At the police station, the air was tense. Clara sat across from two officers, her arms folded tightly, her eyes narrowed with practiced innocence.
"Miss Clara," one officer said firmly, "we have witnesses who saw Amara kidnapped. The car was traced, and your name came up in connection. Do you have anything to say?"
Clara let out a bitter laugh, tossing her hair back. "Are you serious? You think I had time to plan something like that? I was at work. You can check the cameras if you like."
Her tone was sharp, confident-almost rehearsed.
The officer leaned forward. "You've had personal issues with Amara before, isn't that correct?"
Clara smirked. "Personal issues? You mean office gossip? Don't tell me you're wasting tax money chasing stories. Unless you have proof, officer, I suggest you let me call my lawyer."
Within minutes, her lawyer arrived, smooth-talking his way through the conversation. With no direct evidence tying her to the crime, Clara walked out with her head held high, her lips curling into a secretive smile.
Meanwhile, Serena was in another interrogation room, facing the same questions. Unlike Clara, her nerves betrayed her. Her voice shook, and her eyes darted away every time Amara's name was mentioned.
"Miss Serena," the officer pressed, "we know you and Clara have been in close contact. This kidnapping wasn't random."
"I-I don't know what you're talking about," Serena stammered, clutching her hands together. "I had nothing to do with this. I don't even know those thugs!"
"Then why were you seen meeting with Clara multiple times in the past week?"
Her heart pounded, but before the officer could press further, Serena's lawyer entered, demanding her release. Just like Clara, Serena walked free, the smirk of relief on her lips hiding the malice in her eyes.
But the thugs-the ones who carried out the kidnapping-weren't so lucky. No amount of threats or pleas could stop the charges against them. They refused to mention Clara or Serena, staying silent even as the officers pressed them hard. In the end, the men were sentenced to prison, while the true masterminds slipped through the cracks.
When Eric called Damian to update him, his voice was tight with frustration. "Boss... the thugs are behind bars. But Clara and Serena? They're out. Their lawyers got them released."
Damian's jaw clenched, his fist tightening around the steering wheel as he sat outside the hospital. His eyes burned with fury.
"No evidence?" he repeated slowly, his voice like steel.
"That's right," Eric replied grimly. "The criminals won't talk. They're protecting them."
Damian's breath came out hard and controlled, but the storm raging inside him was unmistakable. His eyes darkened, his voice low and lethal.
"They think they can touch what's mine and walk away?" he muttered. "No... this isn't over. They've started a war they'll regret."
And though Amara rested in the hospital, unaware of the battle brewing outside those walls, Damian had already made his decision.
Serena and Clara would not escape him forever.
Clara's heels clicked against the pavement as she walked briskly out of the police station, her lawyer at her side. The cool night air hit her face, but it didn't soothe the fire burning in her chest. She was furious-not because she had been questioned, but because she had almost been caught.
Sliding into her car, she pulled out her phone and typed a quick message.
Clara: Let's stop seeing each other for now. They're starting to suspect us. We can't afford to get sloppy.
The reply came almost instantly.
Serena: I know. I was shaking in there. If they had pressed harder, I don't know what I would've done. But Clara... what if Damian finds out the truth? He's not someone we should play with.
Clara rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a cold smile as she typed back.
Clara: Don't be pathetic. Damian may be smart, but without evidence, he can't touch us. The police have nothing. The thugs won't talk. As long as we keep our distance, we're safe.
Serena hesitated before responding.
Serena: Safe? He almost killed those men when he found Amara. Do you know what he'll do if he learns we're behind this?
For a moment, Clara didn't answer. Her fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she stared out at the city lights. Then, slowly, she typed:
Clara: That's why we wait. We'll be patient, Serena. Amara won't always have him by her side. One mistake, one moment alone... and she'll be gone. For good.
Serena's hands trembled as she read the message, but she forced herself to reply with a simple:
Serena: Fine. But I'm warning you-if this backfires, you're on your own.
Clara smirked, her eyes gleaming with dangerous determination.
Clara: It won't backfire. Trust me.
She tossed the phone aside and started her engine, her mind already plotting the next move.
Two days later, the sterile smell of the hospital was finally behind them. Damian had insisted on handling every detail of Amara's discharge himself, from signing the papers to making sure the doctor gave them the best care instructions. He held her hand as they walked out, his other arm wrapped protectively around her waist, as if the world outside might try to steal her away again.
Eric had driven them home in the sleek black car, but Damian never once let go of her hand during the ride. Amara leaned against his shoulder, her body still sore but her heart feeling lighter. She could sense the storm of emotions inside him-the anger at Clara and Serena, the fear he had almost lost her, and the tenderness he could no longer hide.
When they reached the mansion, Damian lifted her into his arms despite her protest.
"Damian, I can walk," she said softly, her cheeks flushing.
"I know," he murmured, pressing a kiss against her forehead. "But you're carrying my child now. You don't get to argue with me about this."
Her heart skipped as he said it out loud again-my child. The words wrapped around her like a warm blanket. She buried her face in his chest, inhaling his scent as he carried her up the stairs like she was the most precious treasure in the world.
Inside their bedroom, he set her gently on the bed, then knelt down to remove her shoes one by one. Amara tried to stop him, embarrassed by the way he fussed over her, but he only smiled.
"Let me spoil you," he whispered. "I almost lost you. Don't take this away from me."
Her throat tightened with emotion. She reached out, cupping his cheek. "You didn't lose me. I'm here, Damian. I'm not going anywhere."
His eyes darkened, not with anger but with something deeper-vulnerability. For a moment, the powerful, untouchable billionaire looked like a man stripped bare, afraid of losing the one thing he couldn't buy or control.
He leaned forward, pressing his lips to her palm, then moved up to kiss her wrist, her arm, until finally his lips brushed hers. The kiss was slow, lingering, filled with promises unspoken.
When he pulled back, he laid his hand gently over her stomach. "This... this is our beginning, Amara. Our family. I swear to you, no one will ever hurt you or our baby again."
Amara blinked back tears, nodding. "I believe you."
Damian smiled then, a rare, soft smile that few ever saw. He stood and disappeared for a moment, only to return with a silver tray. On it were Amara's favorite foods-fruits, a light soup, and warm bread.
Her eyes widened. "You... you cooked?"
He chuckled, setting the tray across her lap. "Not exactly. I might burn the house down if I tried. But I made sure the chef prepared everything exactly how you like it. No spicy food, nothing heavy. Just what you and our baby need."
She giggled, shaking her head. "You're unbelievable."
He sat beside her, feeding her spoon by spoon, ignoring her protests until she gave in and let him. Between bites, he told her about the changes he was planning-the new security protocols, the trusted doctor he wanted to bring for regular checkups, even the nursery he was already designing.
"Nursery?" she asked, eyes widening.
"Of course," he said with a smirk. "Pink if it's a girl, blue if it's a boy. Or maybe I'll just paint it gold-because my child deserves nothing less."
Amara laughed, covering her mouth. "Gold? Damian, you're impossible."
His gaze softened again, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "Impossible, maybe. But for you... for us... I'll do anything."
That night, Damian didn't let her lift a finger. He drew her a warm bath, helped her change into silk nightwear, and held her close as they lay in bed. His hand never left her stomach, as if he needed constant reassurance that both she and their baby were safe.
Amara drifted off to sleep listening to his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath her ear. And for the first time since the nightmare began, she felt not just safe, but cherished.