Roommates With Benefits [BL]
Chapter 198: Money Can’t Buy Sunshine

Chapter 198: Money Can’t Buy Sunshine

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[Damien Lockwood]

[A Day Earlier]

Damien was struck by just how strange his own bedroom felt to him now.

The space hadn’t really changed in three years. Every book sat neatly lined up on the polished shelves. The dark oak furniture sparkled, not a speck of dust in sight.

The bed looked like it hadn’t been touched, as if no one dared to disturb it while he was away. Even the curtains were tied back at the same angle they’d been when he was eighteen.

It seemed less like a bedroom and more like a museum exhibit dedicated to someone who didn’t exist anymore.

He zipped up his duffel bag. The soft sound of the zipper closing felt final in the silent room.

There wasn’t much to pack. He had only a few changes of clothes for the weekend, and he couldn’t wait to leave this house behind.

A sharp knock echoed against the bedroom door, cutting through the quiet with precision.

Damien didn’t look up. His hands continued their methodical task of organizing the last of his belongings into the bag.

"Come in."

The door swung open. Soft footsteps crossed the threshold, measured and unhurried.

"I was starting to think you’d jump out the window instead."

Dianne stepped in, looking immaculate as always. Today, she wore another tailored cream suit, likely costing more than most students’ semester tuition.

Her smile was pleasant, but the soft fabric of her jacket caught the light as she moved, every fold falling perfectly into place with the kind of effortless precision drilled into her since childhood.

But her eyes told a different story. The polite curve of her lips didn’t quite reach them, leaving her expression feeling incomplete.

Damien kept folding a sweater. The soft wool resisted slightly under his hands, then settled into a neat rectangle, almost as if even the clothing knew everything in this house had to be in order.

" Do you need something?"

She leaned casually against the doorway, but the way her gaze tracked his movements suggested she was anything but relaxed.

"I wanted to see if you’re actually serious."

He didn’t respond. The silence stretched long enough for the faint ticking of the hallway clock to become noticeable.

"This..." she gestured vaguely towards the bag, "...all of it."

The gesture felt light, almost dismissive, but the intensity behind her gaze was unmistakable.

She studied him for a long moment. The soft light from the window highlighted her expression, making her careful assessment more visible than she’d probably wanted.

"You’re really going to throw your life away for some boy you’ve only known for... what, five months?"

Damien paused for just a second. The sweater in his hands remained perfectly still as the weight of her question filled the space between them.

Five months, that didn’t even feel right.

Oliver had only known Damien for five months, but Damien? He’d known Oliver much longer.

For two years now, every Saturday morning, he found himself wandering into Joy’s Café for increasingly ridiculous reasons.

The comforting scent of roasted coffee and the charming clutter of that place felt more familiar than the pristine rooms of the estate he was in now.

Sometimes he’d order coffee he didn’t really want. The cup would sit untouched while he listened to the delightful chaos of the café around him.

Sometimes he’d pretend to study but just watched that grumpy barista squabble with customers over whether caramel belonged in espresso.

The sound of Oliver’s voice, became something he looked forward to more than he’d ever admitted.

Sometimes Oliver would smile at customers. That smile was rare enough to hit him like a punch to the gut.

Sometimes he’d roll his eyes, and that small gesture held more personality than most conversations Damien had grown up around.

Damien had fallen before Oliver even knew his name. It dawned on him quietly over time, settling into place just like everything else he had eventually come to understand about who he was.

"You done?" Damien asked flatly, cutting through the silence with all that old weight.

Dianne sighed dramatically, her exasperation still elegantly measured. "You really have lost your sense of humor."

"You don’t even have one to start with, so who are you to talk."

"Fair enough." She reached into the leather folder tucked under her arm, the soft rustle of papers against leather occupying the brief silence as she pulled them out.

"I actually came for something."

She placed several papers on the desk. The weight of them settling onto the polished wood felt heavier than it should have.

The Lockwood family seal gleamed on the first page, catching the light with the same cold precision that defined everything in this house.

Damien already knew what it was before he even read the title.

Relinquishment of Succession Rights.

"So Father wasn’t bluffing," she murmured.

"You know he wasn’t."

Dianne crossed her arms, the soft fabric of her sleeves shifting as she moved, remaining perfectly in place even while the tension in the room began to rise.

"He asked me to bring it to you."

Silence enveloped them again. The quiet of the bedroom felt thicker around the desk, only broken by distant footsteps echoing farther down the hall.

Then, Damien picked up the pen. The cool metal felt familiar against his fingers.

Dianne frowned, her composed expression cracking just enough to hint at real concern. "...Damien?"

He flipped to the signature page. The soft rustle of paper accompanied the pause as he found the line waiting for him.

"You’re reading it first... right?"

The pen hit the paper. The quiet scratch of ink against the page felt more final than the discussions that had led him to this moment.

His signature flowed across the line without a second thought. The neat, controlled strokes fell right into place with the same precision he had been taught to apply to everything else in his life.

He signed one page, then another...and another.

Dianne stared, the soft light from the window catching her expression as her carefully maintained composure began to fracture. "...Wait."

He kept signing. The steady rhythm of the pen remained unbroken as her voice rose behind him.

"Damien."

Another page. The soft rustling of paper followed each completed signature, the stack thinning with each deliberate stroke.

"Are you serious?!"

Another signature. The last page settled beneath the pen with the same quiet finality as the ones that had come before it.

Her voice finally cracked. The controlled tone she’d maintained until now gave way to something sharper.

"Have you actually lost your mind?!"

He calmly placed the pen back on the desk. The soft click of metal against polished wood felt almost too quiet after the force of her words.

The contract was done, the signed pages stacked neatly, the family seal on top as if nothing fundamental had just been dismantled.

"Are you even aware that you’ll lose everything?!" she snapped, the words hitting harder than her previous comments, holding the full weight of the future she believed he was about to throw away.

"The company, your inheritance, the estate, our name." she went on desperately, to be honest that was the most emotion he’d seen coming from her in nearly a decade. "You understand that, don’t you?!"