The anniversary hall glittered with wealth and elegance, filled with shareholders, business partners, and influential families. As Damian and I stepped inside, his hand holding mine firmly, I could feel eyes turning toward us. Whispers rippled through the crowd, some admiring, others filled with doubt and judgment.
Not long after, Damian was greeted warmly by several shareholders, his presence drawing people like a magnet. A few millionaires also came forward, exchanging pleasantries and handshakes with him. I stayed quietly by his side, offering polite smiles when their curious gazes shifted to me.
Then came Mr. Simon Glover with his wife and daughter, Clara.
"Mr. Damian," Mr. Glover greeted with a firm handshake and a warm smile. "It's always a pleasure seeing you."
"Good evening, Mr. Glover," Damian replied smoothly, before glancing toward me. "This is Amara."
I smiled politely. "Hello, Mr. Glover."
His eyes softened knowingly. "Ah, yes. Damian's secretary."
Mrs. Glover, however, looked at me more carefully, as though she was trying to place me. Her lips curved into a polite but uncertain smile. "Oh... I don't believe we've met before. Amara, was it? Nice meeting you, dear."
"Nice to meet you too, ma'am," I replied with a respectful nod.
Clara's gaze lingered on me, cool and dismissive. "Hello," she said shortly, her tone flat before turning her attention elsewhere.
A moment later, Mr. Glover leaned slightly toward Damian. "Mr. Damian, may I have a word with you in private?"
"Of course," Damian agreed. He turned to me with a reassuring smile. "Amara, wait here for me."
I nodded. "Alright."
As they walked away, I reached for a glass of wine from a passing waiter, trying to steady my nerves. I hadn't taken more than a sip when two women in elegant gowns approached me, their expressions sharp with mockery.
"Don't get too comfortable," one of them said with a sly smile. "You're just his secretary."
The other smirked. "He'll tire of you soon enough. Everyone knows Damian and Clara are the real match."
Their words stung, slicing through my calm façade. I gripped the glass tighter, forcing myself to stay silent. My heart sank, but I refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. When they finally walked away, laughing lightly, I exhaled shakily and whispered to myself, "Maybe I really don't belong here."
Across the hall, Damian was still deep in discussion with Mr. Glover, unaware of the exchange. But the night was far from over.
In a quiet corner, away from the curious eyes of the crowd, Mr. Simon Glover leaned toward Damian with a smile that carried both confidence and intent.
"Mr. Damian," he began, lowering his voice, "you and my daughter Clara are a perfect match. Many of us have always seen it that way."
Damian stiffened slightly, taken aback by the boldness of the statement. His brows furrowed as he prepared to respond, but before he could utter a word, the music swelled and the host announced the official start of the anniversary celebration. The crowd clapped and shifted toward the main hall, leaving Damian no choice but to pause the conversation.
He returned quickly to me, his expression serious. "Amara," he murmured, "I need to explain something to you..."
But I simply nodded, saying nothing. My silence hung heavy between us, and before either of us could speak further, Mrs. Simon walked up gracefully with Clara by her side.
"Mr. Damian," Mrs. Simon said warmly, "please, join us."
We followed her to a reserved table, elegant and glowing under the chandelier. I sat quietly as Damian took the seat assigned to him-not beside me, but directly beside Clara. My heart tightened at the sight, but I forced myself to keep my composure.
When everyone had settled, Mr. Glover cleared his throat. His voice carried authority, drawing the attention of those nearby.
"Before we proceed with signing the contract," he declared proudly, "we need to make something clear. Damian, you must officially declare Clara as your fiancée."
The words struck me like lightning. My chest tightened, and for a moment the world blurred around me. I felt as though I might faint, but I forced myself to sit upright, pretending calm even as pain clawed at me from within.
Damian's gaze darted to me, searching, but I quickly looked away. My silence said everything I could not voice.
He finally spoke, his voice low but firm. "I... I have feelings for someone else. As for Clara, things can't work out between us."
Mrs. Simon's eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, really? And who might this other woman be? Surely we deserve to know her."
The tension was unbearable. I could feel every eye at the table waiting for his answer. Before Damian could speak, I forced a smile onto my face and cut in.
"Mr. Damian would be so pleased," I said softly, my words like daggers in my own chest, "to have Clara as his fiancée."
A stunned silence followed, then Mrs. Simon's face lit up with satisfaction. "Oh, really? That's wonderful to hear!"
Clara's lips curved in a triumphant smile, while Mr. Glover nodded in approval. The conversation continued lightly after that, as though my heart hadn't just been shattered in front of them all. Eventually, one by one, they excused themselves, leaving only Damian and Clara at the table.
I rose quietly, my hands trembling as I set down my wineglass. Without a word, I walked away, the weight of unspoken pain pressing on my chest, leaving Damian and Clara alone in the glow of the celebration.
Amara couldn't bear it any longer. Her chest felt so heavy, she thought she would suffocate. Rising quietly from her seat, she excused herself and slipped away from the table. She found her way to the restroom, her legs trembling as though they would give way beneath her.
The moment the door shut behind her, she broke down completely. Tears spilled freely as she leaned against the counter, her hands gripping the cold marble for support. The image of Clara sitting so close to Damian, and Mr. Simon's firm words, replayed in her mind over and over. Her heart shattered all over again.
She covered her face, crying until her body ached, until she could no longer breathe from the weight of it all. Finally, she forced herself to the sink, washed her swollen face, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She whispered to herself, "You have to be strong, Amara. Don't let them see you weak."
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the restroom, only to freeze in shock. Damian was standing right outside the door, his tall frame tense, his eyes fixed sharply on her.
"What is the meaning of what you said back there?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with frustration.
Amara met his gaze, though her heart trembled. "I said what was needed in that moment," she replied softly. "Because of me, you cannot afford to lose such a huge contract. Not over our relationship."
Damian's jaw tightened. He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "And so? Why don't you leave the matter to me, Amara? Why do you always take the pain upon yourself? I can handle this. But can you cope with pushing me away like that?"
His words pierced her deeper than any knife. Amara lowered her gaze, unable to answer. The silence between them stretched until Damian finally shook his head in frustration. With a lingering look at her, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, broken all over again.
Amara stayed in the hallway for a while, trying to steady herself. When she finally returned to the avenue, the host's cheerful voice echoed through the hall.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we want to say a big congratulations to Mr. Damian Knight and Miss Clara Simon-Gloves for choosing a woman from the Gloves family!"
Thunderous applause erupted, the sound like sharp knives slicing through Amara's heart. She stood still among the clapping crowd, her hands frozen at her sides. Her heart broke into a thousand pieces, but she forced herself to remain composed, swallowing back the pain that threatened to destroy her.
The party dragged on until it finally ended. Guests began to leave, laughter and chatter filling the night air. Damian walked toward the exit with Clara by his side, his expression unreadable. Amara followed silently, her chest still heavy, her steps light but weighed down with sorrow.
Outside, Damian stopped by his car. He opened the passenger door, and Amara moved closer. His voice was cold when he spoke, distant, as though fighting to mask what he truly felt.
"Get inside," he told her.
Amara obeyed, slipping into the seat quietly. The silence between them was louder than any words.
Damian turned then, his sharp gaze falling on Clara. "I hope you know how you will convince your family that things can never work between us," he said firmly, his tone laced with warning. "That is for you to handle, Clara. Not me."
Clara's face stiffened at his words, but Damian didn't wait for a response. He got behind the wheel, his expression cold, and with one final glance, he started the engine. The car pulled away, leaving Clara standing in the night, her fists clenched, her pride wounded.
Beside him, Amara sat silently, her heart heavy, torn between the ache of betrayal and the lingering warmth of his words - words that hinted he still belonged only to her.