Thank you so much kukuhimanpr, Natsuki Sawada, Psy-Kick, Nora97, asya, Ellis Tobias, and Josie Hinn for your lovely reviews! And thank you Human Dictionary and Kyyteo and for your PMs. Just want to say thank you so much to all of you for all your support and encouragement - it really motivates me to keep going and keep writing, and with a project as huge as this I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it! Thank you all so much from the bottom of my heart. đź’–
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The Watkins' car was huge, bespoke to fit the unusually large men of the Watkins family. He had packed everything away and loaded them with his father into the massive car, ready for the start of the new term.
Bill watched the scenery go by, and kept silent. He could feel his chauffeur's stare boring into the road ahead of him, and he could feel his father's attention on him directly.
He didn't have the energy to talk about Desmond. It just wasn't on his agenda. As far as Bill was concerned, Becky was determined to remain friends with Damian - largely because of Anya, although she would never admit that she genuinely considered him a friend, too. And whoever was a friend of Becky's was a friend of Bill's, too.
So, talking to his father about the Desmond's was out of the question. It was unnecessary.
Now, Forger.
He didn't know what to make of her.
To some extent, he had agreed with Becky for some time that there was something going on, but he couldn't put his finger on what. Anya had always been a strange girl, but he never thought much beyond that. He liked her authenticity, and her playfulness, and more than anything else he liked that she was a good friend to Becky. It was half of the reason that he felt safe enough to ask her to the cinema with him, where he had planned to talk to her in total privacy to get her help with Becky. Not that he needed that anymore.
But, however many times he had told Becky to ignore something, or to be patient, or to not run to the nearest private investigator that she could find, Bill had to hold himself back equally hard. He hadn't had direct battle experience like his father did, but he did have a soldier's training, and there was definitely something… off. It annoyed him that he couldn't put his finger on it.
For a time, Bill ignored his gnawing instinct, in favour of living his school life as peacefully as possible. He ignored the way that she amassed Stella Stars through seemingly impossible feats of heroism, he ignored the rumours of her impressive feats on the practice obstacle course. (He overheard George Glooman tell Johnny and Louis from Wald Hall that Anya couldn't have been human to do those crazy feats, and them being Johnny and Louis, they laughed in his face, because what the hell was Glooman crazy enough to think up next?)
Bill didn't even speak to Glooman, so he couldn't have endorsed his crazy ideas, but something stuck: the thought that no normal person should be able to do any of that. It would be hypocritical of him not to give her the benefit of the doubt - because who was he to define the limits of a normal person? He wasn't normal. He was a Watkins, and his physical prowess alone could easily be proof of that.
Still, hadn't he completed his cadet training alongside his peers? Hadn't he shadowed his father's work in the army, witnessing first-hand the abilities that the elite had to offer? And if the strength, agility, and speed of the best-of-the-best paled in comparison to Anya Forger… how could he explain that?
So, he signed up for the Winter Warrior Inter-House Tournament.
Everyone expected that he would, because he was Bazooka Bill, but in actual fact, Bill wanted to see Anya Forger's rumoured athleticism for himself, and it was beyond what he had ever thought possible.
Her speed. Her strength. It was enough to leap across rivers as if they were a mere nuisance, surpass entire walls like they were only three feet high, and throw a hammer almost the length of a field.
Which begged the question…
… how?
Not that he ever got an answer to that. Bill tamped his burning curiosity firmly down, and chose instead to follow Becky's lead, because despite everything, Bill did mean what he said: anything to do with Anya Forger was none of his business.
At least, it wasn't until he stood in front of a shattered door, summoned by the caretaker.
"I want you and Miss Paulette to assess the damage," Mr Green briefed the both of them, and gave a prepared clipboard to each of them. "This should help you to work through the questions and work out the repairs needed. Don't forget to hand this to the budget consultant once you're finished."
He left quickly, and he and Alice exchanged a perplexed look.
"Wonderful," she groaned. "Don't you just love being an Imperial Scholar?"
Bill gave a non-committal response, clicked his pen to life, and got to work.
If it was just an ordinary door of an ordinary room, perhaps it wouldn't have merited an investigation at all, but Bill guessed that the school would want to rule out anything that was… intentional. Vandalism at Eden College was beyond unacceptable, and if the property was anything of value then of course the school would be wary.
The door was a mess, and clearly the damage had only been untouched because it was a particularly expensive door - one that was commissioned by Donovan Desmond, of all people. As far as the school committees were concerned, it was a mystery that it had been suddenly smashed beyond repair, and parts of it lay strewn in smithereens across the floor.
Bill made notes as he went, and carefully stepped over the sharp wooden shards. He wasn't a forensic expert by any stretch of the imagination, but it was hard not to notice that all the shards had been blasted inside the Boardroom, clearly taking an outside impact, from someone trying to get in.
"Damn," Alice mumbled, and clicked her teeth. "How strong are you, Forger?"
Alice had said it under her breath, barely audible in the normal sound range, but Bill's on-edge ears immediately pricked up.
"Forger did this?"
"Oh, that's right," she realised. "You weren't there when it happened."
Bill just stared at her.
"When what…?"
"At the Imperial Ball," Alice continued like it was obvious. "When you were talking to one of the teachers. Forger got worked up because Damian's father arrived, and then Emile and Blackbell dragged me here with them, and the door was already destroyed. I think they were trying to prevent… Damian from… seeing his father? Or something. I don't think I ever got the full story."
Bill eyed the edge of the skirting board, where a suspiciously dark something gripped onto the bottom edge of the wallpaper. A thick line of something that used to be wet, that looked as though it would be difficult to clean…
"And you saw Forger do this?"
"Yeah. Well." Alice paused. "Actually, no."
Bill raised his eyebrow at her, a subtle sign to elaborate.
"There were splinters in her dress, and scratches on her arms, and… her shoes were…" Alice paused, her eyes snagging over the same dark mark that Bill had observed, and for a long moment it looked as though her mind was elsewhere, before she shook her head. "Actually, nevermind. Why am I even telling you this? We're literally writing a report on the scene."
Bill pressed his lips into a flat line, considering his next steps.
Alice was technically right. They were supposed to forward any suspicious information to the higher ups at the school, but Bill was relieved to note that Alice had kept her suspicions to herself so far. He supposed that was a sign of her true intentions, despite the fact that she was opening up to him about her curiosity. Everyone knew that Anya Forger was only one Tonitrus Bolt away from being put on Expulsion Order, and despite Bill's conscientious and disciplined nature, he found that would rather fling himself off a cliff than be the one to rat out Becky's best friend.
"I'm not planning on getting a friend expelled," he said decisively, and then he glanced at Alice out of the corner of his eye, measuring her reaction. "Are you?"
Alice tensed up. "No, of course not."
"Then we're agreed," Bill concluded and adjusted his glasses, re-reading the notes in front of him. "Well, would you look at that? Looks like we covered the basics in our report. Nothing else to add."
Alice nodded stoically.
"Nothing at all," she agreed.
Having miraculously managed to avoid the press and the journalists and the news for over a month, Damian really should have known that it would all come crashing down around him sooner or later. Meanwhile, the whispers continued to cling on to him like smoke.
He should be ashamed of himself.
What does he know about being an heir? He's only the second son.
It should have been obvious that Damian was missing some key piece of information, but his natural reaction was to stick his head in the sand, and so he forced himself to not pay attention to the whispers around him, forced himself to look away from any and all newspapers, and walk out of the room if the news started to broadcast on any screen.
Which would have worked, if it weren't for his own traitorous friends, who had cornered him in a quiet section of the library, under the pretence of studying.
His eyes snagged on the headlines of the newspaper on the table.
The article that Becky pushed in front of him.
"Have you seen this?" she asked him directly, but not unkindly.
Damian tried to swallow, but it felt as though his mouth had dried up completely as the headline stared him in the face.
Desmond Group Faces Uncertain Future as 18-Year-Old Damian Assumes Leadership.
The start of the article reiterated everything that the public already knew: his father's detainment, the ongoing investigation and beginnings of court procedures, and of course, the sparse details about the allegations themselves. As if the public needed a summary of everything again. But, as Damian's eyes scanned further down, his stomach twisted into even more entangling knots.
The succession comes at a critical time for the Desmond Group: a conglomerate with a vast array of business interests. Damian, in his final year of high school, is poised to step into the role of CEO, raising more than a few eyebrows, and prompting intense speculation about his ability to navigate the complexities of running a major corporation.
Damian's youth and profound inexperience in the business world has sparked concerns among shareholders and industry experts alike, with one question on everyone's mind:
Can Damian really help his father's legacy rise from the ashes?
One of the most notable aspects of this transition is the young Desmond's decision to maintain a low profile in the weeks following his father's arrest. Despite heightened interest from the press and major stakeholders, both Desmond brothers have yet to make any public statements or appearances to save their family's tattered reputation. The silence has only fueled speculation and led to even more questions about his readiness for the responsibilities being thrust upon him.
What makes this transition even more intriguing is the fact that Damian is being given the reins over his older brother, Demetrius, who, at 30 years old, has shadowed their father and presumably gained valuable experience within the company. It raises questions about Donovan's decision to pass over his eldest son in favour of Damian, an 18-year-old with limited exposure to the corporate world.
The article continued, but Damian had had enough, so he let the paper flop back onto the table and crossed his arms defensively.
"Whatever. It's not like I care," he mumbled, but he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with any of his friends. Out of the corner of his vision, Ewen, Emile, and Becky exchanged worried glances, and Damian wanted to sink into the ground.
At least the additional whispers and rumours made sense now, but it didn't give him any pleasure to learn that a significant proportion of people (and Eden students) recognised his total lack of competence in upholding the Desmond name.
Becky's lips pressed into a flat line, but she gave a meaningful glance at Ewen and Emile, urging them to pick up from where she left off.
It was a long moment before Ewen cleared his throat and started speaking.
"The thing is, Boss, we've been firstborn heirs our whole lives and-"
Damian sank deeper into his chair, mortified.
"And what?" he groaned, face already flushed. "You don't need to rub it in."
"That is not what this is about!" Emile burst out, pleading Damian with his eyes. "Our parents have shown us the ropes in our own family businesses, so we can help!"
"You can't help me," he grumbled into his hand, but his friends continued valiantly as though they had not heard him.
"I'm already in charge of some of my father's projects," Becky added, but her eyes roamed Damian carefully, all too familiar with his tendency to burst out in anger. "If you just talked us through what you've got, we can-"
"What? You can make me into something I'm not? You saw the papers. I've got no experience. I'm barely qualified for this. Noone believes I can do it anyway so why should I bother? I'll only prove them right."
"That's not-"
"Because I've got nothing!" Damian gritted it out through his teeth. "I admit it! I don't know the first thing about running a company - never mind a Group! Because this was never supposed to happen!"
"Damian-"
Tears stung his eyes, and the rush of Damian's heartbeat crashed so loudly in his ears that he realised that he couldn't even tell which one of his friends was trying to grab his attention.
"If I try I'll just fuck everything up, because that's all I'm good at! So don't bother, because it'll only make you guys look worse -"
A slam on the table.
"Would you stop whining for a minute and just listen to us?!"
Becky leaned against the table with both of har palms flat against the wood, breathing hard, just like Damian, her eyes alive with fury.
It shocked Damian into silence, and all he could do was blink back at her, as if astonished that she had just talked back to him like that.
"Right," Becky seethed. "First of all, don't you dare run away from this, because what you've apparently forgotten is that the Desmond Group is a business partner with Blackbell Heavy Industries, so if you're so set on captaining a sinking ship, then you're going to take me down too! Also-" she took a heaving breath. "Yes, you don't have as much experience as we do, but that's why we're all here! We share our experience and work together, so that you don't fail, because ultimately, I don't believe for a second that straight-A student, Imperial-Scholar-at-fourteen Damian Desmond would ever fail on purpose!"
It appeared that Damian wasn't the only one who had been shocked into silence, because Ewen and Emile also stared at Becky with their mouths open.
To her credit, a blush rose on Becky's cheeks as she realised that in the process of trying to get Damian's attention, she had also lost her temper. She cleared her throat, partly to parse the sudden tension, and resumed her seat - a clear signal to the boys that their meeting was to continue, regardless of Damian's own feelings about it.
"That's what we're trying to tell you, Boss," Ewen said quietly. "We didn't know how to do any of this until we started shadowing our parents. That's how people like us learn."
Damian's face warmed, more out of embarrassment than anything else, because how could he be so stupid? Of course his friends were only trying to help him, and there he was, acting like an ungrateful asshole. He squirmed in his seat, and resigned himself to hearing them out because, and he hated to admit it, Becky was right. He had a responsibility, even if he didn't want to do it.
"Okay, now that we're on the same page," Becky continued. "Did your father have an Advisor?"
"Er…"
Damian frowned, trying to think about it. Genuinely, he could not recall anyone other than Demetrius being pictured by his father's side.
"Not that I know of."
"Well, start there," said Becky authoritatively, although she kept herself from saying anything else. It appeared that even she knew when she had overstepped, or that Damian was close to a limit, and she didn't want to find out what happened when he reached it.
"Fine," said Damian, resigned. "Is there anything else?"
The three heirs shared a sigh of relief. At least Damian was more receptive now.
"There's one more thing," said Ewen, and he brought out a business card, sliding it towards Damian. "These are the contacts for a tutor in media training."
"Media training…?"
"For your press conference," Becky finished.
For a second, Damian had thought he had misheard, but when all three stared back at him with utter seriousness, Damian reeled back.
"What?!"
"Because," she got his attention again. "You need to break your silence, somehow! The longer you remain quiet, the more your company shares will lose value, and the more unstable your business will be. So, you will have a press conference, where you can answer everyone's queries, address the rumours, and prove to them that you're ready to lead the company."
"But I'm not ready for this!" he spluttered before he could stop himself.
"They don't have to know that," she rolled her eyes before flashing him a sly grin, and Damian realised that he had really not been appreciating Becky's people skills enough.
"If anything, it will give you a bit of breathing space from the press," Emile added.
Out of everything, that was what gave Damian true pause, and he allowed himself to feel some semblance of hope. If he could get the press to back off, maybe he could actually walk outside without the fear of having a panic attack. Maybe he could breathe a little easier. Maybe he wouldn't have to be subjected to so many oppressive whispers and rumours that he was powerless to dispel.
"Alright," Damian conceded. "I'll do it."
But he didn't give enough time for his friends to relax before he shot them a displeased glare.
"Just give me a warning next time, alright?! I do not appreciate being ambushed like this."
Ewen and Emile bowed their heads apologetically. "Sorry, Boss."
Damian sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, and pushed it out with his diaphragm, doing his best to take deep, calming breaths.
"I'm sorry too," he forced out grudgingly. "And… thank you."
It didn't take long for the group to settle, and soon Damian was back to glazing over his assignments, barely taking them in, before a familiar head of pink hair poked out from behind the bookshelves.
"Hey, Damian!" Anya called out. "Can you help me with Biology again?"
Wordlessly, he made room on the bench for her to join the table. He had a strong feeling that she knew all about their plan to corner him about what it meant to be an heir, and left them to it, but he had no intention of chasing that thought.
True to his word, Damian did intend to follow up on their advice. A press conference was the most straightforward way to dispel the rumours, and to do that, it made sense that he would need media training. He had heard of it before, but he never expected that he would need it so soon. But, before he could even get to that, he needed to face his responsibility to lead the Desmond Group, and before he could do that, he needed to find an Advisor.
It was a simple plan. Advisor, then media training, then press conference. Maybe if he could convince himself that it was a simple three-step process, then it wouldn't feel so daunting.
Damian dragged his hand down over his face, exhaling a weary sigh.
His friends were right. He was really out of his depth. What did he know about running a single business - nevermind a group of companies? It was laughable. What the fuck had possessed his father to come up with this idea, this brilliant plan, or giving everything over to Damian? What was he expecting Damian to do? Did he seriously expect Damian to successfully take over the businesses with no help, no guidance, not even a word from his Advisor?
Damian ground his teeth. It looked like he had no choice but to swallow his pride, and call the very people that he had hoped to avoid.
(Nevermind that he was supposed to do this on top of school, and being an Imperial Scholar, and training with Mrs Forger, and continuing to protect Anya's secrets - )
The phone receiver pressed against his ear, and he did everything possible to calm his racing heartbeat, to steady his thin and fraying nerves.
"Desmond residence."
"Jeeves," Damian spoke as soon as the line clicked open. "I have a question for you. Do you know who my father's Advisor was? Or who I could contact about the Desmond Group?"
A sigh on the other end.
"I'm afraid I do not know, sir. I am employed by your mother to facilitate attending to the estate and the residences. I was not involved in the businesses."
Ah. Jeeves' words were like a punch to the gut.
"But I will forward your call to Demetrius -"
The panic rose in him immediately. "Wait, no-"
The line clicked off, and Damian rubbed his eyes, groaning.
"Shit. Now I have to talk to the bastard."
"I heard that."
Damian jumped. He didn't realise that Demetrius was already on the call.
Nevertheless, he needed that information, and if it meant holding back his snark and his rage and speaking to Demetrius, then he had no choice but to take what he could get.
"Why can't you run the businesses?" Damian questioned, barely holding back the anger already leaking out of him. "You were by Father's side the whole time!"
"You know why."
"Because you were Father's aide, yeah alright! But how am I supposed to do it when I don't know anything! I know you said that you would tell me everything after I graduate but that's not good enough! I need to know everything now! Surely, you could-"
"I can't."
For some reason, those two words stopped Damian in his tracks, and it pulled on a memory from before Christmas. Hadn't he heard Demetrius say those words before?
I can't say. Sorry.
He didn't realise his brother was being serious.
"You… can't?" said Damian quietly, frowning. "Why not?"
A chilling pause. During which, Damian suddenly noticed the unsettling increase of his heart rate, the strange sensation of his palms growing slick with sweat.
And then, the sound of faint voices gathering in the background.
Suddenly, Demetrius' voice lowered, so quiet that Damian had to strain to hear his older brother. He could almost picture how tightly Demetrius would have pressed the phone to his mouth.
"Contact Arnold Handel. Find out everything you can about the Agreement."
The words rushed out of him, while voices in the background grew ever closer, and Damian watched with unease as the hairs on his own arms stood on end of their own accord.
Panic laced into his voice. "Please, be careful."
The voice in the background was close enough that even Damian could hear it: "Demetrius? Who are you talking to-"
"I have to go."
"Demetrius, wait-"
But just as Damian hastily blurted his brother's name in a near-desperate plea, the dial tone rang through, and Damian realised with disappointment and some measure of confusion that his older brother had already hung up on him.
Again.
This time though, Damian could not bring himself to be angry. He stared at the receiver a long moment, as if Demetrius' voice would come back at any second, and he moved on automatic, as though he watched someone else's hand put the phone down back in its cradle.
It took a long time for Damian to tear his eyes away from the phone. A chill trickled its way down his spine, and for some reason that he could not quite place, his heart hammered in his chest, drumming a warning that he couldn't understand.
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Just to confirm, Alice's intentions are not malicious! She's confused as hell and respects Bill enough to chat to him about it, and to trust his judgement.
Sorry there wasn't much Damianya in this chapter! This time we had more of Damian's friends being there for him in the ways they know how to be, and Demetrius being **mysterious**. But we are a few steps closer to unravelling the puzzle...
Speaking of Damianya, there's something that I want to get your opinion on! (While I have a chapter with no bombs in it!).
A few people have asked about Damian and Anya's physical intimacy: I was not planning on writing their physical relationship, partly because I'm not entirely sure where it would even fit, and also because I'm aware that the readers of this story (you!) span all sorts of ages, and I want to keep this story as accessible as possible. Also, outright smut is not really allowed on this website, and I don't want to get banned.
Saying that, I hear you, fellow readers! Their relationship is so cute and loving and maybe the story is heavy enough that getting some extra fluff would be a relief. So I would really like to hear your thoughts and opinions:
How would you feel if I included more physical intimacy in this story? (Even if it meant increasing the rating)
Would it be better to write it separately, and just link it in for those who are interested? (e.g. writing it on AO3, since they allow writing physical scenes)
Would you be interested in reading more fluff, or more of their physical side?
Let me knooooooowww
Next chapter Wednesday 31st January