Damian's POV

The clinking of cutlery against porcelain was more irritating than any board meeting. My mother had the company's symbol embroidered onto every linen napkin. The same symbol was stamped on the plates, the glasses, even the damn napkin rings. We were literally surrounded by our legacy.

The weekly dinner at my parents' house was a ritual. It was almost a ceremony. Everyone was there. My father, William Winter, or WW as I usually call him when he gets on my nerves, was in an Armani