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The office was nearly empty by 9:43 p.m.
Most of the staff had gone home hours ago. Even the executive floor was dark, lit only by the cool glow of computer screens and city lights streaming through the glass windows.
Amara was still at her desk, rubbing her temples and sipping water as she reviewed Damian's revised pitch deck for the Tokyo investors.
She hadn't seen him since they returned from the gala the night before. Not in meetings, not in passing. But his presence lingered-like the scent of a distant storm waiting to strike.
She should have gone home. But something told her tonight was not meant to end early.
At 10:01 p.m., his door opened.
Damian stepped out, jacket off, black shirt rolled up at the sleeves, jawline sharper under the fluorescent glow.
"You're still here," he said.
She looked up, startled. "I was finalizing the Tokyo files."
A nod. "Come."
She followed him into his private office.
To her surprise, he didn't return to his desk. Instead, he walked to the balcony-a massive stretch of glass and stone overlooking the city skyline. A cool breeze stirred his shirt slightly as he leaned on the railing.
Amara hesitated in the doorway.
"Join me," he said without turning.
She stepped out. The view was breathtaking. Lagos shimmered in gold and neon below them, alive and chaotic and beautiful.
He spoke without looking at her.
"Everyone wants to know what broke me."
Amara blinked. "Excuse me?"
"That's what they whisper behind my back. 'What happened to Damian?' 'Why is he like that?' Some think it was power. Money. Zara thinks it was my father."
She didn't say anything.
Then he said quietly, "It was none of those things. It was a woman."
A stillness settled between them.
Her name was Eliana.
"She was my first real... choice. Not arranged. Not expected. She was brilliant. Free-spirited. The kind of person who could walk into a room and make the lights feel like they were dimming just for her."
He smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"We met in Paris. She was studying architecture. I was setting up OrionTech's French subsidiary. We lived together for a while. Made plans. Talked about moving to New York."
Amara listened in silence, heart softening.
"But she had a rare heart condition. She knew it when we met. She didn't tell me until she collapsed one night and I found her in the bathroom, unconscious."
His voice cracked slightly.
"I spent three months chasing doctors, specialists, treatment trials. Burned money. Flew her to Geneva. Nothing worked. She died in my arms the day before her birthday."
Amara's throat tightened.
"I'm... sorry," she whispered.
He looked at her now.
"She knew she was dying. But she chose to live like she had forever."
His gaze sharpened. "You remind me of her. Not in how you look. But in how you move. Like you're running out of time."
Amara's breath caught.
She turned away too quickly, looking out at the city again.
"Is that why you hired me?" she asked, voice low. "Because I remind you of someone who's gone?"
"Partly," he said honestly. "But also because you're different. You walk into a storm and don't ask who caused it. You just start sweeping the broken glass."
They stood in silence.
Then Amara asked, almost to herself, "Did you love her?"
He didn't answer right away.
"I did," he said finally. "And I swore I'd never love anyone again."
Amara nodded, heart pounding.
"That's the problem with swearing," she whispered. "It never accounts for fate."
He looked at her then-really looked-and for a second, she swore the space between them pulsed.
But then his phone buzzed, snapping the moment in half.
He stepped back. "Meeting at 7 a.m. tomorrow. Don't be late."
She nodded, but the tightness in her chest lingered.
That night, Amara stood in front of her bathroom mirror.
She peeled off her blouse, revealing the small scar below her collarbone where the biopsy had been taken. She traced it with her fingertip.
Eliana had a heart condition.
Amara had a ticking time bomb in her lungs.
Maybe that was the real reason he saw her.
Not because she was remarkable.
But because she was temporary.