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Cracks in the Armor
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2025-10-15 08:00:10Damian’s POV
The boardroom felt colder lately.Even with the skyline glowing beyond the glass walls and the polished table reflecting every light, the air had turned tense — sharp, brittle, full of things no one dared say out loud.Damian sat at the head of the table, half-listening as the directors talked through reports — profit margins, investor confidence, public image. The words blurred together into white noise.He hadn’t slept properly in weeks.Most nights ended the same: his phone lighting up in the dark, Amara’s name on the screen, the ache of wanting to see her but knowing he shouldn’t.His gaze drifted across the table — to her.Amara was presenting, voice steady and clear, the glow from her slides catching the edge of her face. Her tone never faltered, but he saw the flicker in her eyes — that trace of exhaustion she couldn’t hide.The whispers had started. He’d heard them in the halls, in elevator
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