For the first time in months, Amelia could breathe.
No security alerts.
No boardroom battles.
No threats lurking in the shadows.
Just her and Damien — no armor, no pretense — wrapped around each other in a world they had carved out with blood and fire.
The days that followed blurred into something golden.
Mornings tangled in white sheets.
Afternoons spent planning expansions for Raven Corp — together, partners in every sense.
Evenings wrapped in champagne and rooftop sunsets.
For once, the empire didn't demand all of Damien's attention.
For once, Amelia let herself believe in forever.
One evening, Damien whisked her away on his private jet.
No announcement.
No agenda.
Just, "Pack a bag, trust me."
They landed hours later in Santorini, where whitewashed villas spilled down the cliffs and the sea blazed an impossible blue.
Damien had reserved an entire estate overlooking the caldera.
Amelia stood on the sun-drenched terrace, the wind tugging her hair into wild tangles, and laughed — truly laughed — as Damien wrapped his arms around her from behind.
"This doesn't feel real," she murmured.
"It's real," Damien said against her ear.
"And it's yours."
They moved like dreamers through the days.
Exploring sun-drenched villages.
Sipping wine that tasted like gold.
Making love under a sky so full of stars it looked like it might break open.
Amelia saw a side of Damien few people ever would — playful, unguarded, achingly human.
He still carried his burdens, but he let her carry them too.
For once, he wasn't alone.
Neither was she.
On their last night, Damien took her out to a private beach.
A fire crackled in a pit between two loungers.
The sea whispered secrets to the shore.
Damien reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.
Amelia's heart stopped.
"Damien..." she whispered.
He didn't drop to one knee — Damien Raven didn't bow to anyone.
But he opened the box to reveal a ring — a perfect solitaire, simple and dazzling.
"I'm not good at this," he said gruffly.
"I'm not good at soft words or easy promises."
She laughed, tears burning her eyes.
"But I'm good at fighting for what matters," Damien continued.
"And you, Amelia West, are what matters."
He held out the box.
"Marry me."
For a heartbeat, she just stared at him, stunned, overwhelmed.
Then she launched herself at him, knocking them both into the sand, laughing through her tears.
"Yes," she gasped against his mouth.
"Yes, yes, yes."
The world spun in a dizzy blur of firelight and stars and Damien's arms around her.
It was perfect.
Too perfect.
The storm broke the next morning.
They were eating breakfast on the terrace when Damien's phone buzzed.
He glanced at it — and all the color drained from his face.
"What is it?" Amelia asked, fear clawing into her chest.
Damien didn't answer.
He just stood, cold and mechanical, and showed her the screen.
A photo.
Grainy, tabloid-style.
Of them.
Together.
In Santorini.
Kissing.
And the caption underneath:
> Raven's Scandalous Affair: Billionaire Boss Engaged to Former Employee with Dark Past!
The bottom dropped out of Amelia's world.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head.
Damien's jaw clenched so tight she could see the muscle ticking.
"This was supposed to be private," he growled.
"But how—?"
"They followed us," he said grimly.
"Someone tipped them off."
Amelia's hands trembled.
This wasn't just a leaked photo.
It was a declaration of war.
Against Damien.
Against her.
Against everything they had built.
Damien caught her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"We're stronger than this," he said fiercely.
"They can't break us unless we let them."
But deep down, Amelia knew it wouldn't be that simple.
The sharks were already circling.
And this time, they weren't just coming for Damien's empire.
They were coming for her heart.
The world didn't end with a bang. It ended with a headline.
"CEO Damien Raven's Secret Mistress Exposed — Inside Amelia Vale's Lavish Life!"
The article tore through social media like wildfire. Gossip sites labeled her a gold-digger. Business analysts speculated about Damien's ethics. Even high-society blogs ridiculed Amelia's background.
And all of it — every last detail — had been leaked.
Damien stood beside the towering windows of his office, phone in hand, jaw locked. His PR team sat across the room, trying not to tremble as they rattled off strategies to control the narrative. He wasn't listening. Not really.
He was watching her.
Amelia, sitting on the leather couch, her arms folded tightly across her chest like she was trying to keep herself from unraveling. She stared at the coffee table, eyes blank, lips pressed together to keep from shaking. Her phone buzzed nonstop — her sister, her landlord, strangers — but she didn't reach for it.
Damien's heart clenched.
He had promised her protection. Instead, he'd given her front-row seats to a media circus.
"I'm calling a press conference," Damien said at last, his voice like steel dragged across glass.
"Sir," one of the executives protested, "that could escalate things. We're recommending a no-comment strategy—"
"No." Damien turned to face them, eyes blazing. "If I let this spiral, she'll be crucified. I'm not letting that happen."
"You're going to admit the relationship?" the head of PR asked, cautiously.
"I'm going to own it. And make damn sure they know she's not just some scandal."
The room fell silent.
One by one, his team filed out, leaving Damien and Amelia alone.
Amelia looked up at him, finally. Her voice was soft. "You don't have to do this."
"You think I'll sit back and watch them rip you apart?"
"I can take it."
"No, you shouldn't have to."
A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly. "Why now? Who would leak this?"
Damien's jaw clenched. "Someone with access. Someone who wants me destroyed."
There were many candidates. Rivals. Board members. Former lovers. But one name burned through his thoughts: Silvia Lennox. Ambitious. Calculating. And recently turned down.
"I'll find out," he promised. "And when I do—"
"You can't fight them all, Damien."
"Watch me."
The press conference was chaos.
Photographers jostled for position outside Raven International's headquarters. The lobby had been transformed into a stage: sleek backdrops, discreet security, and a single podium bearing Damien's name.
As he walked toward it, a hush fell over the crowd.
He looked calm. Imposing. In control.
But Amelia, watching from the side, saw the storm behind his eyes.
He cleared his throat and began. "I won't waste your time denying the headlines. Yes, I'm in a relationship with Amelia Vale. Yes, it was private — until now. And no, I will not apologize for loving a woman who challenges me, humbles me, and has stood by me when most would've run."
Gasps echoed through the room.
Damien's gaze swept over the crowd. "Let me make one thing clear: Amelia is not a mistress. She's not a scandal. She is mine — by choice, not by status. And I won't allow her name to be dragged through mud because people can't accept that love doesn't check résumés."
He walked off the stage without another word.
Backstage, Amelia met him with trembling hands. "You… said you love me."
Damien exhaled slowly. "I do."
"You just told the world."
"I meant every word."
She kissed him — not out of passion, but desperation. As if to ground herself in a reality that suddenly felt like a dream.
But not everyone celebrated.
An emergency board meeting was called that same evening. Damien sat at the head of the table, Amelia absent, his tie loosened, sleeves rolled up like he was preparing for battle.
"Do you realize the damage this could cause?" a director barked. "Stock volatility. Shareholder panic. Brand trust!"
Damien's voice was cold. "What damages the brand more — my personal life, or a board that panics like children at every tabloid article?"
"You're crossing a line, Damien," said another. "Your personal entanglements are becoming liabilities."
"I'm the reason Raven International grew by 63% in two quarters. Don't lecture me about liabilities."
Someone slammed a report on the table. "The leak came from inside. Someone with high-level clearance."
Damien's eyes narrowed. "And you think it was me?"
"No. But someone close to you."
Silvia Lennox's seat was empty.
He stood, straightening his cuffs. "If anyone in this room thinks I'm stepping down or sacrificing Amelia to save face, you're free to try and remove me."
No one spoke.
He walked out.
Later that night, he found Amelia curled on the penthouse couch, the TV muted, her body wrapped in a blanket far too small.
He sat beside her, pulling her close.
"They want you gone, don't they?" she whispered.
"They won't get it."
"You can't protect me forever."
"I don't plan to. I plan to stand beside you while you protect yourself."
She looked at him, heart hammering. "What if I told you I wasn't ready for all this?"
"I'd wait. As long as it takes."
Silence stretched.