Mag-log in.
. . . . The office buzzed with tension after Damian Cole’s rare visit. Emery could still feel the weight of every eye on her, as though her colleagues were waiting for her to crumble. She kept her chin high, though her hands trembled slightly as she arranged files. If Damian thought he’d broken her in that conference room, he was wrong. Her phone buzzed suddenly on her desk. A message from HR: Report to the CEO’s office immediately. Her stomach dropped. "I guess I'm cooked today" She rose slowly, smoothing her skirt with hands that betrayed her nerves, and began the long walk to the twenty-fifth floor , the executive floor no ordinary employee dared to wander into without summons. The elevator doors opened to reveal gleaming marble, a crystal chandelier above, and a secretary seated behind a wide glass desk. The woman’s sharp eyes flicked over Emery like she was measuring her worth. “Mr. Cole is expecting you,” the secretary said coolly. Emery swallowed and nodded, stepping toward the massive oak doors. Her reflection stared back at her in the polished surface before she pushed them open. Damian’s office was intimidating, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city, bookshelves lined the walls, and a sleek black desk sat like a throne. Damian himself stood behind it, jacket off, sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the strength in his forearms. His gray eyes lifted, pinning her in place. “Sit.” It wasn’t a request. Emery obeyed, perching on the edge of the leather chair. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Damian studied her for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair. “Do you know why you’re here?” She hesitated. “Because I was late again?” His lips twitched not quite a smile, more like irritation. “That’s part of it. But no. You’re here because you interest me, Miss Emery.” Her heart stuttered. “Interest you?” “Yes,” he said smoothly, folding his hands together. “You don’t crumble easily. Most employees I confront can’t even look me in the eye. You, on the other hand, fight to keep your dignity even when you’re one mistake away from unemployment. That… is rare.” Emery frowned. “With all due respect, Mr. Cole, my dignity isn’t something you get to use for entertainment.” His brows rose slightly. Few people dared speak to him that way. “Bold.” “Honest,” she shot back, surprising even herself. For a moment, silence hung thick between them. Damian’s eyes narrowed, but instead of anger, there was a spark like he was amused. Finally, he rose and walked to the window, hands in his pockets. “My family is pressuring me to marry.” Emery blinked. Of all the things she expected to hear, that wasn’t it. “Your family?” she asked carefully. “They believe a powerful man should have a powerful woman at his side,” he said flatly. “They’ve chosen someone… suitable. A socialite named Clara West.” His tone sharpened slightly at the name. “But I have no intention of letting my life be dictated.” Emery shifted uncomfortably. She had no idea why he was telling her this. “And what does that have to do with me?” she asked. Damian turned then, his gaze locking with hers. Cold. Calculated. Dangerous. “Everything,” he said softly. “If I am married, they cannot force me into another arrangement. Which means…” He paused deliberately. “I need a wife.” The words struck Emery like a slap. She stared at him, mouth parting in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.” His expression didn’t waver. “I am not in the habit of making jokes.” Emery shot to her feet, shaking her head. “You’re insane. You don’t even know me.” “I know enough,” Damian said, his voice calm, as though he had already decided her fate. “You’re desperate. You need money. You would do anything to keep your family afloat. A contract marriage benefits us both.” Her chest tightened at his blunt words. How did he know? How could he see through her so easily? “You think because I’m struggling, I’d sell myself to you?” she snapped, her pride flaring hot. He stepped closer, towering over her, his presence suffocating. “Don’t pretend you haven’t thought about what you’re willing to sacrifice for your family. I’m offering you a solution.” “A solution or a cage?” she hissed. His eyes darkened. For a moment, the mask slipped, and she saw the storm beneath. “Both,” he admitted. “But it’s a cage lined with gold.” Emery’s pulse raced. Her instinct screamed to refuse, to walk out and never look back. But the image of her mother’s hospital bills, her little brother’s tuition fees, the constant weight of debt—all of it crashed over her. Damian Cole was offering everything she needed. At a price. Her fists clenched. “I’d rather starve than chain myself to you.” Something flickered across his face irritation, maybe even admiration. He leaned in, so close she could feel the heat of his breath. “Careful, Emery,” he murmured. “Pride is expensive. And I always collect debts.” Her breath caught. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The air between them crackled. Then Damian straightened, sliding his hands back into his pockets as though nothing had happened. “Think about it. But don’t take too long. Opportunities don’t wait.” With that, he turned back to his desk, dismissing her as easily as one would brush off dust. Emery’s hands trembled as she yanked open the door. Her heart thundered against her ribs as she strode down the hall, refusing to let him see her break. But deep down, she knew the truth. . . Emery couldn’t remember how she made it out of Damian Cole’s office. One moment she’d been standing beneath his cold, merciless gaze, the next she was back in the elevator, clutching her bag as though it could anchor her against the storm inside. A wife? he wants me to be his wife? The words echoed in her mind like poison. It wasn’t a request; it had been a command disguised as an offer. Damian Cole didn’t ask. He never did. . . . Emery's Apartment By the time she returned to her small apartment, exhaustion weighed on her like lead. The air smelled faintly of detergent and instant noodles. Her little brother, Ethan, was sprawled on the floor with his textbooks, muttering formulas under his breath. “Emmy!” he grinned, rushing to hug her. “You’re home!” She forced a smile, kissing the top of his messy hair. “Of course. You finish your homework?” He nodded eagerly. “Almost. But… Mom called. She sounded tired again.” Emery’s heart clenched. She set her bag down and picked up her cracked phone, scrolling to her mother’s number. The call connected after a few rings, and a frail but warm voice filled her ear. “Emery, sweetheart.” “Hi, Mom,” Emery whispered, blinking back sudden tears. “How are you feeling?” “Better today,” her mother lied, as she always did. “Don’t worry about me. Just focus on work and school.” Emery’s throat burned. She wanted to scream, I can’t even pay your hospital bills without drowning, but she bit the words back. Her mother didn’t need more burdens. After they hung up, Emery leaned against the peeling wall, covering her face with her hands. Damian’s voice echoed again. A cage lined with gold. What if… what if stepping into that cage meant her mother lived, Ethan studied, and she finally breathed without debt crushing her lungs? Her pride screamed no. But desperation whispered yes. The next morning at work, Emery tried to bury herself in tasks. But by noon, a sleek black car appeared outside the building. The receptionist hurried to her desk. “Miss Emery, Mr. Cole’s driver is waiting for you.” Her pulse spiked. Already? Outside, the tinted window rolled down just enough for her to glimpse Damian inside, expression unreadable. “Get in,” he said. Every rational bone in her body wanted to walk away. But her feet betrayed her. She slid into the car, clutching her bag to her chest. Silence hung heavy as the city blurred past the windows. Finally, Emery found her voice. “You can’t just order me around like this.” Damian’s gaze flicked to her, sharp and cool. “Yet here you are.” Her jaw tightened. “Because you cornered me.” “No,” he corrected smoothly. “Because deep down, you know I’m offering the only lifeline you’ll get.” Her heart twisted. “You think you know everything about me. About my family. About what I need. But you don’t.” “I know enough.” His voice dropped, low and lethal. “Your mother’s bills. Your brother’s school fees. You work two jobs and still barely keep the lights on. Tell me, Emery, how much longer before the weight crushes you?” Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “You don’t get to use my pain like that.” “I’m not using it,” Damian said simply. “I’m solving it. But pride is standing in your way.” She whipped her head toward him, fire flashing in her eyes. “Maybe pride is all I have left.” For a moment, their gazes locked. His lips pressed into a thin line, and something unreadable flickered in his eyes—admiration, annoyance, maybe both. The car stopped in front of a towering luxury hotel. Damian stepped out, buttoning his jacket with practiced ease. He turned back to her. “Dinner. With me.” Emery blinked. “What?” “You can’t make a decision on an empty stomach.” His tone was final, not up for argument. “Come upstairs.” Against every instinct screaming at her to run, she followed him. The restaurant on the top floor glittered with crystal chandeliers, polished silver, and the hum of the city lights spread below. Damian pulled out a chair for her, his movements precise, practiced. She sat stiffly, trying not to notice the way everyone in the room seemed to glance their way. Over wine and perfectly cooked steak she couldn’t taste, Damian laid out the terms with brutal clarity. “One year. You will be my wife in name. Attend events, live in my home, play the role until my family backs off. In return, every debt you have disappears. Your mother receives the best care. Your brother’s education is secured. And when the year ends, you walk away richer than you ever dreamed.” Emery’s knife clattered against her plate. She stared at him, breath caught between fury and disbelief. “You make it sound like a business deal,” she whispered. “That’s exactly what it is,” Damian said without apology. Her pride screamed again, but her mind betrayed her, racing through bills, rent, medicine, Ethan’s wide hopeful eyes. “Why me?” she asked finally. His gaze darkened. “Because choosing you insults them. My family wants a polished diamond. I’d rather set fire to their plans with a woman they’ll never accept.” The words cut sharp and cruel. Emery’s chest ached, though she couldn’t explain why. “So I’m a weapon,” she murmured bitterly. “Yes,” Damian said without hesitation. Then, softer, almost like a secret, “But you’re also the only one I trust not to betray me.” Her breath hitched. The ice in his tone had cracked, just for a heartbeat. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual steel. “Think carefully, Emery. This is the price of survival.” She gripped the edge of the table, her nails digging into the wood. Survival. Pride. Family. Freedom. The scales tipped dangerously in her mind. And for the first time, she realized she might already be caught in Damian Cole’s cage. . . . . Starlight ✍️The office was quiet that morning — unusually quiet. Even the clicking of keyboards and hum of the air conditioner sounded softer, almost hesitant. Emery sat at her desk, eyes fixed on the screen but mind miles away. She hadn’t slept much. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him, Damian. The look on his face when she had said those words: I think you’re mistaken, sir. It wasn’t just anger. It was hurt. The kind of hurt that carved deep, leaving invisible wounds that never really healed. Her phone buzzed. For a moment, her heart jumped — she thought it was him. But it wasn’t. Gabriel: Don’t forget about tonight, Miss Lincoln. 7 p.m. sharp. Her pulse steadied. A deep exhale left her lips. Right ,Gabriel. Her new boss. Her escape from chaos. She typed back quickly, I won’t forget, sir, before setting the phone face down, staring blankly at her reflection in the dark screen. This dinner wasn’t about romance. It wasn’t about connection either. It was about control —
That broke her. Clara turned, blinking fast to hide the sting of his words, and left without another sound. The door closed behind her with a soft click — but it might as well have been a gunshot. Damian sank back into his chair, chest heaving. The whiskey glass finally met his lips. The burn was sharp, but it didn’t touch the fire already raging inside him. The next morning, Marcus returned with a file thick and neatly clipped. “She’s working at Luxe’s biggest competitor, sir,” Marcus reported. “Gresham Industries. Her boss Gabriel Pierce —seems… fond of her. I’ve also confirmed she lives with her mother, younger brother, and a small boy named...” Marcus hesitated. Damian’s head snapped up. “Say it.” “Adrian, sir. Adrian Lincoln.” The sound of that name hit Damian like a bullet to the chest. “Adrian,” he repeated, voice barely audible. He turned away from Marcus, hiding the tremor that passed through him. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. “And his
A soft knock at her door startled her. Patricia stepped in quietly, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Ethan was behind her, holding a sleepy Adrian. “Emery…” her mother’s voice was soft, tentative. “You’re pale. What happened?” Emery swallowed, forcing her lips into something that looked like a smile but wasn’t. “Nothing. Work was just… long.” Patricia didn’t buy it. She sat down next to her daughter, fingers curling around hers. “You saw him today, didn’t you?” The mask shattered. Emery’s eyes filled with tears, her throat tightening painfully. She looked away, blinking rapidly, but it was too late. “I had to,” she choked out. “Gabriel invited me to dinner. I didn’t know Damian would be there. And when he saw me—” Her voice cracked. “—I had to pretend, Mama. I had to pretend I didn’t know him.” Patricia’s hand squeezed hers gently. “You did what you had to, baby. For Adrian. For yourself.” Emery shook her head violently, strands of hair clinging to her damp
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Emery stepped out, her heels clicking against the marble floor of the corporate tower. She had just wrapped up a late meeting, her body tired but her mind restless.The night air outside promised freedom. She wanted nothing more than to get home, to tuck Adrian into bed, to wash away the long day with his laughter.But fate had other plans.As she crossed the lobby, her eyes caught on a tall, broad figure near the exit. His stance was commanding, familiar, dangerous in its quiet intensity.Damian.Her chest clenched. The world seemed to slow. She hadn’t seen him this close in years — not since the night she fled the mansion with her mother and Blake.His hair was a little shorter now, sharper around the edges, but those same stormy eyes burned into her as if time had never passed.For a moment, she couldn’t breathe.He hadn’t changed. He was still Damian Cole — powerful, magnetic, terrifying in the way he could shatter her walls with a s
The file sat unopened on Damian’s desk, but its weight was unbearable. It wasn’t the paper, the ink, or the glossy photographs that burdened him. It was the truth inside — a truth he had denied, ignored, lost, and now rediscovered.Adrian. His son.He hadn’t slept in days. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he saw was a small boy’s smile, a boy who carried his face. His heir. His blood.Tonight, the city outside glittered under moonlight, but Damian sat in darkness, his whiskey untouched. He had spent years building walls around his emotions, but now every stone had been torn down by the image of one child.A knock at the door broke through his thoughts.“Enter,” his voice came out sharp.Marcus stepped in. “They left the house an hour ago. Emery, Ethan, and Adrian. She took him to school in the morning, picked him up in the afternoon, and they stopped by a bookstore. They just returned home.”Damian’s hands gripped the arms of his chair. “And?”Marcus hesitated for the first time. “Sir
He was looking at himself.Not perfectly, not a mirror, but close enough to strike him like lightning. The same sharp jawline. The same piercing eyes. The same stubborn tilt of the chin.His son.Damian’s throat constricted painfully as his fingers clenched the edge of the photograph. For a split second, the icy armor he had built his whole life cracked, revealing raw, staggering vulnerability.His son.Damian’s hands shook slightly as he held the photograph. His eyes devoured every detail — the way the boy’s fingers curled tightly around Emery’s, the mischievous glint in his eyes, the half-smile tugging at his lips. It was as though the universe had plucked a fragment of Damian’s very being and shaped it into flesh and blood.For years, he had built his empire on control. Numbers, deals, power — everything bent to his will. But now, one small boy unraveled him with nothing more than a photograph.He forced himself to breathe, deep and slow, before he rasped, “Continue.”Marcus, ever







