious.” She patted my arm. “My brother looks at you like you’re the sunrise after the longest night.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Anyway,” she continued, mercifully changing the subject, “I have a favor to ask. Would you design something for me? I have a solo concert coming up next month, and I want something that makes a statement.”
“Of course,” I replied, grateful for the professional topic. “What kind of statement?”
“Bold but elegant. Something that honors both my classical training and my Chinese. heritage. Maybe incorporating elements that reflect guzheng music?”
I was already envisioning possibilities. “I could work with traditional silhouettes but add contemporary details. Perhaps some asymmetrical elements that echo the diagonal strings of the guzheng…
Chloe clapped her hands in delight. “Yes! Exactly that! This is why you’re brilliant, Hazel.
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We spoke for nearly twenty minutes about her design preferences, and I found myself genuinely enjoying her company. Unlike many wealthy clients who treated designers as servants, Chloe was respectful and enthusiastic.
“One more thir
before we head back downstairs,” she said, suddenly serious. “If you happen to notice my brother skipping meals or working through the night–which he absolutely does–please don’t hesitate to intervene. He needs someone who isn’t afraid to stand up to him.“
The request surprised me. “I’m not sure that’s my place.”
“Maybe not yet,” she replied with a knowing smile. “But I have a feeling it will be.”
When we finally returned to the party, something strange happened. The society ladies who had previously avoided me or whispered behind their hands now approached with warm smiles and enthusiastic greetings.
“Hazel, darling! Your dress is absolutely exquisite!”
“We’ve been hoping to speak with you all evening!”
“I simply must get your card–my daughter is getting married next spring”
I glanced at Damien across the room, who met my gaze with a small, satisfied smile. Whatever had changed in my status here was clearly his doing. With a gentle nod, he raised his glass in a subtle toast.
In that moment, I realized that the debt between us had shifted. He believed he owed me for saving his life years ago, but in many ways, he had saved mine too–from financial ruin, from my father’s schemes, from social ostracism.
As I accepted compliments and exchanged pleasantries with people who wouldn’t have acknowledged me days ago, I couldn’t help but wonder: What would happen now that the scales were balanced between us?
