Ana couldn’t even answer. Her throat felt completely dry, and her body was shaking from the cold air and the intense frustration inside her.
Damian didn’t step back. He kept his dark eyes locked on her face, his gaze turning critical as he scanned her thin collarbones and the pale skin of her shoulders. His smirk faded, replaced by a cold, serious expression.
"Look at yourself," Damian said, his voice dropping into a harsh, demanding tone. "You look like a hospital patient. You are pale, thin, and weak. This is not the woman I married, and it is certainly not the form I want you in."
Did he... did he just insult me?
Ana gritted her teeth, glaring at him through her tears. "I worked three jobs and barely slept for two years because of your deadline, Damian! What did you expect?"
"I expect you to take care of my property," Damian countered coldly. He placed his large hands on the desk, framing her hips and trapping her completely. "From now on, you will take my words seriously. You will eat every single meal I provide. You will follow a daily exercise routine to get your strength back. I want you healthy, glowing, and strong enough to handle everything I demand from you. Especially the commands I’ll give behind the closed doors."
He leaned in until his nose almost touched hers, his breath hot against her lips.
"If you skip another meal, or if you dare to neglect your health again, I won’t just punish you. I will nullify the divorce papers immediately and drag you back to the altar. You have three seconds to answer me. Do you understand?"
The sheer authority in his voice left no room for rebellion. Ana swallowed her pride, her voice trembling as she finally gave in.
"Yes," she whispered, looking down at his chest. "I understand, Master."
Damian’s smirk slowly returned, dark and satisfied. He stood up straight and picked up her silk top, tossing it into her lap.
"Good girl," he said smoothly. "Put your clothes on and go back to bed. We leave for Manhattan early tomorrow morning."
He turned on his heel, pulling his ringing phone out of his pocket once more. As he walked toward the tall glass window, he slid the phone to his ear, his voice instantly dropping into a cold, professional tone as he began discussing business with whoever was on the other end.
Ana’s hands were shaking as she pulled the silk shirt over her shoulders. Her face burned with anger and humiliation. Shivering in the chilly room, she hurriedly began to button the top, her fingers fumbling with the small fabric loops.
As she leaned forward to reach the bottom buttons, her eyes caught a thick manila folder resting on the corner of his grand mahogany desk.
Wait... is that...?
Right on top of the folder was a paper clipped color photo. It was her. A recent photo taken from a distance... likely by one of his spies.
Ana glanced over her shoulder. Damian’s back was entirely turned to her as he paced in front of the window, deeply engrossed in his phone call.
Heart pounding in her chest, she seized the opportunity. She crept closer to the desk and flipped the cover of the folder open. It was a massive stack of medical documents. She froze, her eyes scanning the pages.
It was her complete medical file.
She looked back up at Damian. He was still talking, his deep baritone humming quietly against the glass pane.
Driven by an overwhelming rush of adrenaline, Ana turned the pages quickly, reading what he had gathered about her. It started out with the usual, basic information... her blood type, her known allergies, her routine check-ups from years ago.
But as she flipped toward the back, to the records detailing the last two years of her life, her breath completely caught in her throat. The paper in her hands began to tremble so violently that it rustled against the desk.
What the hell!
The color drained from her face. A cold, suffocating dread wrapped tightly around her heart.
He knows.
Her tear filled eyes read over the cold, clinical text detailing a private clinic visit from fourteen months ago. The words on the paper blurred together, but the diagnosis stood out in stark, terrifying clarity.
"You really are a curious little thing, aren’t you?"
The smooth, dark voice sliced through the silence of the study.
Ana gasped, dropping the papers back onto the desk. Her head snapped toward the window. Damian had already hung up the phone. He was standing right there, looming over her, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at her with an unreadable, chilling expression.
Tears finally spilled over her lower lashes, hot and burning as they tracked down her pale cheeks. Her voice broke completely, reduced to a fragile, devastated whisper.
"You knew..." she choked out, her hands clutching her chest as her whole world shattered. "You knew... about the baby?"
Damian didn’t answer right away. He stood perfectly still, his eyes dropping down to the medical documents scattered across the dark mahogany desk. For a single, fleeting second, the terrifying mask of the Devil slipped.
Ana saw it... a sharp, sudden flash of absolute hollowness in his eyes, a dark shadow of raw grief that she had never seen on his face before.
But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. His expression hardened, twisted by a sudden, violent surge of anger. The veins on his neck corded, and his eyes burned with a lethal fury that made the room temperature drop.
He took a slow, heavy step toward her, his presence being utterly suffocating.
"You mean," Damian said, his voice dropping into a low, menacing hiss that shook her to the core, "the baby who could have seen the light of the world if you hadn’t left me?"
A wave of pure fury and agonizing pain suddenly exploded inside Anastasia’s chest. All the fear, the exhaustion, and the grief she had carried alone for two years rushed to the surface.
She didn’t care about his power. She didn’t care about the contract. She just wanted him to bleed the way she was bleeding.
Before he could react, Ana snapped.
SLAP!
The sharp, echoing crack of her hand hitting his cheek cut through the silent study. Damian’s head snapped to the side, as the force of the strike caught him off guard.
Ana stood trembling on the edge of the desk, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her face as she glared down at him with pure hatred.
"The baby would have seen the light of this world," she choked out, gritting her teeth as she spat the venomous words directly into his face, "if you weren’t the father!"
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