Amara's POV
The rest of the day dragged.
Every time Amara walked past someone's desk, she felt their eyes trail after her. Smirks. Half-hidden whispers. She didn't need to hear the words to know what they were about.
She focused on her work, typing steadily, organizing reports, double-checking Damian's upcoming meetings-but her chest remained tight. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the image of that photo from her mind... or the sting of their judgment.
By early afternoon, she decided to get some air.
The rooftop was empty, quiet, the city humming below. She leaned against the railing and closed her eyes, letting the breeze cool her face.
She hated this.
Not being with Damian-but the shame others were trying to put on her for something they didn't understand. She hadn't asked for his attention. She hadn't chased him. But none of that mattered to people looking for gossip.
Her phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number: I didn't know you had it in you, secretary girl. You climb fast.
She gasped, staring at the message. Who was this? Her fingers trembled as she quickly blocked the number.
Behind her, the rooftop door creaked.
She turned.
Damian.
His expression was unreadable as he stepped forward, his eyes sweeping her face.
"You shouldn't be up here alone."
"I just needed some air," she whispered, turning her gaze back to the city.
He walked closer, resting his hands on the railing beside her. "Did someone message you again?"
She didn't answer at first.
Then, quietly, "Yes. From a number I don't know."
"I'll trace it." His tone was sharp now. "They won't get away with harassing you."
She looked up at him, really looked. His jaw was tight, brows slightly furrowed-but beneath the usual coldness, she saw something else.
Concern.
Care.
"You don't have to fight for me," she said softly. "This isn't your fault."
Damian turned to her fully. "Maybe not. But I put you in the spotlight. I should've kept my distance last night."
Her chest ached. "Do you regret it?"
The silence that followed was heavy.
Then-"No."
The word came out low. Rough. Honest.
Amara's breath caught.
"I don't regret spending time with you," Damian said. "I only regret not protecting you better."
Before she could respond, the rooftop door opened again.
A woman stood there, holding a phone.
"Mr. Knight," she said with an awkward smile. "Sorry to interrupt. There's someone downstairs asking for you."
"Who?"
The woman hesitated. "She says her name is Serena."
Amara flinched.
Damian's whole body tensed. "Tell her I'll be down."
As the door closed, silence returned.
Amara looked away. "You should go."
He didn't move for a moment.
Then he said, "Amara, no matter what happens-don't let them change who you are."
And with that, he left.
Damian Knight's POV
I descended the rooftop stairs with my jaw clenched.
Serena.
Of all the people to show up at my office-why now?
The timing couldn't have been worse. I had barely wrapped my head around the chaos of last night... the softness of Amara's laughter still lingered in my mind, the way she looked at me like I wasn't a monster.
And now, Serena.
A storm waiting to explode.
As I entered the lobby, I spotted her immediately-perched like a queen, legs crossed, sunglasses on indoors, red lipstick too bright, too perfect.
"Damian," she purred as she stood. "There you are."
"I didn't invite you," I said coldly.
She tilted her head, unfazed. "And yet I'm here. We need to talk."
"Not here."
Her heels clicked sharply as she followed me toward the elevator. People turned, watching. Whispering.
Exactly what I didn't need.
Once we were in my office, I shut the door, the tension between us thick enough to slice.
"What do you want, Serena?"
She smirked, setting her designer purse on the table like she owned the place. "I saw the photo."
My eyes narrowed. "What photo?"
"Don't act like you don't know," she said, pulling out her phone and flashing the screen. "You and your little secretary looking... cozy. Seems the great Damian Knight has a soft spot."
I stared at it.
Who the hell had taken that?
It was from last night. Me and Amara. On the sidewalk. Her hand on my chest. My face too close to hers.
It looked intimate.
Too intimate.
Serena tucked the phone away, pleased with herself. "This changes things."
I stepped forward, lowering my voice. "If you're here to stir drama, it won't work. Whatever we had is in the past. Long past."
"But it doesn't have to be," she said, reaching up to trace her finger along my lapel. "You and I were good together once. And now you're risking your name for a girl who doesn't even have her own car?"
I grabbed her wrist-not harshly, but firmly. "Don't talk about her."
Her eyes flared. "So it's true."
"I don't owe you explanations, Serena. Leave."
She wrenched her hand away, offended. "You're throwing away everything we built."
"What we built?" I scoffed. "You cared about power. Image. Appearances. That's not love. That was a contract, not a relationship."
Her face hardened. "You'll regret this."
"I already regret letting you back in this office."
I opened the door. "We're done."
She stared at me, something dangerous glinting in her eyes. Then she grabbed her purse and walked out, heels stabbing the floor with every step.
I stayed in the doorway, watching her until she disappeared around the corner.
When I turned back toward my desk, my phone vibrated.
A text from one of the board members.
"Care to explain the photo that's been circulating?"
I sank into my chair slowly.
So this was how it began.
I sat still for a moment, the buzz of my phone still vibrating through my desk like an aftershock.
The picture was spreading.
The board was already breathing down my neck. And if I didn't act fast, this would spiral beyond control-dragging Amara's name through every office hallway, blog headline, and coffee room conversation.
But I wasn't going to let that happen.
Not to her.
She didn't ask for this. She wasn't part of my world-not the cold, ruthless one people like Serena slithered in. Amara was light. Soft. Real.
And if I didn't protect her now, she'd be devoured by the very system I'd built my career in.
I opened my laptop and pulled up the company's internal communications dashboard. Then I called in Logan.
He walked in, eyes alert. "More board members are asking questions. HR's pinged too."
I nodded once. "I'm releasing a statement."
Logan blinked. "You sure? About what exactly?"
I met his gaze. "About the photo. And about the fact that my personal life will not be used as leverage by anyone trying to manipulate this company or the people in it."
His brows lifted slightly, surprised.
I turned to the keyboard and typed.
> To all Knight Tech employees, stakeholders, and members of the board:
In light of recent circulating images and speculative discussions, I am issuing this brief clarification.
Yes, the photo is real.
No, this company's integrity, operations, or ethics are not in jeopardy because of it.
The woman in that image is a respected employee. Any slander, gossip, or malicious behavior toward her will be considered workplace harassment and dealt with accordingly.
Knight Tech remains focused on innovation, not rumors. Thank you for your professionalism.
– Damian Knight
I hit send.
Logan exhaled beside me. "Bold."
I didn't look up. "I'm not hiding her, Logan. And I won't let anyone reduce her to a tabloid story."
He nodded slowly, respect in his eyes. "What about the external mess?"
"I'll handle that personally."
As he left the room, I leaned back in my chair, my mind already working on the next step.
Serena thought she'd back me into a corner.
But what she didn't realize was-I'd rather burn the corner down than let Amara be humiliated.
And if the world had a problem with who I cared about?
Then the world could watch me rewrite the rules.