Amara closed the office door gently behind her, her hands trembling. Damian's words still echoed in her ears-his declaration that he chose her over everything else. It had been powerful, protective, overwhelming... but also terrifying.
She walked quickly down the hall, ignoring the stares and whispers from passing employees. By the time she reached her own office, her chest felt tight, her throat heavy. She shut the door, pressed her back against it, and let out a shaky breath.
Her fingers fumbled for her phone. She needed to talk to someone who understood-someone who could calm her racing thoughts. Without hesitation, she dialed Mia's number.
It only rang once before Mia's cheerful voice answered. "Amara! Finally, you called. I've been dying to know how you're doing. How's everything with Damian? I saw some things online-are the rumors true? Are you-"
"Mia..." Amara's voice cracked, and the rest of her words dissolved into a sob.
There was a pause, then Mia's tone softened instantly. "Amara? What's wrong? Talk to me."
Clutching the phone tightly, Amara sank into her chair, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Mia... it's all too much. Clara's father came into the office today. He was so angry, he said Damian ruined everything by choosing me. He called me names, like I was just... just some gold digger." Her voice broke again, choked by another sob.
Mia gasped on the other end. "What? He said that to you? Amara, don't you dare believe a word of it. You're not a gold digger-you've worked so hard, and you love Damian, that's clear as day."
Amara wiped her tears with the back of her hand, though they kept coming. "But Mia, I feel guilty. Damian lost a powerful deal, an alliance that could have helped his empire. And it's because of me. Because he chose me."
"No, no, no," Mia said firmly. "Listen to me. Damian is a grown man. A powerful one at that. If he chose you, it's because you matter more to him than business or alliances. Don't carry the blame for his decision-he doesn't see it as a sacrifice. He sees it as love."
Amara sniffled, pressing her palm against her chest as if to steady her pounding heart. "He keeps telling me that, but I'm so scared. Clara and her father... they won't stop. I know they'll try again."
There was a silence on the line, then Mia's voice came, gentle but resolute. "Then you'll face them together. You're not alone in this anymore, Amara. Damian will fight for you. And I'll always be here when you need me, okay? Cry if you have to, but don't you dare give up on your happiness."
Amara closed her eyes, letting Mia's words wash over her like a balm. Slowly, her sobs quieted, leaving behind a fragile calm.
"Thank you, Mia," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"You'll never have to find out," Mia replied with a small laugh, though her voice held warmth. "Now wipe those tears, queen. Go back out there and remember-you're not just Damian's secretary anymore. You're his fiancée, his future. Don't let anyone take that confidence away from you."
Amara smiled through her tears, her heart a little lighter. "You're right. I'll try."
"Not try," Mia corrected. "Do."
When the call ended, Amara sat quietly for a moment, gathering herself. She looked at her reflection in the glass window-eyes still red, cheeks streaked with tears-but there was a flicker of strength there too.
She inhaled deeply, straightened her shoulders, and whispered to herself, "For Damian. For our baby. I'll be strong."
And for the first time since leaving his office, she believed it.
The afternoon passed slowly, the air in the office still thick from the morning's confrontation. Amara tried to keep her focus on work, but the weight of Clara's glare and Mr. Glover's words pressed against her mind. By the time lunch hour came, she was relieved to step away from her desk.
She had just picked up her bag to head to the cafeteria when Eric appeared at her door. "Miss Amara," he said politely, "the boss needs you in his office right away."
Her brows lifted in surprise. "Oh... alright."
Eric gave her a small smile. "He told me to bring you specifically. You'll see why."
A flicker of curiosity sparked in her chest as she followed Eric down the hall. When she stepped inside Damian's office, the surprise melted into something soft and warm.
The coffee table near the wide glass windows was set with a neatly arranged lunch-steaming plates of grilled chicken, fresh vegetables, pasta, and fruit. Damian stood there adjusting the cutlery like a man who'd rehearsed this moment. When he saw her, his expression softened instantly.
"There she is," he said, his voice deep but tender. "How is my queen doing?"
Amara's lips curved into a small smile, the stress of the day fading just a little. "I'm fine," she replied softly, walking closer.
"Good." Damian pulled a chair out for her. "Sit. We're eating together."
She obeyed, touched by the effort he put into making an ordinary lunch feel special. They sat facing each other, their knees brushing under the table. Damian served her first, carefully placing food on her plate before taking some for himself.
At first, the meal felt peaceful. Amara picked at her plate, eating small bites while Damian watched her with quiet satisfaction. But when she took a spoonful of pasta, a strange wave hit her. Her stomach twisted sharply, and before she could stop herself, she pushed her chair back and rushed toward the small bin in the corner.
Her body convulsed as she threw up.
"Amara!" Damian's chair scraped loudly against the floor as he hurried to her side, his hand gently gathering her hair back, his other hand on her back. Panic flickered across his usually composed face. "Breathe... it's alright. Just breathe."
She coughed, embarrassed, wiping her mouth with the napkin he quickly handed her. "I-I'm sorry... I don't know what happened..."
But when she tried again with a piece of fruit, the same nausea struck, and she bent over once more.
Damian's heart lurched. Fear gripped him, sharper than any boardroom battle or business threat. "That's it-we're going to the hospital," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Amara shook her head weakly. "Damian, it's not necessary. Maybe it's just the food-"
"No," he interrupted, his arms sliding under her before she could protest further. He lifted her as though she weighed nothing, cradling her against his chest. His jaw was set, his eyes dark with determination. "I won't take chances with you. Not now, not ever. We're going."
Eric was already waiting by the door, his face tight with worry. "The car's ready, sir."
Damian strode out of the office, ignoring the shocked stares of employees as he carried Amara through the hallway. Whispers spread quickly-about the CEO's secretary, about her being carried like a bride, about what it all meant-but Damian didn't care.
All that mattered was the trembling woman in his arms.
Amara buried her face against his chest, too tired to argue further. His heartbeat was steady beneath her cheek, and despite her sickness, it calmed her. "You don't have to worry so much," she whispered weakly.
"I do," he said, pressing a kiss to her hair as they exited the building. "Because I love you. And because you're carrying something more precious than anything I own."
His words sank deep into her heart as he placed her gently in the car, his hand never leaving hers.
And though fear tugged at her, Amara felt a fragile sense of comfort. With Damian by her side, she wasn't alone-no matter what lay ahead.