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The Aftermath

Author: mscelene
last update Huling Na-update: 2025-09-28 08:00:04

Amara’s POV

If I never saw Damian Cruz again, it would still be too soon.

The moment I walked into the office Monday morning, my chest tightened like someone had tied it with wires. My heels clicked against the marble floor far too loudly, each step echoing like a countdown to disaster. I kept my eyes glued to the carpet, praying the universe would grant me one small mercy: invisibility.

After all, how exactly was I supposed to look at the man who had kissed me like the world was ending… and then told me it was a mistake?

Spoiler alert: I couldn’t.

So I avoided him.

I buried myself in reports, emails, pointless spreadsheets—anything that meant I didn’t have to go near his glass-walled office. When I heard his voice down the hall, I ducked into the break room and stared way too long at the coffee machine. When I saw his reflection in the elevator doors, I pivoted so fast I nearly tripped and took the stairs instead.

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  • His Billion-Dollar Secret   Breaking Point

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  • His Billion-Dollar Secret   Outside Pressure

    Amara’s POVClient dinners were my personal definition of hell. Polished smiles, subtle power plays, champagne poured into glasses that probably cost more than my monthly rent. It wasn’t just dinner—it was theater.And tonight, Damian and I were center stage.The restaurant glittered with low amber lights and sleek marble floors. Waiters moved like shadows, silent and precise. At the long table near the window, the Cruz Holdings team gathered with tonight’s client, HorizonTech, and their executives.I smoothed my dress as I took my seat beside Damian. Professional. Calm. That’s what I told myself. But when his arm brushed mine on the way to his chair, my chest tightened in a way I hated.We weren’t speaking much outside of meetings, not since the late-night confrontation in the office. I was determined to keep it that way.So I plastered on my best diplomatic smile, nodding politely at introductions, forcing myself to focus on th

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    Amara’s POVCorporate functions were not designed for survival. They were designed for slow, glittering torture.The ballroom glowed like a jewel box, chandeliers dripping with crystals that scattered the light across silk gowns and polished shoes. Champagne flutes clinked, laughter rippled like wind over water, and somewhere, a string quartet was playing a song I didn’t recognize.I tugged at the hem of my dress—a borrowed black sheath that felt too plain for this room of polished perfection. My heels pinched, my hair refused to behave, and the only thing keeping me from bolting was the glass of sparkling water I clutched like a shield.I told myself if I stayed small, if I stayed quiet, I could blend into the wallpaper.But invisibility never worked when Damian Cruz was in the room.He stood near the stage, tall and composed in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire student loan balance. He wasn’t just part of t

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    Amara’s POVHeartbreak does strange things to people.Some cry into tubs of ice cream. Some stalk Instagram feeds like masochists, staring at pictures of people they’ll never be.Me? I buried myself in work.If Damian Cruz thought one kiss—one cruel dismissal—was going to unravel me, then he didn’t know who he was dealing with.So when he dropped yet another stack of files onto my desk that morning, lips curved in that infuriatingly calm way, I didn’t flinch.“These need to be cross-checked against the vendor proposals before the two o’clock meeting,” he said smoothly, like he wasn’t assigning me a full week’s worth of work in five hours.I looked him dead in the eye. “Fine.”Something flickered in his gaze—surprise, maybe—but he masked it quickly. He left without another word, his cologne lingering like smoke after a fire.My heart still throbbed, raw from the gala, but I channeled every ounce of pain

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  • His Billion-Dollar Secret   The Aftermath

    Amara’s POVIf I never saw Damian Cruz again, it would still be too soon.The moment I walked into the office Monday morning, my chest tightened like someone had tied it with wires. My heels clicked against the marble floor far too loudly, each step echoing like a countdown to disaster. I kept my eyes glued to the carpet, praying the universe would grant me one small mercy: invisibility.After all, how exactly was I supposed to look at the man who had kissed me like the world was ending… and then told me it was a mistake?Spoiler alert: I couldn’t.So I avoided him.I buried myself in reports, emails, pointless spreadsheets—anything that meant I didn’t have to go near his glass-walled office. When I heard his voice down the hall, I ducked into the break room and stared way too long at the coffee machine. When I saw his reflection in the elevator doors, I pivoted so fast I nearly tripped and took the stairs instead.If an

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