Chapter 83: Ghosts of the Past
Damon’s POV
The absolute last thing I wanted to see on this earth was the twisted face of the girl who had almost completely ruined my life.
Jennifer Riley. My ex-girlfriend.
The very last time I had laid eyes on her was in a cold, suffocating courtroom. I was handed a strict restraining order to stay the fuck away from her after she had systematically framed me for a disgusting crime I didn’t even commit.
After my father paid off the insane, exorbitant fine and settled the legal mess out of court, Jennifer quietly transferred to Jenson University, moving far away from me so there would be zero chance of us bumping into each other on this campus. In court, she had played the perfect, helpless victim, faking every single sob and trembling breath, weeping about how just looking at my face would give her lifelong trauma.
That absolute, vile bitch.
It wasn’t until my father launched a thorough private investigation into her family that the dark truth came to light. Her father’s corporation was on the fast track to complete bankruptcy. They were drowning in massive debt and desperately needed millions in quick cash. So, Jennifer and her greedy father collaborated to set me up, framing me for a staged sexual assault. They drained my family for ten million dollars in a quiet settlement and slapped me with a restraining order to seal the deal. That was supposed to be the end of it. That was supposed to be the last time I ever saw her face.
Yet here she was, standing right in front of me in the side hallway of my own university, smiling like nothing had ever happened.
Every single muscle in my body locked up. I held myself back with every ounce of willpower I possessed from stepping forward and smashing my fist straight into her lying face.
’It’s been a long time?’ The words echoed in my head, making my blood boil with pure, unfiltered rage. My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides, my knuckles turning stark white as my jaw locked tight.
"Why the fuck are you here?" I asked, my voice dropping into a deadly, icy whisper. "You haven’t forgotten about that damn restraining order, have you?"
"Babe..." she mumbled softly, taking a slow, delicate step closer toward me, her eyes brimming with calculated innocence.
BANG!
Before she could take another step, I slammed my heavy fist straight into the concrete wall right beside her head. The deafening crack echoed violently down the empty metallic corridor.
Jennifer flinched hard, her body jumping as she froze dead in her tracks, her face turning pale.
"If you take one more step, it’s your head next," I threatened, my teeth gritted so hard they nearly shattered.
Her lips parted, trembling as if she was trying to speak, but she quickly snapped her mouth shut. She swallowed hard, forced a pathetic shudder through her shoulders, and clasped her small hands tightly across her chest. Right on cue, fake, gleaming tears began streaming down her cheeks.
"I know I did something terrible, Damon," she whimpered, letting her voice break with practiced perfection. "I know I hurt you. I can’t apologize enough for what happened back then..."
Ha. This bitch was really, truly pushing her fucking luck today. She had no idea how close I was to snapping her neck. She had no idea how much her sickening lie had dragged my reputation through the mud for months. I was only grateful that a few of my closest teammates and my family knew the real truth and never believed a single word out of her mouth.
"Get the fuck away from me, Jennifer Riley," I rasped out, the hatred in my chest threatening to choke me.
But she didn’t move an inch away. Instead, she took another small, trembling step forward, her eyes locked onto mine as if she was waiting for me to suddenly melt, forgive her, and return her hollow, fake feelings.
"I know how much you loved me back then, Damon," she murmured, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "And I loved you too. I still do. If you don’t mind..."
She closed the remaining distance between us, her long fingers reaching out to touch my arm. Her hand trailed slowly from my broad shoulder all the way down to my waist. She leaned her soft body directly against mine, wrapping her slender arms tightly around my torso.
"Let’s get back together, Damon," she whispered right against my chest. "If you just say yes right now, I’ll drop my classes at Jenson University and transfer straight back here today. We can be together again. I still love you so much."
"Love?" I asked quietly.
A second later, a dark, hysterical laugh burst right out of my throat, ringing loudly off the hard walls.
Jennifer’s eyes widened in confusion. She quickly pulled her body back, lifting her tear-stained face to look up at me, clearly expecting me to embrace her.
Before she could process the look of pure disgust on my face, my hand shot out like a lightning strike. My long, powerful fingers clamped tightly around her throat.
I squeezed her neck hard, lifting her slightly onto her tiptoes. Her eyes flared with genuine shock and terror. She instantly abandoned her fragile act, her hands frantically flailing through the air as she began violently slapping and clawing at my forearm, desperately trying to break my grip.
"D-Damon..." she choked out, her face turning a dark shade of red as her airway was cut off. "I... I can’t... breathe..."
"If I were the old, foolish Damon from two years ago, I might have actually fallen for your pathetic, cheap tricks," I said, my voice dangerously low as I pulled her bruised neck closer to my face. "No... wait. I doubt even the old me was dumb enough to fall for this recycled bullshit twice. But guess what, Jennifer?"
Tears of real, unadulterated terror finally spilled over her eyes, trailing down her flushed cheeks as her nails dug desperately into my wrist.
"I’ve completely lost interest in fake, treacherous bitches like you," I whispered directly into her ear, my tone cold enough to freeze blood. "Something else entertains me now. Actually... not something. I meant... someone."
Jennifer gritted her teeth through her choking gasps, her eyes flashing with a sudden, bitter rage. "If you don’t let go of me right now..." she managed to squeak out, attempting to pull another dry, empty threat from her throat.
I didn’t even bother letting her finish her sentence. With a sharp, disgusted grunt, I shoved her backward with all my strength.
Her back slammed hard against the cold concrete wall, her breath rushing out of her in a loud gasp as she crumpled to the floor, coughing violently while clutching her bruised throat.
Without throwing a single glance back at her pathetic form, I turned on my heel and began walking briskly down the corridor.
Tap-tap-tap-tap!
Just before I reached the far corner leading back toward the main arena, the faint, frantic sound of rushing footsteps echoed from around the bend, fading quickly into the distance.
I froze, my dark eyes narrowing into sharp slits.
Someone was standing near the corner, listening to our entire conversation.
A sudden surge of annoyance flared in my chest. I broke into a rapid stride, rounding the corner and rushing through the heavy double doors into the brightly lit ice rink arena. But the moment I stepped out into the open space, I was greeted by a wall of deafening noise. The bleachers were completely packed with hundreds of shouting students, visiting players, faculty members, and media crews walking around with gear. The crowd was a chaotic, moving sea of bodies. It was completely impossible to tell who had been standing in that quiet hallway listening to us.
Fuck.
My mood was completely ruined. The mere presence of that gold-digging bitch had left a foul, sour taste in my mouth, making my fractured ribs throb with a dull, irritating ache.
I swept my gaze across the crowded sidelines, ignoring the roaring cheer of the audience as the home team skated out onto the ice for warmups. I searched the technical zones, looking past the coaches and bench warmers, until my eyes locked onto a small, familiar figure sitting near the lower media platform.
It was Micah.
He was sitting on a low folding chair, wearing Noah’s ridiculously oversized jacket that made him look tiny. A heavy DSLR camera was hanging loosely around his neck, his small hands carefully adjusting the lens focus while his wide, expressive eyes scanned the ice in deep concentration.
The dark storm cloud hovering over my mind instantly evaporated. A slow, genuine grin creeped up onto my face, erasing the irritation from my features.
Forget about Jennifer. Forget about the spy. My sweet, fragile little liar was sitting right over there, completely unaware of the world around him.
Ignoring the sharp twinge in my ribs, I adjusted my jacket, turned away from the player tunnel, and began making my way down the bleacher steps straight toward him, ready to take the empty seat right beside him.