Damien's Ultimate Humiliation
"Father would never allow me to divorce that bastard, all in the name of honoring Grandfather's deal with Damien. I wish I could, but I can't." Clarissa's voice trembled, not from weakness—but from bitter resentment. The chains of duty clashed against the hunger in her chest. She didn't love Damien—she never did. And yet, here she was, shackled to a man she saw as nothing but a smudge on her perfect life.
"You can, Clarissa," Natalie leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. "And I'm going to help."
Clarissa turned to her sister-in-law, eyes wide with a flicker of hope, confusion, and cruelty all at once. "How?" she asked.
"I have a plan that'll work." Natalie's lips twisted into a slow, poisonous smile. It wasn't just a plan. It was a trap—a dagger wrapped in silk.
Hand in hand, both women walked into the grand, glowing living area. The air tightened. Damien stood beside Miranda, Evelyn, Knox, and other Langford family members. His heart skipped as he saw Clarissa approaching, her face unreadable, her beauty still breathtaking—but as cold as winter stone.
Clarissa paused, the silence sharpening the room like a blade. "I'll forgive you, Damien," she said softly. Her voice, smooth and calculated, carried more cruelty than a scream. "But under one condition."
Damien straightened, heart leaping. Was this a moment of kindness? A flicker of hope?
"What is it, Clarissa?" he asked, eyes searching hers for anything real.
She smiled sweetly, deliberately. "With tonight being my birthday," she said slowly, "I want you to be one of the waiters."
Silence.
Damien's breath hitched. His throat dried. The room tilted.
"A… waiter?" His voice cracked, the word barely escaping.
Miranda's smug smirk widened. Evelyn covered her mouth, hiding a cruel laugh. The insult was deep, precise, cutting.
"I'm your husband," Damien whispered, disoriented. "You can't mean that."
"You should feel honored," Clarissa replied smoothly. "You've offered nothing—no money, no success, no effort. You're just a leech on this family. Serve tonight, and maybe your place in this house remains."
His fists clenched by his sides, trembling. It was beyond shame. It was stripping a man of his manhood, in front of the very people who saw him as less than dirt.
Clarissa stepped in closer, her breath brushing against his cheek. Her perfume wrapped around him like smoke. "Do this," she murmured, sultry and seductive, "and tonight, I'll be all yours."
Then she kissed his cheek.
Damien froze.
Goosebumps flared across his skin. After all these years… after being treated like garbage… a single kiss from her still stirred something inside him. Hope. Need. Hunger. Was this sincerity… or was this part of the trap?
Her lips brushed his skin and pulled away. Her eyes flicked to his lips and she bit hers softly. For a second—just one second—he saw the woman he once dreamed of loving.
"Do we have a deal?" she asked, voice like frost on fire.
His nod came slowly, swallowed by shame.
Natalie, in the corner, grinned with dark delight. She knew what was coming. Tonight, Damien would be dressed like a servant—and tomorrow, discarded like trash.
By 9 p.m., the hall glittered. Crystal chandeliers hung like stars, rose arrangements perfumed the air, and every corner sparkled with luxury. Guests flooded in—billionaires, CEOs, socialites. Laughter echoed off the marble.
Damien stood before the mirror, adjusting the waiter's bow tie with shaking hands. His reflection stared back: strong frame, tired eyes, rough stubble. A man who was once proud—now reduced to nothing.
"You can do this," he whispered. "For Clarissa."
And he stepped into the crowd.
Eyes slid past him like he was invisible. No one saw a man. Just a body in uniform.
Across the room, Mr. Williams stood surrounded by top businessmen. Damien lowered his gaze, unsure whether to approach. He stayed back, lurking like a ghost.
Then Clarissa descended the staircase.
She was a vision in scarlet—dress hugging every curve, smile gleaming with power. Behind her, Natalie followed like a shadow, dressed in black chiffon. The room gasped at their beauty. Cameras flashed.
Damien's heart squeezed. For a second, he remembered the girl he once loved. He hoped… maybe tonight, after serving and enduring, she'd pull him aside. Maybe… she'd touch him again.
A voice shattered the thought.
"Waiter!" a woman barked. "Whiskey. Now."
He hesitated. Clarissa or the guest? But the deal was clear—serve everyone.
He nodded politely, picked a glass, and forced a smile. "Right away, ma'am."
Then Evelyn's voice rang, sharp and scornful. "Come here, Damien. What are you doing standing there?"
His insides twisted.
"Yes, Evelyn," he answered.
The women around her laughed behind their hands. One whispered, "Did he just call her by name?"
Evelyn's eyes darkened. "You dare address me like that? Know your place."
Damien's lips tightened. "Isn't that your name?"
Gasps fluttered. The truth had slipped out.
"You lazy, good-for-nothing! Apologize!" Evelyn snapped.
His voice stayed calm. "Lazy? You live off your sister's money. You've never lifted a finger. And you have the gut to call another person lazy. So pathetic!"
More gasps. Her friends stared at her, shocked. The truth hurt.
Evelyn's rage simmered, fists clenched, lips twitching to scream. But she swallowed it down—for now. Not today. Not on Clarissa's day.
Damien exhaled. Just one win. A small one.
Then a chill spread through the crowd. Whispers stirred the air.
"Ryder Velmont is here."
"Is that Ryder Velmont??"
"The heir to the Velmont Tower!!"
From the doors entered Ryder—flawless suit, styled hair, golden watch gleaming. The crowd parted. All eyes locked on him.
Clarissa's eyes lit up. She rushed forward, arms wide. Ryder welcomed her with ease, hand to waist, lips brushing her cheek.
Damien felt it—like knives in his chest.
Three years. Three years without a kiss from her. Without affection. And now she welcomed another man like royalty.
His heart crumbled. A thousand questions screamed. Why him? Why now?
He wanted to run to her. To demand answers. But he stayed rooted, his tray trembling in hand.
Tonight was her night.
And he was just the help.