°♡˖꒰Author's꒱˖♡° POV
The dawn light was no longer a hint; it was a pale, grey reality bleeding through the curtains, illuminating the room in soft charcoal tones.
Keifer's consciousness returned in fragments. Usually, waking was a violent jolt—a mental checklist of stock prices, board meetings, and enemies to be outmanoeuvred. But this morning, the gears of the "Titan" were jammed by a profound, heavy warmth.
The first thing he registered was the scent—vanilla and something clean, something that smelled like home. Then, the physical reality of his position hit him. He wasn't slumped against the hard edge of the bed frame anymore. He felt a soft, rhythmic rise and fall against his cheek. His face was pressed into the curve of Jay Jay's ribcage, the thin fabric of her shirt the only thing between him and her skin.
His hands, still locked around her waist, tightened instinctively. Even in the haze of half-sleep, his body recognized her. He felt like a man who had been drifting at sea for a fortnight and had finally, blindly, crawled onto solid ground.
Then, he felt it—the slow, ghostly movement of her fingers in his hair.
She was still asleep, her head tilted back against the mattress, but her hands were moving out of muscle memory, continuing the soothing massage that had finally quieted his mind hours ago. The tension he had carried for fourteen days—the crushing weight of his empire—felt like it was being physically drawn out through his scalp by her fingertips.
Keifer didn't move. He didn't dare breathe too deeply.
He knew he should be in the shower. He knew his phone would soon be a chorus of demands and crises. He was wearing a three-piece suit that cost more than most people's cars, now wrinkled and ruined on the floorboards. But as he laid there, cradled by the woman he had nearly pushed away, the "Titan" of London felt smaller, simpler, and more terrified than he had ever been in a boardroom.
He realized then that he wasn't the one holding her world together. It was the other way around. He was the empire, perhaps, but she was the only thing making it worth ruling.
For a long minute, he just listened to the quiet harmony of their breathing, wondering how long he could stay in this sanctuary before the sun fully rose and forced him to be a giant again.
The silence of the room didn't break; it shattered.
A sharp, persistent vibration cut through the stillness, buzzing against the hardwood floor just inches from Keifer's ear. He felt Jay Jay flinch beneath him, the rhythmic movement of her fingers in his hair jerking to a halt as she was pulled violently back to reality.
Keifer didn't move his head from her lap, but his eyes snapped open—the cold, calculating light of the businessman returning instantly. Jay Jay reached out blindly, her hand fumbling for her phone on the carpet.
"Hello?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep and a trace of the peace she had just lost.
"Jay Jay? Thank God you picked up." It was her secretary, Arthur. He sounded frantic, the background noise of a busy office already humming behind him despite the early hour.
"I'm sorry to wake you, but the final contracts for the 'Aurelius' merger—the biggest deal of the year—just came through. The couriers are here. We need your signature on the master documents immediately to lock in the final valuation."
Jay Jay felt Keifer's body stiffen against her. She had almost forgotten that this wasn't just her victory.
"The investor is already leaning on us for the wire transfer," Arthur continued, unaware he was being overheard by the very man he was talking about. "If these aren't signed in the next twenty minutes, the window for the London opening closes, and Keifer's firm will have grounds to renegotiate the equity split. We can't give him that leverage."
Jay Jay looked down. Keifer was still anchored to her waist, his face still pressed against her side, but he was listening to every word. The "Titan" was fully awake now, and the irony was suffocating. He was the investor Arthur was terrified of—the man who would traditionally use this exact delay to crush a partner and take a bigger piece of the pie.
But Keifer didn't move to grab his own phone. He didn't pull away to demand his leverage. He simply tightened his grip on her, his eyes locking onto hers with an expression she couldn't quite read.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," Jay Jay said quietly, her eyes never leaving Keifer's. She ended the call and the room fell into a heavy, charged silence.
The "Aurelius" deal was the crown jewel of her career, and Keifer held the keys to it. The peace of the night was over; the empire was calling.
The heavy silence that followed the call was thick with irony. Jay Jay looked down at the man in her lap—the "investor" her secretary was so terrified of. To the world, Keifer was the ruthless financier backing her billionaire mall project, a man who ate competitors for breakfast. To Arthur and the board, he was a looming threat to her equity.
Arthur had no idea that the man he was trying to "protect" Jay Jay from was currently holding her waist like a lifeline, his expensive suit wrinkled from a night spent on her floor.
They had kept their relationship—their marriage—a guarded secret, a private sanctuary away from the prying eyes of the London elite.
Keifer finally shifted, but he didn't get up. Instead, he reached out, his large hand covering hers to take the phone from her fingers.
"Twenty minutes," Jay Jay whispered, her voice tinged with the stress of the deadline. "Keifer, if I'm not there, your firm's automated triggers will kick in. You'll have the leverage to take another ten percent of the mall's shares. You have to let me go."
Keifer didn't look at the door. He didn't look at his watch. He looked only at her. The "Titan" was gone, replaced by a man who had spent fourteen days in a cold, lonely war, only to find peace in the arms of the woman he loved.
Without a word, he unlocked his own phone. His fingers moved with surgical precision. He didn't call his office; he sent a single, high-priority encrypted message to his head of operations.
[MEETING POSTPONED. ALL EQUITY TRIGGERS SUSPENDED. NEW ARRIVAL TIME: 11:00 AM. NO EXCEPTIONS.]
He tossed his phone onto the carpet, the screen going dark.
"Keifer?" she gasped, her eyes wide. "That's three hours from now. You're giving up the London window. You're giving up the leverage."
"I don't want the leverage, Jay," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep as he tucked his face back into the crook of her neck, pulling her down until they were lying together on the soft rug. "I want the three hours. The mall isn't going anywhere, and neither am I."
For the first time in his life, the investor had decided that his time was worth more than his money.
ᕙ༼Jay Jay's༽ᕗPOV
Than i feel something inside of my abdomen.
I didn't answer him. I couldn't. The sharp twist in my gut was nothing compared to the cold prickle of dread climbing up my spine. I turned and bolted for the ensuite, my bare feet padding frantically against the floor.
"Jay Jay? Jay!" Keifer's voice was laced with panic, his footsteps heavy as he started to follow me, but I slammed the door shut and turned the lock with a trembling hand.
I leaned back against the wood, my breathing shallow and hitched. My hands were shaking as I pulled away the fabric of my top. There it was. A smear of deep, vivid crimson against the pale material.
My stomach did a violent somersault. To anyone else, it was just a monthly inconvenience, but to me, it was a trigger. The sight of blood—even my own—made the world tilt on its axis. My vision began to tunnel, the edges of the bathroom blurring into a hazy white. The floor felt like it was turning into water beneath me.
Don't faint.
Please, not now, I pleaded with myself, but my heart was drumming a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Jay, talk to me!" Keifer shouted, rattling the handle. He sounded like he was about to kick the door off its hinges. "You're hurting, I saw your face. Open this door before I break it down! Are you bleeding? Did you fall?"
I slid down the door, my knees hitting the tiles. I couldn't find my voice to tell him I was fine. I couldn't tell him it was just my period. All I could do was stare at the floor, my breath coming in short, jagged gasps as the blood trauma took hold, pulling me under.
Outside, the "Titan" was losing his mind. He didn't care about the three-hour delay anymore; he sounded like a man watching his entire world collapse through a locked door.
"Jay Jay! Speak to me!"
The world felt like it was spinning, the sight of the red stain making my head feel light and airy. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to take a slow, shaking breath. It wasn't a life-threatening wound—it was just my body. I knew that, but the old fear still clawed at my throat.
On the other side of the door, the wood groaned under the weight of Keifer's shoulder. He was seconds away from splintering the frame.
"Jay Jay! If you don't answer me right now, I'm taking this door down!" his voice cracked, raw with a terror I'd never heard from him before.
"No!...Wait!" I managed to croak out. I swallowed hard, trying to steady the tremor in my lungs. "I'm... I'm coming. Just give me... give me some minutes, Keifer. I'm...i'm okay."
The frantic rattling of the handle stopped instantly. I heard him lean his forehead against the door, his heavy breathing echoing in the hallway. "You're okay? You looked like you were dying. You turned white, Jay."
"I'm fine," I lied, though my hands were still trembling as I cleaned myself up, keeping my eyes strictly averted from the sink. "Just stay there. Don't go anywhere."
I moved slowly, focused on my breathing. It was just a little blood. I could handle this. I took a few more minutes to compose myself, splashed cold water on my face—not looking in the mirror—and finally reached for the lock.
When I opened the door, Keifer was exactly where he'd been, looking utterly wrecked. His expensive suit was a mess, his hair was wild, and his eyes searched mine with a desperate, frantic intensity.
He didn't care about the billions, the mall, or the three-hour delay he'd just created. He looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that held any value.
"You're shaking," he whispered, reaching out to steady me, his touch now incredibly gentle.
I stayed silent, the clinical routine of using my pads helping to ground the panic rising in my throat. I kept my eyes fixed on the ceiling, refusing to look down, refusing to let the sight of red pull me back into that dark, dizzying place. After cleaning myself up, I changed out of the oversized top and into a pair of soft, fresh pyjamas that felt like a protective shield.
When I finally emerged, my heart was still hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Keifer hadn't moved an inch. He was standing like a statue, but the moment he saw my fac—the specific way my jaw was set and the paleness around my lips—the panic in his eyes shifted into a quiet, sudden realization.
He knew. Of course he knew.
He was the only person who truly understood the map of my triggers and the rhythm of my body. In fact, he often tracked my cycle better than I did, he knew the subtle shift in my scent and the way my energy dipped before I even felt the first cramp.
"Jay," he breathed, the tension leaving his shoulders only to be replaced by a deep, surging guilt. "It's... it's today? And with the blood..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. He knew my trauma made this time of the month a psychological minefield, and he had spent the last twenty-four hours making it a million times worse with his temper.
I didn't answer him. I couldn't find the words that weren't laced with exhaustion. I walked past him, my legs feeling like lead, and crawled onto the bed. I didn't say a word, just cutely and tiredly collapsed onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow and curling my arms around my midsection as the first real wave of cramps began to claw at my insides.
The room was silent for a moment. Then, I felt the mattress dip.
He didn't try to pull me into his arms this time. He knew I needed space, but he also knew I couldn't be alone. I felt his large, warm hand settle tentatively on the small of my back, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles over the fabric of my top.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice vibrating through the mattress. "I pushed you so hard yesterday, and I didn't even think... I'm a monster, Jay Jay."
The "Titan" was gone. In his place was a man who looked like he wanted to tear the world apart just to stop my stomach from aching.
Keifer didn't stay on the edge of the mattress for long. He knew exactly what I needed, even when I didn't have the strength to ask. With movements that were practiced and infinitely gentle, he began to strip away the barriers between us.
He worked with a quiet, focused reverence, removing my pyjama top and my bra, and then the bottoms, leaving me in nothing but my underwear and the pad that felt like a bulky reminder of my discomfort. This was our ritual—one born of years of him learning the map of my pain. He knew that during these days, my skin felt too tight, my nerves too raw, and the weight of clothes felt like lead.
I didn't complain. I didn't have the energy to hold onto my anger anymore. I just stayed there, my face pressed into the pillow, letting him do what he was doing.
He lay down beside me, his large, muscular frame acting like a human hearth. The heat radiating from his chest and thighs began to seep into my chilled skin, easing the shivering I hadn't even realized I was doing. His skin was warm, solid, and safe.
He began to massage my body with slow, rhythmic strokes. His hands moved over my shoulders and down my spine, working out the knots of a week's worth of tension. But then his touch shifted, becoming lighter, more careful. He knew that during my period, my breasts became almost unbearably sensitiv—a sharp, aching heaviness that made even the brush of a sheet feel like a bruise.
He cupped them with a touch so feather-light it was barely there, his palms providing just enough warmth and support to dull the throb without causing pain. He knew exactly how to handle me,he knew the pressure to apply and the places to avoid.
As he held me, the "Titan" of London whispered apologies against the back of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. The man who had shouted at me yesterday was gone, replaced by the only person in the world who knew how to put me back together.
"Just breathe, Jay," he murmured, his hands continuing their healing work. "I've got you. I'm not going anywhere."
°♡˖꒰Author's꒱˖♡° POV
The weight of the 11:00 AM meeting began to pull at the edges of Jay Jay's consciousness, even as the warmth of Keifer's body tried to anchor her in sleep.
For a few blissful minutes, the rhythmic massage and the low vibration of his voice acted as a sedative. But the internal clock of a woman used to bracing herself for impact—both physical and professional—wasn't so easily silenced. As the sharpest edge of the cramps began to dull under his touch, the mental fog of pain cleared just enough for the reality of the day to rush back in.
She shifted slightly, a small, troubled furrow appearing between her brows. Keifer felt the change instantly; the way her muscles minutely recoiled from his touch wasn't out of pain, but out of a sudden, spike of anxiety.
"The meeting," she rasped, her voice muffled by the pillow. The word felt heavy, like a stone dropped into a quiet pool. "Keifer... it's almost eleven."
He didn't pull his hands away, but his movements stilled. He could feel the frantic pulse in her back, the way her breathing was hitching again. The guilt he'd felt moments ago doubled. He had spent the last twenty-four hours making her feel like her professional world was crumbling, and now, even when she was at her most vulnerable, she couldn't find peace because of the fires he'd helped light.
"Forget the meeting," he murmured, pressing a firm, grounding kiss to the nape of her neck. "I'll handle it. I'll tell them you're unavailable. I'll tell them the sky is falling if I have to. You aren't going anywhere."
But Jay Jay knew that for her, "handling it" often meant losing more control. The "Titan" might be able to make the world stop for a moment, but he couldn't stop the internal gears of her mind from turning. She lay there, caught in a torturous limbo: her body screaming for the sanctuary of his arms, while her mind began to pace the floor of the boardroom.
The softness of the bed suddenly felt like quicksand, threatening to swallow the last bit of agency she had. Jay Jay pushed against the mattress, her movements clumsy and strained as she forced her heavy limbs to obey.
"No," she gasped, her voice gaining a sharp, brittle edge as she sat up. She gripped the edge of the headboard, knuckles white, waiting for the head-rush to pass. "I'm going."
Keifer reached out, his hands hovering as if to catch her. "Jay, look at you. You're shaking. You can't even stand straight."
"I have to," she snapped, turning to look at him with eyes that were glassy with pain but burning with a fierce, desperate resolve. "My father didn't give me this position because of my name, Keifer. He trusted me to make decisions for this company because he thinks I'm capable. He thinks I'm strong."
She let out a shaky breath, her hand moving instinctively to her abdomen as a fresh cramp bloomed. "I won't let him down. I won't let him think that just because I'm in pain, I'm suddenly incompetent. This meeting is the only thing I have left that's mine—the only thing you haven't managed to tear apart yet."
The words hit Keifer like a physical blow. He watched her struggle to her feet, her small frame looking impossibly fragile in the vastness of the room, yet held upright by a spine of pure steel. She was choosing the cold pressure of the boardroom over the warmth of his embrace, because his warmth had become synonymous with his control.
He stood up, his towering height usually an intimidation tactic, but now he just looked lost. "Then let me drive you," he pleaded, his voice cracking. "If you're going to do this, at least let me get you there."
Jay Jay didn't look back as she headed toward the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. She had to find the mask of the professional executive, even if it cracked the moment the doors closed.
—————————————————
The atmosphere in the boardroom was clinical and cold, a stark contrast to the raw vulnerability of the bedroom just an hour ago. Jay Jay sat at the head of the table, her face a mask of porcelain perfection, though her fingers gripped her pen so hard they turned bloodless. Beside her, Keifer was a silent, brooding shadow. He had been her ghost all morning—carrying her bag, pressing a thermal mug of spiked coffee into her hands, and watching her with a gaze so intense it was as if he could absorb her pain through sheer willpower.
The merger papers were finally signed. The "Titan" and his partner had secured the deal, but the victory felt hollow.
As the meeting broke into informal chatter, a young marketing executive named Elena, known more for her ambition than her tact, saw an opening. She didn't see the silent agony Jay Jay was enduring,she only saw the powerful, devastatingly handsome man standing behind her.
Elena leaned over the table, purposely low, her blouse gapping as she slid a folder toward Keifer rather than Jay Jay. "Mr. Keifer," she purred, her voice a syrupy drawl that cut through Jay Jay's concentration. "I've prepared some post-merger projections that I think only someone with your... vision... could truly appreciate. Perhaps we could discuss them over a private dinner tonight?"
She didn't stop there. She reached out, her manicured hand lingering on Keifer's forearm, her thumb stroking the expensive wool of his suit jacket while she shot a dismissive, pitying glance at Jay Jay's pale face.
The room went deathly quiet. The staff held their breath, waiting to see how the "Titan" would react to such a blatant display of seduction right under his partner's nose.
Keifer's body went rigid. His eyes, which had been softened by worry for Jay Jay, instantly turned into shards of ice as he looked down at the hand on his arm.
Elena didn't stop at flirting; she pivoted to a sharper, more clinical cruelty. She looked Jay Jay up and down with a sneer that suggested Jay Jay was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle to her own ambition.
"It's almost tragic, really," Elena said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy as she addressed the room. "The way we're all sitting here waiting for her to process the data. Keifer, you must be exhausted. You're a man of action, of strategy. You shouldn't be saddled with someone who's clearly not smart enough to keep up with the technical nuances of a merger this size."
She turned back to Jay Jay, leaning in until they were inches apart. "Let's be honest, darling. You're only in this seat because of your father's legacy. You don't have the intellect to navigate these waters, especially when you're so clearly... distracted... by your little feminine ailments. It's embarrassing for the company. You're just a pretty face with a famous name, and frankly, you're not even that pretty when you're this pale."
Keifer's hand, which had been resting on Jay Jay's shoulder, tightened until his knuckles were white. He was a second away from ending Elena's career permanently, but Jay Jay was faster.
The insult to her intelligence—the one thing she had fought to prove her entire life—was the catalyst. The "knife pain" in her stomach was still there, but it was now a fuel rather than a weight. Jay Jay didn't let Keifer defend her.
She didn't use words. She used the only language Elena seemed to understand: raw, unyielding force.
Jay Jay stood up with a speed that defied her physical condition. Before Elena could even finish her smirk, Jay Jay's fist connected squarely with Elena's jaw. The impact was deafening in the small room, a solid crack that sent Elena spiraling backward.
Elena hit the floor, her hands flying to her face as a look of pure, unadulterated shock replaced her smugness.
"My intelligence isn't the problem here, Elena," Jay Jay rasped, her voice cold enough to freeze the air. "Your lack of survival instinct is. You're fired. Get out before I decide that one punch wasn't enough to make my point."
Despite the cold sweat prickling her forehead and the renewed, jagged stabs of pain in her lower back, Jay Jay refused to budge. She sank back into her leather chair, her breathing shallow but her gaze fixed on the final stack of merger documents. Elena was gone, scurrying out of the room in a blur of tears and smeared lipstick, but the silence she left behind was heavy.
"Jay, enough," Keifer murmured, his voice thick with a mix of awe and worry. He moved behind her, his large hands resting on the back of her chair, his thumbs grazing the base of her skull. "You proved your point. You broke her jaw and her ego in one go. Let me take you home."
"No," she said, the word final and sharp. She reached for the fountain pen, her fingers trembling slightly until she locked her wrist. "If I leave now, they'll say I was too 'emotional' or too 'weak' to finish the deal. I'm staying until every last 't' is crossed and every 'i' is dotted. I'm doing this for my father, and I'm doing it for me."
Keifer realized then that he couldn't win this battle with force. This wasn't about her body anymore, it was about her soul. He pulled an empty chair right next to hers, sitting so close their thighs touched. He didn't try to take the pen from her. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, portable heating pack he had grabbed from the car—the kind that stayed warm for hours.
Without a word, he gently tucked it between her stomach and the waistband of her trousers, the heat blooming against her skin like a physical sigh of relief. He then opened the thickest folder, his finger tracing the lines as he began to read aloud for her, his deep, steady voice acting as a bridge through her brain fog.
"Page forty-two," he whispered, leaning his head close to hers. "The intellectual property clause. Read it with me, Jay Jay. Show them who owns this room."
They worked in a bubble of silent, fierce partnership. For every page she signed, he was there to blot the ink, to offer a sip of water, or to squeeze her hand under the table when a particularly bad cramp made her gasp.
With a final, steady stroke of her pen, Jay Jay signed the last document. The ink was barely dry before she clicked the pen shut and slid the folder toward the lead attorney. She didn't look at the board members; she didn't need their validation anymore. The silence in the room was no longer judgmental—it was respectful.
She placed her hands on the edge of the table, her knuckles white as she pushed herself upward. Every muscle in her core screamed in protest, and for a split second, the room tilted. But she gritted her teeth, drawing on that hidden reservoir of steel that defined her. She stood tall, smoothing her blazer with a hand that had finally stopped shaking.
"The merger is complete," she said, her voice clear and authoritative, cutting through the heavy air. "I expect the transition reports on my desk by Monday morning."
Keifer stood with her, a towering presence at her shoulder. He didn't reach out to steady her—not because he didn't want to, but because he understood that this walk out of the room was her victory lap. He watched her with an expression that bordered on worship, his heart swelling at the sight of her reclaiming her power.
She walked toward the door, her pace measured and her head held high. Each step was a battle against the "knife pain," but she didn't let it show in her gait. She passed the spot where Elena had fallen, not even glancing down, and stepped out into the hallway. Only when the heavy oak doors clicked shut behind them did she allow her shoulders to drop an inch.
Keifer was on her in an instant, his arm sliding around her waist to take her weight the moment they were out of sight of the staff.
"You're incredible, butterfly," he breathed against her temple, his voice thick with emotion. "The strongest woman I've ever known."