MasukAmara Lopez never believed in fairy tales—especially not the kind that involved ruthless billionaires in tailored suits. She only wanted to finish law school and help her struggling family. But fate throws her into the path of Damian Cruz, the cold and arrogant heir to Cruz Holdings. Their worlds collide when Amara becomes his reluctant intern, sparking a war of wills that neither of them expects to lose. What begins as hatred soon shifts into something more dangerous: desire. But Damian isn’t just any man—he carries a billion-dollar secret that could destroy everything they’re building together. His fortune, his family’s dark past, and a legacy bound by betrayal all stand between them. As enemies turn to lovers, Amara must decide whether to risk her heart on a man the world calls ruthless—or walk away before his secrets consume her. In a world of luxury, lies, and love that burns too hot to ignore, can a billionaire with everything to lose hold on to the one woman he can’t let go?
Lihat lebih banyakAmara’s POVIt started like any other afternoon.Damian had been called into a meeting downtown, leaving her in his office to finish prepping the slides for their upcoming board presentation. He’d told her to use his workspace since it had better monitors — and better coffee.“Just don’t drown in spreadsheets.” he’d teased, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before leaving.The room smelled like cedar and his cologne — clean, warm, a little sharp. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, brushing over neat stacks of papers, framed awards, and the sleek desk that had seen more chaos than calm.Amara had always liked this room.It was where they’d fought, reconciled, dreamed — the nerve center of everything they’d built together.Until that day, when it became something else entirely.She was searching for a report — last quarter’s ethics compliance numbers — when she noticed the bottom drawer on the right side. It wasn’t locked, just slightly open, like someone had pu
Amara’s POVPeace wasn’t what Amara expected.It didn’t come with fireworks or grand declarations — just quiet mornings and softer nights.Three months after the accident, life had settled into a rhythm that almost felt normal. She’d wake up to the smell of coffee drifting through Damian’s apartment — too strong, always too strong — and he’d insist he needed it to survive another board meeting. They’d share breakfast by the window, the skyline spilling gold across the glass towers, pretending, just for a while, that the world outside didn’t exist.He’d ask how she was sleeping, if her back still hurt from therapy, if she wanted him to drive her to work.She’d roll her eyes and tell him she could walk just fine now.It was their kind of domestic — quiet, fragile, unspoken.At Cruz Holdings, their partnership had evolved into something balanced. Damian had learned to listen. He didn’t dominate meetings anymore — he’d lean back, hands clasped, and let her speak. The sharp, commanding CEO
Damian’s POVRecovery wasn’t a movie moment.No dramatic music, no overnight miracle. Just long days, quiet steps, and progress measured in inches instead of miles.Every morning, Damian showed up at the hospital before sunrise — sometimes with coffee, sometimes with flowers, sometimes just with silence. He’d read her the news, talk about the foundation’s projects, or tell her about Lydia scaring the new interns half to death.Some days Amara laughed. Some days she didn’t say much at all.But she was there — breathing, healing, living — and that was enough to keep him coming back.When she was finally strong enough to walk without help, she was already asking about work.“What happened to the scholarship project?” she asked one morning, her voice still soft but steady.“Paused, not canceled.” he said, smiling faintly.“And the audit program?”“Running smoother than before,” he replied. “They’re actually learning.”Amara smirked, tugging the blanket closer. “Guess miracles really do ha
Amara’s POVThe world came back in pieces.Light.Warmth.A distant hum.Her body felt heavy, her eyelids glued shut like she’d been asleep for centuries. The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic filled her lungs. Somewhere close, a machine beeped softly — steady, calm, alive.When she finally managed to open her eyes, everything blurred — white walls, silver machines, sunlight slipping through the blinds. None of it was familiar. Her throat ached when she tried to breathe too fast.Then she saw him.Damian.He was slumped in a chair beside her bed, head tilted against his arm, his shirt wrinkled, tie loose, dark circles shadowing his eyes. He looked nothing like the immaculate CEO she knew — just a man who hadn’t slept in days.For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. But then his fingers twitched, a small crease forming on his brow — even in sleep, he looked like he was waiting for something.Her lips parted, the word barely a whisper.“Damian…”It came out cracked, but it was enou
Damian’s POVThe hospital never slept.Machines hummed in rhythm, lights dimmed to a soft, constant dusk. Beyond the windows, the city glowed — a blur of gold and silver under the rain-washed sky. Damian sat in the same chair beside her bed, back stiff, eyes raw, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest.He hadn’t moved in hours.Doctors told him to rest. Nurses said they’d call if anything changed. But how could he sleep when the only proof the world still made sense was the sound of her heartbeat?He brushed his thumb across her knuckles. Her hand was colder than he remembered, fragile but steady in his grip. Every time the heart monitor beeped, something inside him steadied too. Every pause between beats stole his breath.“You don’t get to walk away again,” he whispered, voice rough. “Not like this.”The clock on the wall glowed 2:43 a.m. The hour when the world goes quiet — when every regret starts to echo.He thought of her — standing beside him in boardrooms full of sharks,
Neutral POVIt started like any other morning — calm skies, sunlight spilling through the blinds, the city waking up to its usual rhythm. No one could have known that by noon, everything would fall apart.At 11:47 a.m., breaking news flashed across every local channel.> “Charity transport involved in highway accident — multiple injured. Foundation head Amara Lopez confirmed among passengers.”The words hit Cruz Holdings like a shockwave.Phones started ringing. Conversations froze mid-sentence. Lydia dropped her pen, eyes fixed on the TV. Around the conference table, everyone turned toward Damian Cruz.He was still typing on his laptop until someone whispered, “Sir… it’s Amara.”He looked up, confused. “What about her?”The TV showed shaky footage of a wrecked van on a mountain road, emergency lights painting the scene red and blue. The reporter’s calm voice only made it worse.> “Amara Lopez, head of the Lopez Foundation, was among those injured. She is being transported to St. Clai






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