All Chapters of His Billion-Dollar Secret: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Amara’s POVThe partnership renewal deal was brutal — twelve-hour workdays, endless revisions, and more paperwork than anyone should ever see. And through every minute of it, Damian Blackwood was right there beside her.Every meeting.Every late-night email.Every silence that said too much.They worked well together — almost too well. Efficient. Focused. Professional. But beneath that, there was something neither could name — the weight of glances that lingered too long, the way his voice softened when he said her name, the magnetic awareness that crackled whenever they shared a room.She told herself she was imagining it.That it was just exhaustion.That proximity could trick even the strongest heart.But proximity had a cruel way of blurring lines.By the third week, the late nights had become routine. The office after hours was quiet — just the hum of the city beyond the windows and the soft shuffle of papers

Amara’s POVThe office was silent — the kind of silence that pressed against your ears until every sound felt magnified.The hum of the lights. The tick of the clock. The scratch of her pen across paper.It was past eleven. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but Amara stayed behind.It was easier to drown in work than to think about him — about the argument, the words she couldn’t take back, the almost-kiss she couldn’t forget.If she stayed busy enough, maybe she could convince herself she didn’t care.She didn’t notice the footsteps until the door clicked open. A familiar scent — cedar, smoke, and something that was just him — filled the air.Her chest tightened.Damian.He looked different tonight. The tie was gone, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his expression stripped of all the cool control he wore like armor.“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, keeping her tone steady even as her pulse jumped.He d

Amara’s POVThe rain started just as she stepped out of the building.Of course it did. The perfect ending — gray skies, cold air, and the taste of goodbye heavy on her tongue. She tightened her grip on the folder in her arms and hailed a cab, her pulse racing, half nerves, half ache.She was almost free. Almost.“Amara!”Her name — rough, commanding — cut through the rain.She froze.Damian was standing by the curb, drenched, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his eyes burning with something dangerously close to panic.Her heart clenched. She hadn’t seen him since the elevator — hadn’t wanted to. But seeing him now, raw and disheveled, something inside her faltered.“Don’t,” she said quietly, shaking her head. “Please, Damian. Not now.”But he was already moving toward her.“You don’t get to walk away from this,” he said, his voice low but unsteady. “Not without letting me fight for you.”

Amara’s POVThe Seoul crisis hit like a storm — fast, loud, and impossible to ignore.By the time Amara reached the boardroom, Damian was already there, sleeves rolled, eyes sharp with focus. The tension in the air felt too familiar — the kind that used to tighten her chest back when working under him meant constantly walking on glass.“Thanks for coming,” he said, voice calm but low. “I know this isn’t your job anymore.”Amara set down her folder. “It was my draft. That makes it my problem too.”Their eyes met briefly. For once, it wasn’t about their history — just the work. The numbers. The deal that needed saving.The next few hours blurred into calls, edits, and strategy meetings. Damian led with his usual precision, but there was a difference now. He didn’t dominate the room. He listened. He asked for opinions. When Amara disagreed with one of his proposals, he didn’t interrupt — he nodded.“You’re right,” he said s

Amara’s POVIt had been weeks since the crisis ended — long enough for the office to look normal again. But “normal” didn’t mean what it used to. The constant tension at Cruz Holdings had faded. People actually laughed in hallways. Meetings didn’t feel like battlegrounds anymore.Still, something had shifted. Especially between her and Damian.He wasn’t the same man who used to rule through fear. Not anymore. He still had authority — that would never change — but the edge was gone. The sharpness had turned into patience. He didn’t raise his voice or use silence as a weapon. He listened. He trusted people. He smiled sometimes, and when he did, it wasn’t part of an act.It was real.Amara noticed the little things — the way he stopped to thank the interns, how he gave credit in meetings, how he didn’t hover near her anymore. He gave her space. Respect. Time.And somehow, she missed him more for it.That was what scared her — the quiet ache that wasn’t pain but… possibility.One Friday e