“You were off during your broadcast earlier,” he went on, flinging the remote onto the sofa. “You didn’t even acknowledge me or the company. I told you specifically to push the partnership segment. What was that supposed to mean?”
I stood there in my work attire, my makeup slightly smudged from hours on air. I blinked at him slowly. “I don’t know,” I answered in a low voice. “I guess… I just didn’t feel like talking about it anymore.”
His expression hardened immediately. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”
I swallowed, forcing myself to stay steady. “I said I’m exhausted, Damien. I’m tired of reporting about your company, your deals, pretending everything is objective when it’s not. I can’t keep doing this.”
The air between us turned sharp, suffocating. He stepped closer, disbelief quickly turning into anger.
“Do you even realize what you’re saying?” he snapped. “Who do you think gave you that program? That prime slot you’ve been dreaming about? Me, Clara. I built your career. I fund your show, your network contract—everything you have right now comes from me!”
His words hit harder than I expected. For a long time, I had mistaken that control for care. I thought his influence meant he believed in me. But hearing it now, I finally saw it clearly—it was never support. It was ownership dressed as love.
And maybe that was what he liked most.
Control.
I looked straight at him, my voice shaking. “I never asked you for any of it. You chose to give it. And now… I don’t want it anymore.”
I barely finished speaking when his hand struck my face.
The impact echoed through the room. My head turned with the force, and I staggered back, one hand flying to my cheek. The sting burned, but what hurt more was the fact that it came from him.
For a split second, even Damien looked stunned—like he didn’t expect himself to cross that line. His eyes widened, his mouth parted slightly, but no words followed.
A metallic taste filled my mouth. I exhaled shakily, then let out a quiet, broken laugh.
“Let’s get a divorce.”
He froze. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
He gave a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head. “Over this? One argument, Clara? Are you serious right now?”
“I am.”
His tone sharpened again, rising. “And where exactly do you think you’ll go? You think your career survives without me? Without my name, my funding, my company backing your network?”