Too Late to Grovel, Mr. Vance

Damian Vance loved punishing me. Like that time I accidentally brushed against his precious Chloe's designer jacket. In return, he forced me to watch as the private hospital cut off my little sister’s life-saving treatment. I dropped to my knees in the sterile hospital corridor, slamming my forehead against the freezing floor until I was bleeding and bruised, begging for an ounce of mercy from him and Chloe. "It was just pausing her funding for a few days to teach her a lesson for ruining my jacket," Chloe had scoffed, twirling her hair. "She’s not going to drop dead. Why is she being so dramatic?" When Lily finally drew her last breath, the last piece of my heart died with her. I packed my life away and told him we were over. That was the moment he completely lost his mind, begging me to stay. God never listened to my prayers. Lily was dead. When I stepped back into the penthouse from the hospital, Chloe was flushed, perched on Damian's lap while his fingers gently massaged her bare calf. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, unnatural crimson. Part of it was embarrassment, sure. But mostly, it was pure ecstasy. Seeing me in the doorway, Damian stopped his hands, his brows furrowing in disgust. "Where the hell have you been? You look like someone just died." Damian Vance was brilliant as always. He managed to hit the nail right on the head. Before I could open my mouth, Chloe leaned into Damian’s ear, her voice trembling with breathless intimacy. "Damian... my legs are so weak. I can barely stand." Damian’s gaze had been locked onto my face—pale as a ghost, utterly drained of life—but a single whisper from Chloe dragged his attention straight back to her. Sensing her advantage, Chloe kept her voice sweet and dripping with honey, like nails on a chalkboard: "Harper won't be mad, will she? Damian and I just got back from the beach house, and my legs are completely sore. I'm just borrowing your couch for a little while." Was it the couch she was enjoying, or Damian? I dug deep to keep my breathing steady, ignoring how she subtly shifted her hips against him. And Damian’s unmistakable reaction. So that was it. While Lily was flatlining, the endless ringing calls that kept getting clicked to voicemail were because he was tangled up in bed with Chloe. About a week ago, I had returned from the clinic and saw a woman’s coat tossed carelessly over the living room sofa. Assuming I had left it there in my morning rush, I reached down to move it. The very next second, Chloe stepped out of my bedroom wearing my silk pajama set, shrieking as if I were holding a knife to her throat. "Oh my god! That coat is haute couture! Don't ruin it with your dirty hands!" I couldn't help the venom in my voice. "Funny, considering you seem to love wearing other people’s things. That pajama set you're wearing wasn't cheap either." Chloe’s expression turned venomous in an instant. The retribution came swiftly. When I woke up the next morning, the penthouse was deserted. Minutes later, the hospital called. Damian had pulled the plug on Lily’s experimental trial and ordered the doctors to halt all specialized care. The private medical center was heavily funded by Damian. It had the most advanced life-support technology and world-class specialists, but they only took orders from him. I raced to the hospital in hysterics, only to find Lily writhing in agony, crying out for pain relief they refused to administer. I grabbed the coat of every doctor who walked past her door. I fell to my knees, slamming my forehead against the cold tile, begging them to save my baby sister. Not a single soul stopped. I knew Damian was the only one who held her life in his hands. Collapsed on the hallway floor, I dialed his number over and over again with trembling hands. Every single call went straight to voicemail. Three days later, Lily was gone. While I was drowning in the darkest agony of my life, he was enjoying a romantic coastal getaway with Chloe, ignoring my very existence. Ever since Chloe returned from Europe, she had practically moved into our penthouse under the excuse that her luxury condo wasn’t ready yet. I had endured watching her flirt with my man right in front of me. I had endured her treating me like her personal maid in my own home. I had even swallowed Damian letting her humiliate and degrade me, forgiving him every single time he abandoned me for her. But this time, I could never forgive him. He had signed my sister's death warrant just because Chloe pouted over a piece of clothing. He knew! He knew damn well that if Lily’s treatment stopped, she would die. And yet he still did it. All because I touched his golden girl’s jacket and ruined her mood. "Go draw a bath for Chloe," Damian said without even glancing up, his voice effortlessly commanding. There were only three people in this room. Who the hell did he think he was ordering around? I dug my nails into my palms until the skin broke, desperate to anchor myself. "Damian, we’re done. I'm leaving you." "From this second on, we are strangers. And I don't owe you a single thing anymore."Even though I tried my hardest to choke back the tears, my voice still shook. I didn't wait for his reaction. I turned on my heel and headed straight to the bedroom to pack. I had very few belongings. Everything fit into a single carry-on suitcase, mainly because Damian had never liked me cluttering his minimalist space with my presence. When my eyes caught the small handcrafted clay figurine Lily had made for me, the tears finally spilled over. It was the only tangible memory she had left behind for me in this world. Wheeling my bag past the living room, I saw Damian had already pushed Chloe off his lap. He stood there, glaring at me with dark irritation. "Did I say you could leave, Harper?" "Have you forgotten your place? You think you can just come and go from my house whenever you please?" "Harper, the second you step foot out that front door is the second your sister ends up in a body bag." I froze. A stabbing, suffocating pain pierced my chest. Damian knew my weakness better than anyone. He knew that as long as Lily was alive, I was shackled to him. I would obey his every whim and take whatever abuse he dished out, which was why he felt so entirely comfortable breaking me over and over for Chloe. Too bad for him, I didn't have a weakness anymore. Lily had already been turned to ashes. And along with her, every shred of hope between us had burned away. Seeing me stand there in silence, Damian assumed he had put the leash back around my neck. He raised his chin, speaking in that arrogant, royal tone: "I gave you an order. Go run Chloe's bath, and I might just overlook this pathetic tantrum." He sounded as if he were bestowing a divine blessing, expecting me to fall to my knees in gratitude. I stared at him, cold and detached, and let out a dry laugh. "Are you going deaf in your twenties, Damian? I said we are over. Before you bark orders at me again, look in the mirror and ask yourself if you're even worthy." Damian froze. I had never, in all the years we had been together, spoken to him like that. Back when I needed him to save my sister, every word out of my mouth had been subservient, gentle, and eager to please. His handsome face darkened ominously. "Harper, you know damn well my patience has limits." Of course I knew. He never had an ounce of patience for me. We hardly ever fought, strictly because I was terrified of making him angry. Every single cold war ended with me swallowing my pride, crawling back like a starving stray just to get a scrap of his attention. When we first started dating, we traveled abroad together. Because I ate too slowly and tested his patience, he literally stood up and walked away, abandoning me in the middle of a foreign city where I didn't even speak the language. After that day, I forced myself to finish every meal in minutes. Damian seemed to have reserved all his gentleness and patience exclusively for Chloe. No matter what ungodly hour it was, a single call from her would have him rushing through pouring rain to be by her side. Even if Chloe took hours to finish a tiny salad, he would sit beside her in quiet devotion, staring at her with pure tenderness. Chloe, never one to miss an opportunity to stir the pot, chimed in with a look of mock concern. "Harper, how could you be so ungrateful? You rely on Damian to keep your sister alive, and yet you're throwing around breakup threats? That's the ultimate red flag in a relationship." I scoffed. "And what the hell are you? Shouldn't you be popping champagne right now? You finally get to move into the Vance estate full-time." Her face twisted for a fraction of a second before she bit her lower lip, eyes welling up with delicate tears. "I’m so sorry, Harper. If I said something wrong, I apologize..." She walked toward me, pretending to smooth things over, but as she reached out, her wrist deliberately caught the clay figurine I was holding. *Smash.* The ceramic shattered against the Italian marble floor with a sharp, sickening crack. In that split second, I caught the malicious, triumphant glint in her eyes. "Oh no! I didn't see it!" Chloe spun around to Damian, pouting. "Wait... was this cheap piece of junk a gift from you, Damian? I didn't know you were that stingy with Harper." The moment those mocking words left her mouth, every ounce of rational thought evaporated from my mind. *SLAP!* The sharp crack echoed through the cavernous penthouse.A bright red handprint blossomed across Chloe's cheek. Damian stood frozen for barely a second before his foot lashed out, kicking me hard into the floor. The broken clay shards dug viciously into my back. He shielded Chloe behind him, his eyes boring into me with lethal, venomous fury. "Harper, have you lost your mind? How dare you put your hands on her!" Chloe clutched her face, tears streaming down like a broken faucet. "I didn't mean to drop it! I thought it was a cheap gift you bought her, and I was just trying to defend her! How much does that trash cost? I'll pay for it, I'll pay double!" I tilted my head up, fighting with everything I had to keep my tears from falling. "You'll pay for it? With what?" Lily was gone. That figurine was the last piece of her left on this earth. Damian let out a cruel, mocking laugh. "A child’s worthless craft project? I'll pay you a thousand times what it's worth. Does that satisfy you?" With that, he yanked me up by my arm, then snatched up the largest surviving piece of the figurine. Right in front of my face, he hurled it against the wall, smashing Lily’s smiling likeness into pulverized dust. Sharp debris sliced across my hands, warm blood welling up immediately. It looked just like the day she flatlined. I forgot the physical pain entirely. Dropping to my knees like a lunatic, I began frantically scooping every jagged fragment into my chest. Seeing me like this, Damian didn't hesitate. He kicked me away like a nuisance. Then, right before my eyes, he kicked the scattered pieces of my sister’s soul across the room, scattering them into vents and under heavy furniture like common garbage. "Now," he towered over me, his voice icy and merciless. "Get on your knees and apologize to Chloe. Right now." Crying silently, I crawled on all fours across the floor, hunting for tiny shards in the corners. Sharp edges slashed into my fingers, but I felt numb to the pain, desperately gathering them against my bloody chest. Damian marched over, his fingers fisting into my hair and violently yanking my head back. "Harper, did you go deaf?" My tears mingled with the blood on my face. An ocean of suffocating regret and hatred consumed me. I was useless. I couldn't even protect the one thing my baby sister had left behind. My scalp screamed with pain under his grip, but I forced my head up, staring directly into his eyes with nothing but pure, unadulterated disgust and burning hatred. Damian flinched. For a fleeting second, it was as if my gaze burned his hand; his grip loosened instinctively. In the heavy, suffocating silence, Damian let go of my hair, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach down and help me up. Before he could move, Chloe cried out, "Ah! It hurts so bad... Damian, look at my cheek, is it swelling? Am I going to look hideous?" Damian's attention snapped instantly back to Chloe. The violent red handprint on her fair skin was undeniable. Whatever fleeting flicker of guilt he had just felt evaporated, replaced entirely by protective rage. "Harper, I'm giving you one last chance. Apologize. On your knees." "Do you really think I will?" I glared at him, unflinching. Damian scoffed, his voice dripping with arrogance and threat. "You're free to refuse. Just remember who pays for your sister’s life." Looking at him standing there so smugly, I suddenly started to laugh. A broken, hysterical chuckle bubbled up from my throat, tears spilling uncontrollably down my cheeks. I was dying inside, and he didn't have a single clue. A flicker of unease crossed Damian’s face. "What the hell are you laughing at?" "I’m laughing at how pathetic you are," I sneered, my voice dripping with contempt. "I'm laughing at how blind, deaf, and utterly heartless you are! Damian Vance, do you really think I'm still the same desperate Harper from before? The stray dog who drops everything and crawls to your feet the second you whistle?" I paused, staring straight through him. "Doesn't the hospital staff report every single detail to you? Maybe if you spent less time wining and dining another woman, you'd actually check your voicemails instead of using such a laughably stupid threat against me." If Lily were still alive, let alone kneeling, I would have thrown myself off a cliff without hesitation if he asked. But Lily was dead. He had lost his only leverage over me. I would die before I ever bowed to him again. Before Damian could react, Chloe cut in defensively, "Damian and I just went away to clear his head because you make him miserable every single day!" She turned to Damian, planting seeds of doubt. "Her sister probably recovered already! Or maybe she was never that sick to begin with! Otherwise, how could she possibly act like this? It's all an act to manipulate you." Lily’s condition had deteriorated rapidly. The morphine had stopped working, leaving her screaming in agony through the nights, while I spent weeks without sleeping more than an hour. Damian had known all of that. He knew precisely how close to death she was. And yet, he didn't correct Chloe. Instead, he delivered his final ultimatum. "Harper, I said it once, and I won't repeat myself. Get on your knees and apologize, and your sister gets to live." "Her life is in your hands." "Apologizing is out of the question," I smiled, the hatred in my eyes burning brighter than ever. "Do whatever the hell you want." My total defiance finally shattered Damian’s composure. He let out a dark, sinister chuckle. "I actually went out of my way to fly in the top specialist team from Mayo Clinic for her. As long as you were obedient, I was going to let them resume her care." "But you chose to bite the hand that feeds you. Clearly, I've been far too soft on you. Don't come crawling back crying when it's too late." With a smug expression, he pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and threw me a mocking glance. "Last chance." I knew what he wanted. He was waiting for me to break, to throw myself at his feet and beg. "You really look like a clown right now," I taunted, leaning into it. Damian’s thumb froze above the screen. I almost wanted him to press call faster. I wanted to see the look on his face when his pathetic little kingdom crumbled. I was sick to death of seeing him stand on his high horse, holding my sister’s life over my head. Seeing that I had zero intention of begging, Damian’s hand tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned bone-white. With a cold snarl, he hit dial and put it on speaker. "Send the specialist team packing. Effective immediately, stop all medical interventions for Harper’s sister." His voice was chilled to the bone, delivered with the casual indifference of a god deciding a mortal’s fate. I wondered if he had used that exact same tone the day he signed her death warrant. The line went completely dead for a moment. Then, the medical director’s hesitant, terrified voice broke through the speaker: "B-But... Mr. Vance... Miss Harper’s sister passed away three days ago. Per your direct orders to cease all critical care."