CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: THE STORM BEFORE THE SHIFT
MAYA
I didn't expect to faint in the middle of a bakery.
One minute I was deciding between chocolate croissants and almond muffins. The next, I was on the floor, staring at the ceiling fan spinning like a slow carousel.
By the time I opened my eyes, I was in the back of an ambulance.
The paramedic smiled gently. "You're okay. But we're taking you in just to be safe."
My hand flew to my stomach. "The baby?"
"Heartbeat's steady," she reassured me.
Relief crashed over me like a wave.
DAMIAN
I missed five calls from an unknown number.
Then one from Grandmother.
And then one from Maya's number only it wasn't her voice. It was a nurse.
By the time I reached the hospital, I was running. Through corridors. Past signs. Through panic.
I found her sitting on the bed, pale but smirking.
"I'm fine," she said before I could speak.
"You fainted."
"Because I skipped breakfast and argued with a barista. Not because the world is ending."
I exhaled like I'd been holding my breath for hours.
"You scared me."
She touched my face. "You always think love means control."
"It means protection."
"It means trust too," she said softly.
I kissed her hand. "Then I'll learn."
MAYA
The doctor called it fatigue and iron deficiency. Gave me pills. Told me to rest. Damian turned that into a military operation.
No more stress. No more outings without security. No more anything unless he approved.
"I'm pregnant, not powerless," I muttered one night as he hovered over my water glass.
He didn't answer.
He just curled up behind me in bed, hand over my belly, and whispered, "You're my whole future."
And I let that hold me.
DAMIAN
The next morning, I had a meeting with the board.
A new acquisition was on the table. A big one.
I sat at the head of the table. Sharp suit. Steady voice. Cold logic.
Until one of the partners Graves said, "This might not be the right time for Voltaire Holdings to take risk, considering your... personal distractions."
I stood.
Everyone froze.
"I'm not distracted," I said. "I'm motivated. And if any of you confuse fatherhood for weakness again, this room will get very quiet permanently."
No one spoke after that.
MAYA
By the weekend, the headlines had changed.
DAMIAN VOLTAIRE: THE SOFTER SIDE OF A TYCOON
THE MYSTERY WOMAN WHO BROKE THE BILLIONAIRE'S GUARD
There were pictures. Of us. At the hospital. At the bakery. In the cabin.
I cried. Not because of fear.
But because the world now saw what I hadn't planned to show.
He sat beside me, handing me tissues.
"It's not about hiding anymore," he said. "It's about choosing what story we tell."
I sniffed. "And what's our story?"
He smiled.
"A man who nearly lost everything. A woman who found everything. And a baby who's already stealing all our sleep."
I laughed. And this time, it felt good.