Chapter Twenty

 Elena

 I sleep for fourteen hours straight.

When I wake up in Damien’s guest room, sunlight cuts through unfamiliar windows, too bright, too real. My phone is buzzing nonstop on the nightstand, but my head feels thick, foggy. It takes effort just to lift my arm.

Then it comes back.

Victoria.

The board meeting.

Reinstatement.

Falling in love with.

I press my face into the pillow and let it hit me properly this time. The relief. The fear. The strange sense that my life has tilted on its axis and there’s no putting it back.

A soft knock breaks the moment.

“Elena? You awake?”

“Unfortunately.”

Damien steps in with coffee and something warm that smells like breakfast. He’s already dressed for work. Suit. Tie. CEO armor firmly in place. Except his eyes soften when they find me.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I got hit by a truck. A very expensive, emotionally complicated truck.”

He sets the tray down and sits on the edge of the bed. “You needed sleep. You’ve been running on adrenaline for days.”

“What time is it?”

“Two in the afternoon.”

I groan. “You should have woken me. I need to—”

He gently presses my shoulder, easing me back down. “You don’t. Marcus already gave you the rest of the week off. Paid.”

“What?”

“Recovery time,” he says. “From being harassed by my mother.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m serious.” His jaw tightens. “Diana is drafting a formal complaint. She thinks you should file it.”

“Against Victoria?”

“Against the person who terrorized you.” He exhales. “What she did was illegal.”

“I don’t want charges. I just want it to be over.”

“It won’t be over until there are consequences.”

“She resigned. Lost her power. Isn’t that enough?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “For the company, yes. For you? No. But it’s your choice.”

I take the coffee. Perfect temperature. Like he knows me too well already.

“What happened after I fell asleep?”

“Claire resigned. Short email. I accepted immediately.”

“So she was involved.”

“At least complicit.” He shrugs. “She’s gone.”

“And the board?”

“Mostly supportive. Marcus shut down any questions about my judgment.” He hesitates. “I misjudged him.”

“He thought he was protecting the company.”

“He forced you out.”

“Because he thought I was a threat.” I sip my coffee. “People aren’t always villains, Damien. Sometimes they’re just wrong.”

He studies me. “When did you get so forgiving?”

“When I got tired.” I smile faintly. “Anger takes energy.”

He leans down, kisses me softly. “Eat. Then we’re doing nothing today.”

“You don’t do nothing.”

“I’m learning.” His phone rings. He silences it without looking. “Some things matter more.”

---

Three hours later, we’re walking through Central Park with melting ice cream and no schedule.

“I’ve lived here ten years,” Damien says, glancing around, “and I’ve never actually walked through here.”

“That’s tragic.”

“That’s efficient.”

“It’s lonely.”

He looks at me. Doesn’t argue. “Yes.”

People pass us. Joggers. Families. Couples. Life, happening without boardrooms or ultimatums.

“Elena,” he says quietly. “What I said yesterday. About falling in love with you. I meant it.”

“I know.”

“If it’s too fast—”

“I’m there.”

He stops. “You are?”

“I’ve been there.” I swallow. “Since the bar. Since the pen. Definitely since you chose me over your mother.”

For a second, he just stares. Then he kisses me. Right there. Public. Unapologetic.

When we pull apart, we’re both smiling like idiots.

“We’re that couple,” I say.

“I’ve never been that couple.”

“It’s terrifying.”

“And kind of amazing.”

We walk on, fingers tangled.

“What happens now?” I ask.

“We date. Slowly. Normally. See if this survives outside chaos.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll know. But I don’t think that’s the case.”

“Why?”

“Because this feels right.”

My phone buzzes. I ignore it. Then again.

Sophia: CALL ME. NOW. EMERGENCY.

My stomach drops.

I call immediately. “Sophia?”

“When was your last period?”

“What?”

“I found something in your desk. An unopened pregnancy test. From two weeks ago.”

Cold spreads through me.

“I never took it.”

“Elena. When was your last period?”

I think. Count. Panic.

“Six weeks. Maybe seven. But I’ve been stressed—”

“Or you could be pregnant.”

I look at Damien. He’s watching my face, concern sharpening.

“I need to take the test,” I whisper.

“I’m coming to you,” Sophia says. “Where are you?”

---

Damien doesn’t speak until I hang up.

“What’s wrong?”

“I might be pregnant.”

The words hang between us.

“Pregnant,” he repeats.

“I don’t know. It could be stress. We used protection.”

“Protection fails.”

“I know. I just— I didn’t expect this.”

He takes my hands. “We’ll deal with it. Together.”

The word feels heavier now.

Sophia arrives fast, breathless, clutching a bag.

“Bathroom by the boathouse,” she says. “Let’s go.”

Damien stays behind.

Three minutes.

A timer.

A sink.

I stare at the test like it might change if I don’t look.

Two lines.

Positive.

I open the stall door. Sophia knows immediately.

“Oh, honey.”

“I’m pregnant.”

She hugs me tight. “What do you want?”

I don’t know.

I think of my grandmother. Of how she raised me with nothing but love and grit.

I think of my career.

Of Damien.

“I think… I might want this,” I whisper.

“Then we start there.”

---

Damien sees us coming and stands.

I hand him the test.

Two lines.

He’s silent long enough for fear to bloom fully.

Then, softly, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We’ll figure it out.” He pulls me into his arms. “Together.”

But something in his voice has changed. Controlled. Guarded.

And I realize this isn’t just another crisis.

This is something else entirely.

Something that will test everything we just chose.

And we’re about to find out if love, even the real kind, is enough.