The sleek glass doors of the Sterling corporate tower slid open, welcoming the morning rush of suit-clad executives and bustling staff.
Ana walked through the lobby, her dark hair styled neatly to cover the faint tension in her shoulders. Her hand was wrapped in a neat white bandage, but the jagged red line of the healing cut on her palm spilled slightly past the gauze... a quiet, stinging reminder of the chaos from the morning before.
The moment she stepped into the marketing department, a chorus of hushed gasps and eager voices greeted her.
"Ana! Oh thank God you’re back!"
Her intern team... Gina, Lilly, Marcus, Gale, and Sam... Instantly swarmed her desk. Marcus looked like he hadn’t slept, while Gina and Lilly reached out, their eyes instantly darting down to her hand.
"Where were you yesterday?" Lilly whispered frantically, her eyes widening as she pointed to the white dressing. "And what happened to your hand?! Did you get hurt?"
"Is everything okay?" Marcus added, his brows pulled low with genuine concern as Sam and Gale leaned in closer. "That looks deep, Ana. Mr Sterling’s assistant just said you took a personal day, but nobody could get a hold of you."
"I... I just had a small household accident with some broken glass," Ana offered a soft, practiced lie, gently curling her fingers inward to hide her palm. She forced a reassuring smile for her team. "I’m fine, really. I’m sorry for leaving you all in the dark. Did the press release go through?"
Before Marcus could answer, a sharp click of heels echoed down the hallway. The interns instantly scattered back to their desks as Clara Reed walked into the bullpen, holding a stack of leather-bound folders.
Clara stopped right in front of Ana’s desk. Her sharp, perceptive eyes scanned Ana’s pale face before locking directly onto her bandaged palm. Her expression hardened with quiet concern.
"Anastasia," Clara said, her tone professional yet layered with an unmistakable edge of gravity. "That looks painful. Make sure you don’t overexert yourself today. But once you settle in, step into my office... the executive committee needed your sign-off on the autumn campaign yesterday, and we need to catch up."
"Of course, Clara. I’ll be right there," Ana replied quietly.
_______________________
Up on the top floor, the atmosphere inside the CEO’s corner office was suffocatingly tense.
Damian stood behind his massive obsidian desk, staring down at three floating holographic screens displaying the company’s real-time share distribution. His dark eyes were locked on a single name: Harrison Stark, CEO of Stark Industries and father to Vivian.
Across from him sat his Chief Financial Officer and two senior legal advisors, all looking thoroughly uncomfortable under the heavy, dangerous aura radiating off their CEO.
"I don’t want excuses," Damian growled low, his baritone slicing through the room like a blade. "I want Harrison Stark stripped of his seat on the board. Force a buy-back of his five percent stake immediately."
The CFO swallowed hard, adjusting his glasses. "Mr. Sterling... With all due respect, it’s not that simple. Harrison Stark has held those shares for over fifteen years. He has deep institutional backing on the board, and his firm controls our primary supply line in the eastern region. If we initiate a hostile squeeze right now, it could trigger a panic among minority shareholders."
"He’s right, sir," the lead legal counsel chimed in carefully. "Removing Stark isn’t impossible, but it isn’t an overnight move. Building a bulletproof legal wedge to liquidate his position without board approval will take time. Months, at least."
Damian slammed his fist onto the mahogany desk, a dark curse leaving his lips.
Dammit.
He had been laying the groundwork to dismantle Harrison Stark’s influence for the last two years, slowly severing the older man’s ties to Sterling’s core operations. But it still wasn’t enough to drop the final hammer today without causing a corporate war that Dante Sullivan could easily exploit.
Damian dismissed the executives with a cold wave of his hand. As the heavy doors shut behind them, he turned to his executive assistant standing near the door.
"Send a direct summons to Vivian Stark," Damian ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal, whisper-thin register. "Tell her to be in my office the second the work day ends. No excuses."
"Right away, Mr. Sterling."
Damian pulled his personal phone from his pocket. Browsing to Ana’s contact, his thumb flew across the screen, typing out a cold, non-negotiable directive.
[Damian]:The driver will be waiting at the private garage at 5 PM sharp. Go straight back home after work. Do not make me ask twice.
_________________________
The afternoon rushed by in a blur of frantic emails and campaign strategy meetings.
While reviewing press releases at her desk, Ana’s elbow accidentally brushed against her mug, spilling steaming hot coffee straight over her bandaged hand. She gasped as the liquid soaked through the white gauze, burning against the raw, open wound beneath.
Hissing in pain, Ana quickly stood up and rushed down the executive hallway into the private washroom.
She stood over the sink, her breath coming in shallow hitches as her clumsy, trembling fingers struggled to unravel the soaked, sticky gauze.
The washroom door opened softly, and Clara Reed stepped inside. Her sharp eyes instantly caught Ana struggling at the sink.
"Anastasia? What happened?" Clara asked, stepping over without hesitation.
"I... I spilled hot coffee over the bandage," Ana whispered, biting her lip.
"Let me help," Clara said gently, setting her portfolio on the counter. She carefully unwrapped the wet dressing, using a clean paper towel to dab away the coffee and blood.
As Clara adjusted the neckline of Ana’s cream sweater to make sure no stray coffee had splashed onto her clothes, her fingers paused. The fabric shifted slightly, exposing a dark, unmistakable bite mark near Ana’s collarbone... a violent, possessive mark left behind from the night before.
Clara’s eyes softened, a heavy, maternal concern settling into her expression. Without saying a word, she reached into her handbag, pulled out a small tube of high-coverage concealer, and gently dabbed it over the mark, blending it seamlessly into Ana’s pale skin.
"Does Damian treat you right, Anastasia?" Clara asked softly, keeping her voice low. "Does he... ever get physically abusive with you?"
Ana’s eyes widened in surprise.
"Your personalities don’t match," Clara continued carefully, looking straight into Ana’s eyes. "Damian is cold, ruthless, and overpowering. You are gentle, but you keep yourself shut off. You don’t let yourself be open and bright around him. It makes me worry."
"No!" Ana blurted out immediately, her heart hammering against her ribs. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to defend the dangerous lie they presented to the world. "No, Clara, that’s not it at all. I know we are polar opposites... but we still love each other."
Clara stared at her for a long moment before giving a soft, approving nod. "As long as partners complement each other, a relationship stays strong."
Clara patted her hand gently before turning toward the door. "By the way, tomorrow evening I’m hosting a team dinner for the marketing department and the interns. You need to be there. No excuses this time."
"I’ll be there," Ana promised quietly.
As Clara left, Ana looked at her reflection in the mirror. Tomorrow she will use her promised day off. She decided she would tell Damian about the team dinner so he wouldn’t force his possessive demands on her tomorrow night. She would take her day off then.
Holding the new bandage on her palm, Ana walked up to the executive suite. The top floor was dead silent, the secretaries already gone for the evening.
Knowing Damian was inside, Ana didn’t bother knocking. She gently turned the brass handle and opened the massive oak door to his office.
"Damian, about tomorrow..."
The words froze in her throat.
Her heart dropped into an icy, bottomless abyss. Her breath caught, her hands going numb as the sight before her shattered whatever fragile sanity she had left.
Damian stood near his desk. Vivian Stark was wrapped around him, her hands clasped tightly behind his neck, her lips pressed passionately against his. Damian held her tightly against his frame.
The soft click of the opening door cut through the heavy silence.
Damian’s head snapped toward the door. The moment his dark, obsidian eyes locked onto Anastasia standing frozen on the threshold, he immediately backed off, shoving Vivian away with a dark, lethal curse ripping from his throat.
"Fuck."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter