The Billionaire's Intern (Maya Thompson) novel Chapter 76

Chapter 41 Where the Storm Stills-2

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Chapter 41: Where the Storm Stills-2

Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to look at it anymore.

She placed the phone face-down on the bedside table, pushing it away like it was something too fragile to hold.

Curling beneath the covers, her heart continued its frantic rhythm in the dark, echoing louder than any words.

Then-her phone lit up once.

She snatched it, breath held.

Harper: I’m home!

Maya groaned softly into her pillow, the quiet stillness of the hospital room wrapping around her like a fragile shield.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, in the dimly lit private dining room of Rivage

The wine was fine. The food was impeccable. The client was important.

And Damien couldn’t focus on a single damn word.

His phone sat silent on the table beside his wine glass. His thumb kept drifting toward it, eyes flicking to the lock screen every other minute.

James noticed-but said nothing. As usual.

Damien wasn’t just distracted.

He was agitated. Jealous. Stupidly hopeful. Then resentful for feeling hope at all.

By the time dessert was served, the client noticed his distance. But Damien didn’t care.

He gave the signal. James stood. The meeting wrapped.

The moment Damien was in the backseat of his car, the dark, bitter edge of his mood sharpened.

He needed an outlet.

“Tell Ashcroft to get the usual ready, I’m coming over.” he said coldly. “I don’t care how fragile the bastard is. Make sure he still knows pain.”

James’s face didn’t move. He simply nodded and texted the command.

* Chapter 41. Where the Storm Stills-2

Beckett, still breathing-barely-wasn’t going to be spared.

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Ashcroft had his own twisted system of punishment. He’d ordered his men to deliver one part of Beckett to him each day-starting with fingers, then eyes, ears, toes, arms, legs… even kidneys, probably. Anything Beckett had in pairs, Ashcroft wanted one gone. And Damien, though not the one giving the order, didn’t object. Not this time. Not for him.

What was left of him existed only because Damien allowed it.

And tonight… Damien needed to hurt something.

The car pulled forward.

He stared out the window, letting the silence pool between them.

Just as the fire sharpened inside him –

Ding.

The private phone lit up on his lap.

Damien froze.

Then slowly, he picked it up.

One message. From her.

Hi. I just wanted to say thank you.

For everything… it meant more than I can say. I hope you’re having a good night.

His grip tightened around the phone.

For a second, he didn’t move. Just stared at the screen, re-reading the words as if they might change.

Then, without meaning to… a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Subtle. Quiet. Real.

He didn’t even notice it forming.

But James did-from the rearview mirror, eyes flicking up just long enough to catch the impossible: Damien Blackwood, smiling like a man who’d just been handed salvation.

He stared at the message again.

“Meant more than I can say.”

What did she really mean by that?

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