THE BILLIONAIRE’S SHATTERED VOW

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Chapter 2 - A Collision of Worlds

The wine hit like a splash of fire across black silk. Crimson soaked through Damian Wolfe’s suit jacket, bleeding into fabric that looked custom-tailored to his very bones. For one paralyzing moment, the gala hall froze—every head swiveling, every whisper sharp as glass.

Serena’s heart stuttered. Her tray clattered against the floor, stemware shattering like her last shred of composure.

“Oh my God—” She lunged forward, fumbling for napkins, blotting uselessly at the mess. Her hands shook, every nerve in her body screaming. “I’m so, so sorry—”

“Stop.”

The word cut through her panic like a blade.

Damian Wolfe looked down at her, not with the fury she braced for, but with a terrifying stillness. His eyes—cold, piercing gray—locked onto hers as though she were the only person in the room.

The world around them buzzed with whispers.

“Who is she?”

“Waitstaff.”

“She’s finished.”

Serena’s face burned, humiliation searing hotter than the spilled wine. She straightened, napkins crumpled in her fists, expecting the blow to fall—the manager storming over, her job evaporating in front of half the city’s elite.

But Damian didn’t shout. He didn’t sneer. He simply studied her, as though she’d defied the script of his carefully controlled evening.

“You didn’t grovel,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

Serena blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t collapse at my feet. Didn’t beg.” His mouth curved, not quite a smile, more like intrigue tugging at the edges. “Interesting.”

Her throat tightened. “Look, I—this was an accident. Fire me, blacklist me, whatever. Just… don’t make a spectacle of it.”

A low chuckle left him, dark and amused. “Oh, Miss…?”

“Hayes,” she said, reluctantly. “Serena Hayes.”

“Miss Hayes,” Damian repeated, tasting the syllables like wine on his tongue. “You’ve already made a spectacle. The question is what I intend to do with it.”

Before Serena could respond, a woman’s voice sliced through the air.

“Darling!”

All eyes turned toward Isla Moreau. She glided across the floor in a gown of shimmering silver, every inch of her radiating wealth and calculation. Her hand found Damian’s arm with a practiced intimacy that made Serena instinctively step back.

“Don’t tell me this little mishap ruined your evening,” Isla purred, her gaze sliding over Serena like a knife. “Clumsy help. You’d think they’d screen them better.”

Serena’s stomach twisted, humiliation sharpening into defiance. She clenched her jaw, ready to bite back, but Damian’s low voice cut her off.

“That will be enough, Isla.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Isla’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered, leaning in close to whisper something Serena couldn’t catch.

The catering manager finally arrived, red-faced and sputtering. “Miss Hayes! You’re—”

Damian held up a hand. The man stopped mid-rant, his mouth snapping shut like a trap.

“Miss Hayes will not be dismissed,” Damian said, his tone brooking no argument. “She’s done enough for tonight. Send her home.”

Serena froze, staring at him. Why? Why spare her when he could have destroyed her with a word?

“Go,” Damian said softly, but firmly. “Before I change my mind.”

Her pulse hammered as she turned on shaky legs, leaving the fractured whispers behind her. The last thing she saw before escaping into the night was Damian Wolfe, watching her retreat with a look that unsettled her more than his anger ever could.

The city air was a balm against Serena’s burning skin. She leaned against the back wall of the hotel, breathing hard, her uniform sticky with sweat.

What the hell had just happened?

She’d expected humiliation, unemployment, maybe even blacklisting from every catering job in the city. But instead, Damian Wolfe had spared her. Not out of kindness—no, there had been nothing kind in his gaze. It was something else. Amusement. Calculation.

Like she’d just become a piece in a game she didn’t know she was playing.

Serena shoved the thought aside, pulling out her phone. One new message from her landlord blinked on the screen.

Balance unpaid. Locks changed Monday morning.

Her stomach dropped. Even if she worked double shifts for the rest of the week, she wouldn’t make enough. Not when her mother’s medication alone drained what little she earned.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she swallowed them down. No. She’d been humiliated enough tonight.

She straightened, lifting her chin to the glittering skyline. Somehow, she’d find a way. She always did.

Inside, Damian watched Serena’s figure vanish through the glass doors.

Isla’s voice dripped honey at his side. “She should be fired. You’re too lenient, Damian.”

He didn’t answer. His mind replayed the moment over and over—the flash of defiance in Serena Hayes’s eyes as she refused to crumble.

Intriguing.

Far more intriguing than anything Isla had to offer.

But Isla was useful. Her family connections, her social standing. Useful… until tonight, when she’d cornered him with her announcement to the press. An engagement he hadn’t consented to, spun into headlines that would be impossible to retract without a scandal.

The gala had been meant to cement his power. Instead, it had unraveled with the splash of a wineglass and Isla’s smug proclamation.

A problem.

But also, perhaps… an opportunity.

Damian’s lips curved faintly as his gaze lingered on the door Serena had disappeared through.

Yes. An opportunity.

Two nights later, Serena sat at the kitchen table, sketchbook open but untouched. Her mother’s cough rattled down the hallway. Bills littered the table like vultures.

The knock on the door startled her.

Too early for the landlord. Too late for a neighbor.

She opened it—and froze.

Damian Wolfe stood on her doorstep, immaculately dressed, his presence swallowing the shabby hallway whole.

Serena’s mouth went dry. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His smile was slow, deliberate, and dangerous.

“Making you an offer, Miss Hayes. One you can’t afford to refuse.”

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