Chapter 158: Rich People Need Therapy
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[Damien Lockwood]
The annual Autumn Gala was everything Damien despised about the elite crowd.
Crystal chandeliers cast a warm golden glow over glossy marble floors, lending an air of artificial allure designed to make everything seem better than it was.
Elegant music floated through the ballroom in carefully curated waves. The air was thick with the mingled scents of high-end perfume, aged wine, and that unique tension found in people terrified of being seen as anything less than what they were born into.
Men in tailored suits exchanged handshakes they would rather avoid, smiled at those they intended to undermine come morning, and discussed business with the kind of practiced sincerity that had been hammered into them since childhood.
Meanwhile, women delivered compliments with flawless timing, their eyes communicating three sentences before their mouths caught up. Everywhere Damien looked, someone was meticulously crafting an impression.
To anyone on the outside, the Autumn Gala screamed elegance.
But for Damien, who had lived in this world his entire life, it felt more like an extravagant performance with no breaks.
"Damien!"
He slowed just enough to pinpoint the voice...another familiar name, another set of questions he could predict.
"Your father couldn’t make it tonight?"
"He sends his regards."
"That expansion project... I’d been meaning to ask—"
"I’ll let him know you were inquiring."
A handshake followed, along with a smile his face produced without him even thinking about it.
He navigated through the conversation so quickly it was like he was just moving on autopilot, making his way toward the back of the ballroom with the deliberate pace of someone who had mastered the art of exiting conversations while appearing engaged.
He hadn’t shown up to network. He hadn’t come out of desire. There was a very specific reason he was there, and it had nothing to do with the expansion project, family messages, or the excellent champagne he was passing up because he needed to think clearly.
Jeremy Abernathy would be at the Autumn Gala. Everyone with a significant family name was there, it was practically obligatory.
And Damien had a conversation that needed to happen face-to-face.
Finding Jeremy wasn’t tough. He had that certain charisma that drew attention without even trying, standing near the balcony doors, surrounded by a small group of young heirs, laughing about something, swirling a glass of sparkling water with an easy confidence that showed he was wholly unfazed by all the effort those around him were putting in.
Dark charcoal suit, perfectly tailored without calling attention to itself. Dirty blond hair styled just right.
Damien took a moment to watch from a distance.
Jeremy had a charm that didn’t rely on a script. It was the kind that unfolded in the spaces between words, in the way he smiled before a joke landed, in how he remembered your words from just minutes ago and mirrored them back, making you feel genuinely heard. Damien had seen it work on countless others for years.
It was a remarkable trait in a friend.
But a lot less welcome in someone who had clearly been quietly and systematically inserting himself into Oliver’s schedule under nothing but lies.
He waited until Jeremy detached from the group, then followed him into the quieter hallway leading to the balcony terrace.
"Jeremy."
Jeremy turned. The slow grin that spread across his face signaled someone who had been expecting this moment and already had a plan in mind.
"Well. Look who it is, Damien Lockwood." His eyes scanned Damien’s expression with the ease of someone evaluating a situation. "You look like you’ve been practicing that look."
Damien didn’t smile back. "We need to talk."
Jeremy looked down the empty hallway, giving the area a quick once-over, then shrugged. "I figured we’d get to this eventually."
The silence lingered. Outside, the gala continued, the music, the clinking of glasses, the soft hum of a hundred carefully curated conversations. In here, it was just the two of them.
"What exactly are you planning with Oliver?"
Jeremy blinked, putting on a face of innocence. "Oliver?"
"Don’t play dumb."
"What?"
"You know exactly who I’m talking about, and you know why I’m asking."
Jeremy leaned against the wall, arms folded casually, settling into what felt like a conversation he’d already rehearsed. "He’s my tutor."
"Stop pretending. You’re good at a lot of things, but this isn’t one of them."
"I wasn’t aware tutoring had become illegal."
"It hasn’t." Damien took a single measured step closer. "But fabricating your academic record to gain access to someone changes the nature of things."
For the first time that night, Jeremy’s confident smile faltered, just for a moment, a fleeting flicker of something unguarded crossed his face before he regained composure. "...You found out."
"I did."
Jeremy let out a soft, impressed whistle. "I underestimated you. That’s kinda embarrassing."
"You lied."
"I exaggerated."
"You made up failing grades to secure Oliver as your tutor."
"How did you even figure that out? Impressive." Jeremy tilted his head. "When you lay it out like that, I sound way more calculated than I actually am...yikes."
"You manipulated your way onto his schedule," Damien stated evenly, calm as ever, which was its own message. "Why?"
Jeremy regarded him for a moment, the amusement fading to something more genuine.
"Wow...I didn’t think you’d care this much," he said, quieter now. "At least not this soon."
Damien remained silent.
"You’ve never involved yourself like this over someone before," Jeremy continued, probing. "You’ve never cared this much about any of your other friends. Honestly, you barely tolerate most of us on a good day."
A pause. "This is different."
Still nothing from Damien.
Jeremy chuckled softly to himself.
"At the start, I was just curious." He pushed off the wall, leaning into the conversation. "You kept leaving early. Every event, every gathering, every invite you usually considered, you were out by ten, sometimes nine. Something had your attention in a way that nothing else ever seemed to."
He gestured casually. "So naturally, I wanted to find out what it was."
Damien’s jaw twitched slightly.
"Then I met that little roommate of yours, Oliver. Then it all made perfect sense to me."