Chapter 7 Retaliation
Fast forward and Ashley had moved into the "staff quarters" after a quick shopping trip for essentials and clothes.
Henry Larson Villa’s featured a tastefully luxurious decor. The living room boasted a circular ceiling from which hung a crystal chandelier, casting shimmering, dream-like patterns.
She moved in not for luxury, but to save a dime. There's an old saying, "When you're down and out, money talks." Ashley never worried about money before, but now she knew all too well the weight of every penny.
Who could hold her responsible for her failure or her heedless companion selection?
With no interest in the view, she organized the bedroom, only realizing during a bathroom trip that her period had started.
She took her keys and headed downstairs, googling for the nearest convenience store.
Stepping out of the building, she spotted a tall figure in the distance.
Solitary beneath the orange streetlamp, his shadow cast on the grass. A light breeze teased his hair, reshaping the contours of his face.
He was smoking, the flame of his lighter flickering, smoke spiraling, enveloping him in a distinctly masculine aura.
Damian lived here too? Didn’t he live in Garden Villas?
Was he here specifically for her?
For a work talk this late? Or to settle scores?
"Not gonna say hi?"
Ashley had planned a stealthy run, but Damian initiated a conversation.
She skipped the idea of running; it would only make her look guilty, and she had nothing to hide.
"Damian, what a coincidence."
He pinched the cigarette between two fingers, "I don’t buy that a man taking a stroll under a woman's window at night and her running into him is just coincidence.”
"So?”
"I needed to see you about something.”
Ashley clenched her fists, a sheen of sweat in her palms, as the dull ache in her lower abdomen intensified, "What's going on?"
"You won a case but only pocketed fifty grand in legal fees while losing a house in the process. Didn’t you ever want to dig for the truth?" Damian exhaled a plume of smoke, his demeanor exceptionally aloof.
"The police are still on the hunt for the arsonist..." Ashley suddenly had a realization and became guarded, "Are you investigating me?"
"You're my legal consultant; of course, I need to assess your capabilities. But I didn't expect you to lack even basic fire safety knowledge."
"I..." she stuttered.
Damian stubbed out his cigarette on the lid of a trash can and said, "Come on, I’ll take you to meet someone."
Thinking it was for work, Ashley didn't ask many questions and got into Damian’s Bentley.
Once settled, she realized something was wrong.
She hadn't used a tampon. If this took too long, wouldn't she risk staining his leather seats?
"Is it far?"
"Not at all."
Damian's car finally came to a halt.
It was an abandoned bar 9 miles away.
Ashley couldn't help but snort derisively, "Not far?"
"Far is a relative term. I don't think it's far," Damian replied, locking the car door and stepping up onto the sidewalk.
Ashley was skeptical; this place didn't look like anywhere you'd meet a client. It seemed more like the perfect spot for murder and hiding a body.
"Damian, I was wrong! It's all my fault! I swear I'll never dare you again! Please, give me another chance!"
Though the bar was deserted, its lights were still on. Beneath the bright chandelier, a man of average height and considerable girth knelt, trembling, his face fleshy.
Beside the man stood Mason, a regular in the financial magazines.
Ashley immediately understood. Mason's nephew had been sentenced in one of her cases; the fire must have been their doing.
"Damian! I beg you, spare my life. I was blind, not realizing that Ashley was your wife! I made a mistake!"
Damian, standing squarely in the doorway, hand casually in his pocket, rhythmically tapped his thigh, "Where did you go wrong?"
"I shouldn't have sought revenge on Ashley. I shouldn't have set her house on fire... I'm sorry, Ashley, please... save me!"
The man was drenched in sweat, his face shifting from pale to crimson. Seeing Damian made him shake even more violently.
As his pleading hands nearly touched Ashley's pant leg, Damian stepped down hard on it!
A sickening crunch sounded.
Damian's leather shoe had crushed the man's hand, seemingly without effort. The man's knuckles shattered.
Chilled to the core, Ashley gasped in shock, "Damian..."
Damian lifted his foot and inquired coolly, "Mason, how do you propose we settle this?"
Ashley caught a glimpse of Mason's contorted face, a far cry from the charisma he radiated on magazine covers. "Damian, he is just ignorant. Can you..."
"Mason, are you saying you want a bargain?"
Damian's piercing gaze signaled Thomas, who quickly fetched a dagger and handed it over to Mason.
"This..."
"He seems to have trouble using his hands. Maybe it's time for a lesson."
His tone was disturbingly casual, as if he were talking about plucking a weed rather than hurting someone's hand.
His words carried an air of cruel authority. Though standing in an abandoned, cobweb-laden hall, he remained untainted, solitary in his cleanliness.
This was Damian, the man she had once looked up to and loved deeply.
Mason's knees buckled, and he nearly knelt. "Damian... my wife, this is her only brother. Please!"
"Mason can’t do it, you do it."
"Yes, sir!"
Thomas seized the dagger from Mason's hand. "Mason, if it were up to me, it wouldn't just be a pair of hands."
"Mason, save me! Please, no, Damian, don't do this. Ashley, Miss Astor, help me!"
A flicker of emotion crossed Ashley's face as she glanced aside, "Isn't this a bit extreme?"
Damian's arm casually draped over her shoulder, "I'm just making it clear that what's mine is off-limits to everyone but me."
Yours? Was she merely a possession in Damian's eyes? Had he orchestrated this brutal display just to send a message?
Ashley's expression chilled as she shrugged off his hand. "There's no need for such a dramatic reminder for me. You've gone to quite some effort."
Damian's face was unreadable. "It's no effort at all. Just some orders to make."
A scream pierced the air.
The man let out shouts of agony so loud that the terrible sound of steel penetrating flesh was lost.
"See it?" Damian's voice was cold as the wails subsided, his gaze on the bloody flesh but his words aimed at Ashley.
Ashley's face was pale, terror battering her from the inside out. If not for the façade established in courtrooms, she could have fallen apart by now.
"If you aim to intimidate me, let me tell you, I don't scare easily."
Damian's lips curled into a half-smile, offering neither explanation nor excuse.
Intimidate her?
Had he not arrived timely, it would have been Ashley's ghost standing beside him now.
"Sir, Mason handled it personally," Thomas whispered.
Damian hummed a response and led Ashley away from the decrepit bar.
