The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 360

Chapter 164: Acquired… or Removed-3

Damien exhaled slowly, nodding once.

“Hm. Good idea, Father.”

He was already reaching for his phone again.

Maya’s hand shot out.

Her fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him mid-motion.

“Stop.”

The single word was soft-but firm.

He looked down at her, surprised.

She lifted her chin, lips pressing into a small pout she didn’t even try to hide. “Fine. I won’t go

to the concert anymore, okay?” Her voice dipped, just enough. “Are you satisfied now?”

The silence that followed was immediate.

Then-

“Wait-what?!” Harper’s voice burst through the speaker, sharp with disbelief.

Damien felt it at once.

Guilt

Instant. Unwelcome. Piercing.

“Maya…” he started, his voice lowering.

But she didn’t look at him.

She turned slightly toward the phone, lashes dropping, shoulders drawing in-small, composed, restrained. Not dramatic. Worse.

Maya may not have grown up with power or money, with the ability to shift markets or bend outcomes with a single call. She didn’t move chess pieces across continents.

But she knew how to play.

She’d learned early how to soften her voice just enough. How to pause at the right moment.

How to make disappointment look reasonable instead of loud.

164 Acquired or Removed-3

It had worked on her father.

It worked on Jamie.

And watching Damien now-she suspected it might work on him too.

Worth a try.

+25 Points

“I’m sorry, Harper,” Maya said quietly. “I’ll have to pass.” A breath. “As you heard… this is just- too much. It’s getting out of hand.” She forced a small smile into her voice. “Just take lots of photos for me, okay?”

On the other end of the line, Harper gasped.

“But-Maya,” she protested, genuinely distressed. “You said this was on your bucket list too! You wanted to see them perform live-just once!” Her words tumbled over each other. “The timing is perfect. Jamie’s operation will be done by then. He’ll be in recovery-we can go-”

Maya stayed quiet.

Across the table, Dahlia lifted her teacup again, not to drink this time-just enough to mask the faint curve of her lips.

Eleanor noticed.

Her gaze drifted from Maya’s lowered lashes to Damien’s rigid posture, then to Dahlia.

A look passed between them.

Brief. Knowing.

The kind of look women shared when they recognized strategy-not manipulation, but balanc

Eleanor’s smile was small, contained, utterly pleased.

Dahlia’s eyes softened with quiet approval.

Neither woman said a word.

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