By noon, the storm inside Navarro Corporation had only grown worse.The whispers had changed their tone.Pity had turned to mockery. Envy to entertainment.And Amara could feel every word pressing against her like invisible thorns.
Her fingers hovered above her keyboard, unmoving. The numbers on her screen blurred. Her mind was a thousand miles away, still echoing with Kael's words.
I don't see you that way. I never have.
It didn't matter that she knew he was angry. It didn't matter that she understood his pride, his stubbornness, the way he hid pain behind cruelty.Because understanding didn't stop the hurt.
She sat straighter, forcing herself to breathe. Her eyes stayed glued to her monitor, even when she heard the low murmurs behind her.
"She really thought she could marry him.""I almost feel bad for her.""Almost."
Her pulse raced. Shame burned her cheeks, but she stayed silent.Silence had always been her only defence.
"Amara."
The voice was deep, calm—startling her from her spiralling thoughts. Damian Sinclair stood beside her desk, tall and composed. His dark blue shirt fit perfectly, understated yet elegant. Even dressed plainly, he drew eyes wherever he went. But unlike Kael's warmth and charisma, Damian's presence was cool—like a still winter lake. Beautiful, but distant. Except with her. His sharp grey eyes softened as they met hers. He wasn't like the others. He never whispered, never stared. Even now, when the office buzzed with gossip, his gaze held nothing but quiet concern.
"You haven't eaten," he said. Amara blinked.
"Oh. I… I'm not very hungry." He studied her for a moment, then offered a small paper bag.
"I brought lunch. Eat." Her throat tightened.
"Damian, you didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," he said simply. "You'll feel worse if you skip lunch."
Tears threatened to spill. In a day filled with cruelty, his quiet care felt like a lifeline.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He nodded and took the empty seat beside her, opening his lunch as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Around them, the chatter faltered. Curious eyes flicked in their direction. A few whispers sparked again—this time tinged with curiosity rather than scorn.
Everyone at Navarro Corporation knew Damian Sinclair as the brilliant but reserved new hire. No one knew the truth.
Damian came from one of the wealthiest families in the city—wealth that rivalled, and in some sectors, even surpassed the Navarro's. He didn't flaunt it. He didn't want to. No one knew his true identity.
No one except Amara.
Even she didn't fully understand. She believed he'd joined the company to gain experience—a humble choice. But the truth was far more personal.
Damian had joined because of her.
He'd fallen in love with Amara years ago, back in college, when he saw her laughing beneath the shade of a tree. Her smile—unguarded, free of the sadness she usually carried—had struck him like lightning. From that moment on, his heart belonged to her.
She didn't care about wealth or status. She didn't even realize how stunning she was beneath her glasses and modest clothes. But she never looked at him the way he looked at her. Her heart was focused entirely on Kael.
And every day, it broke Damian's heart a little more.
"Is that Mr. Sinclair?"
"Why is he sitting with her?"
"Don't tell me he's interested—"
Amara tried to shrink into her seat, but Damian remained utterly unfazed. He unwrapped a sandwich, handed her one, and spoke in that steady, grounding voice.
"Eat, Amara. Ignore them."
So she did.And for the first time that day, she tasted something other than bitterness.
They ate in silence, but it wasn't the suffocating kind.It was calm—like a quiet shelter in the middle of a storm.
She risked a glance at him. His dark blue shirt fit neatly, his sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the strong lines of his forearms. There was a steadiness in Damian that drew her in—a silent warmth she hadn't realized she'd been missing.
He noticed her staring and offered a faint smile. "Feeling better?"
"A little," she admitted.
"Good." He leaned back, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "Don't let them define what you are to him. You know the truth."
Her breath caught. "How did you—?"
"I saw the way he looked at you this morning," Damian said quietly. "And I saw the way you looked back. Whatever this is, you don't deserve the way he spoke to you."
Tears pricked her eyes again, and she quickly looked away. "Please… don't, Damian. I don't want to talk about it."
He nodded. "Then we won't."
And just like that, he gave her space—the kind that comforted instead of suffocating.
Kael left his office and froze. Damian was sitting with Amara, speaking quietly. Her eyes were red, but she smiled faintly. Something churned in Kael's chest. Jealousy? No. Impossible. He was just… protective. Striding over, he said sharply,
"Amara. My office. Now." She flinched, quickly standing.
"Y-Yes, Kael." Damian's gaze flickered between them, unreadable. When Amara hurried away, Kael turned to him.
"Stay away from her," he said coldly. Damian raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"She's my grandfather's ward," Kael snapped.
"She doesn't need you interfering." Damian's voice dropped, dangerous and soft. "She also doesn't need you hurting her."
Kael stiffened. "What did you say?"
"You heard me," Damian replied, his eyes like sharpened steel.
"If you don't want her, fine. But don't you dare hurt her." The tension crackled between them.
Kael scoffed and turned away. "Stay out of it."
Damian's jaw tightened. If you keep this up, Kael Navarro… you'll lose her forever.
Inside Kael's office, the tension hit her like a wall.He was pacing near the window, his expression hard."What were you doing with Sinclair?" he demanded.
Her brow furrowed. "Lunch. He was just—"
"Just what? Playing hero?" Kael's voice sharpened. "He has no reason to be near you."
She blinked, confused and hurt. "Why does it matter?"
His jaw tightened. "It matters because he's not trustworthy."
"Or because he's not you?" she asked quietly.
For a second, silence filled the room.Kael froze. His lips parted, but no words came out.
Then he laughed—bitter, forced. "Don't flatter yourself, Amara. I just don't want more drama in this company."
Her eyes glistened.
He turned away, but something in his chest twisted—an ache he didn't want to name.As she left, his reflection in the glass showed him scowling at his own confusion.
When the door closed behind her, he muttered under his breath,"What the hell is wrong with me?"
The next day, Navarro Corporation gathered for their quarterly meeting.Laughter and light conversation filled the spacious room, but beneath it all buzzed the same undercurrent of gossip.
Amara stood near the back, invisible. Or so she thought.
Until a voice rang out from the crowd—too bold, too cruel."So, when's the big wedding, Miss Castellanos? Or should we ask Mr. Kael directly?"
The laughter that followed was sharp and mocking.The air froze.
Kael's head turned slowly toward her. His expression darkened."There is no wedding," he said flatly. "And there never will be."
The room went dead silent.
He looked straight at her now, eyes cold. "Whatever rumours are spreading—they're false. I never agreed to any engagement. If people are talking, it's because someone here wanted attention."
Each word was a knife.And then—he looked at her.Only her.
Her lips parted. "Kael, I didn't—"
"Enough," he snapped. "Don't play innocent."
Gasps rippled through the room.Amara's vision blurred. The humiliation was too much.
And then—she felt it.A warm hand slid gently into hers.
Damian.
He stepped forward, his presence calm but unyielding, his grey eyes fixed on Kael."We're leaving," he said, his voice steady, almost commanding.
Kael's expression hardened. "What are you doing, Sinclair?"
Damian didn't look at him. He guided Amara out, his hand firm around hers. The office watched in stunned silence. Amara stumbled, barely holding back sobs.
Kael stood frozen, his fists clenched at his sides. His chest burned—not with anger, but something far worse.Jealousy. Regret. Fear.He didn't know which.He only knew he'd lost control of something he never meant to lose.
As the door shut behind them, the whispers began again—but this time, they weren't about scandal.They were about the man who had chosen to stand beside her when everyone else turned away.