The office was buzzing with tension that Monday morning. A critical client presentation had gone off track, and whispers filled the corridors like restless winds. Amara found herself pulled into the chaos when Daniel appeared at her desk, his jaw tight, his voice clipped.
"You're coming with me," he said.
Her pulse jumped. She followed him into the conference room, clutching her notepad like a shield. Inside, a senior manager was raising his voice, blaming the junior team for the mishap. Amara could feel the sting of injustice prickling at her skin — they had worked tirelessly, but one mistake had been magnified.
Before she could speak, Daniel's voice cut through the air, low and steady. "If there's blame to be had, it's mine. My team followed my instructions. Don't single out an intern for an error beyond her control."
Amara's breath caught. Heat surged in her chest. He was defending her.
When the meeting ended, she lingered by the door. "You didn't have to do that," she whispered.
Daniel's gaze met hers, intense but unreadable. "Yes, I did. You'll learn soon enough that this world eats the quiet ones alive. Don't let them silence you."
For the first time, Amara saw past his cool exterior. Beneath the sharp suits and steady confidence, there was a man who carried battles of his own. And something inside her stirred — a dangerous kind of admiration.