Chapter 17
Grayson froze, a flicker of confusion flashing in his eyes.
“Savvy, I looked into it. This is your first–ever gallery opening. Don’t all girls like this kind of romantic gesture?”
Savannah clutched her chest, breath catching as a wave of rage made her vision blur.
“Like it?” Her voice trembled. “Grayson, you ruined my debut. Do you get that?”
She pointed to the crowd now whispering and peeking from all directions. “Look around. Is anyone still admiring my work? They’re not here for the art anymore–they’re here to watch me fall apart!”
Her glare bore into him, teeth clenched. “And the reason I’m a damn spectacle tonight–is you.”
She’d spent so long preparing for this.
Ever since her first day at the College, she’d dreamed of this moment–a room filled with people admiring her vision, her world.
But Grayson’s grand entrance had dragged her dream through the mud, flushing years of effort down the toilet.
Grayson panicked. He stammered out an excuse, flustered and desperate. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, Savvy, I swear. I just—I just wanted to make you happy…”
“Don’t.” She cut him off, voice flat, eyes drained of warmth. “Don’t twist this into something noble. This whole thing? It’s for you—to make you feel good. To prove to yourself you still matter.”
“I don’t need it. And I don’t need you. This is my space. Get out.”
Before Grayson could respond, Damien suddenly rushed in from the sidelines and socked him straight across the face.
“Didn’t you hear her? She said get lost.”
He stripped off his coat, wrapped it firmly around Savannah, and turned her away from the crowd, shielding her like a wall.
Grayson stumbled from the blow, his head snapping to the side. His eyes widened when he saw Damien’s arm around Savannah, protective and close. Red filled his vision. “What gives you the right to touch her?” he snarled. “Who the hell do you think you are?!”
Damien hadn’t planned on causing a scene–this was Savannah’s night, after all. But Grayson’s shameless obsession had finally pushed him over the edge.
He quickly handed Savannah off to his mother and rolled up his sleeves, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. “You seriously can’t tell who I am to her?”
“Every bit of pain you dumped on her five years ago—I’ll collect it in full right here, right now.”
Another punch landed, this time square on Grayson’s jaw, sending him flying nearly six feet across the room.
Damien’s expression darkened. He wiped the blood from his knuckles slowly and stalked toward Grayson, who was groaning on the
ground.
“I’ve been waiting years to give you those punches, Grayson. If you’re still dumb enough to crawl back after this… be my guest.”
Grayson, unwilling to back down, scrambled to his feet and lunged at Damien again. The two brawled right in the middle of the gallery until security stormed in and dragged them apart,
When it was over, Grayson’s face was swollen beyond recognition, his once–pristine white suit wrinkled and stained with blood. He
looked absolutely pathetic.
Damien, on the other hand, had nothing but a small cut on his lip–clearly the one who came out on top.
Even as he was dragged toward the door, Grayson shouted like a madman, voice hoarse with manic rage.
“As long as I’m alive, no one gets to touch her! Savannah is mine- she’s always been mine!”
Chapter 17
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Damien’s fists clenched again. The momentary calm in him shattered at those words. “I should’ve beaten you to death,” he snapped.
Mr. Shaw rushed over to grab his son. “Damien, that’s enough! You want a murder charge on your hands too?”
Back at the Shaw residence, Savannah paced the living room, worry carved into every step.
The moment she saw Damien’s bruised face, she lowered her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think he’d show up like that. This is all my fault–I dragged you into it.”
Damien frowned. He reached out and gently brushed away her tears with his thumb.
“Don’t say that.”
He paused, then purposely softened his tone. “So what, if you turn me down–am I not even your family anymore? Letting me stand up for you is kind of part of the job, you know.”
He gave her cheek a playful pinch. “Come on, silly girl. What’s with the crying?”
Savannah sniffled and nodded, trying to pull herself together. “Okay. I won’t cry. Let me get the first–aid kit.”
She dabbed ointment on the cut at the corner of his mouth, only for Damien to hiss softly.
Savannah jerked her hand back. “Did that hurt?”
He caught her wrist, pressed the swab right back to his wound, and smiled. “Not at all.”
Unable to watch her frown any longer, he cracked a grin. “Wanna guess how badass I looked today? Don’t let this little scratch fool you -I beat that bastard all the way into the ER.”
“Well? Did I avenge you or what?”
Just like when they were kids, he pulled a goofy face, baring his teeth in a ridiculous grimace.
Savannah stared at him, then finally burst into laughter through her tears. She tilted her head and said earnestly, “You were amazing.”
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