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Cracks in His Walls
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2025-10-07 08:08:56Damian’s POV
The city was quiet—too quiet for somewhere that was supposed to never sleep.From his penthouse office, Damian stared out at the skyline, lights flickering across glass towers like a living heartbeat. The empire he’d built. The world he’d fought for.And yet, it all felt empty tonight.He had everything—power, reputation, control. The board trusted him again, the media had moved on, and his company was finally steady.But all he could think about was her.Amara Lopez, walking out of his office hours ago, spine straight, eyes unreadable.He’d told himself it didn’t matter.But it did.She had saved him. Not just his job—him. The man behind the armor.And that terrified him more than any scandal ever could.Damian ran a hand along the cold glass. For years, he’d treated emotion like an enemy—something that clouded reason, made men weak. Everything he’d built came from logic and control.And then
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Damian’s POVI knew something was wrong before she ever said a word.Actually—before, she avoided saying anything at all.Amara had always been guarded. Thoughtful. Careful with her emotions. But she wasn’t evasive. She didn’t disappear behind politeness or distance herself without reason. If something weighed on her, she carried it quietly—but she didn’t shut me out.Not like this.By midmorning, it was impossible to ignore.She didn’t stop by my office the way she usually did, coffee in hand, flipping through notes while talking like the space between us was effortless. She didn’t text during meetings, but she made dry observations that made the hours bearable. When I passed her in the hallway, she smiled—but it was detached. Polite. The kind of smile meant for someone you don’t really know.It unsettled me.I caught her after lunch.“Amara,” I said, stepping into her path without cornering her. “Do you have a minute? ”She stopped. Turned. Met my eyes.For half a second, I thought
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Sophia’s POVPower was a funny thing.People thought you lost it the moment you stepped out of a building or left a title behind. But real power didn’t come from a desk or a nameplate.Real power lived in information.Secrets.Leverage.And I had plenty of that.Amara followed me into a small meeting room on the 18th floor. I chose this room on purpose—quiet, isolated, and well out of Damian’s line of sight. A place where conversations could slip through cracks unnoticed.She closed the door behind her, shoulders tight, fingers gripping her folder. She tried to look composed. Tried not to show she was afraid.She should’ve been.“Relax, Amara,” I said, settling gracefully into a chair and crossing my legs. “I didn’t bring you here to fight.”She didn’t sit.Of course she didn’t.“What do you want? ” she asked, voice steady but strained.Straightforward. Good. She wasn’t as naive as she used to be.I tilted my head. “It’s been a while. You could at least pretend to be civil.”“I’m busy
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