The flashing bulbs of hundreds of press cameras exploded against the tinted glass doors of the convention center as Damian’s private security team formed a moving wall around them.
Damian didn’t slow his stride for a single second. His large hand remained clamped securely around Ana’s waist, shielding her completely from the roaring crowd of reporters screaming her name.
He guided her straight into the back of the waiting car, slamming the heavy leather door shut and cutting off the deafening noise of the world outside.
The car tore away from the curb.
Inside the cabin, the silence was suffocating. Ana sat huddled against the leather seat, her hands trembling violently in her lap, her face completely drained of color.
Damian sat beside her, staring straight ahead. His profile was carved from pure granite, a dangerous muscle flexing violently in his jaw. The sheer, lethal aura radiating off him made the air in the vehicle feel thin and unbreathable.
"Damian... I swear I didn’t..." Ana started, her voice breaking.
"Quiet," Damian cut in, his baritone dropping into an icy, razor-sharp register that made her heart drop. He turned his head slowly, his obsidian eyes locking onto hers with a dark, terrifying intensity. "We need to have a serious conversation, Anastasia. And you are going to tell me everything."
He wasn’t happy. The raw, volcanic anger coiled tightly behind his eyes was enough to make her blood run cold. He didn’t say another word for the rest of the drive.
Ten minutes later, the car screeched to a halt outside the Sterling Global headquarters.
Damian didn’t take her up to the executive suite right away. Instead, his heavy footsteps echoed thunderously down the polished marble floors as he led her directly into the wide, glass-walled marketing bullpen.
The entire marketing department had already seen the breaking news. The room was in complete, silent panic, employees whispering frantically at their workstations.
"Everyone. Stand up. Now," Damian’s voice boomed across the floor, cold and absolute.
Every single employee flinched, instantly springing out of their chairs. They lined up nervously, staring at the floor, terrified to make eye contact with the towering billionaire.
Damian stood at the front of the floor, his broad frame casting a long, intimidating shadow over the room, holding Ana firmly at his side. His dark eyes swept across every single face in the department like a predator evaluating prey.
"I am going to ask this once," Damian purred coldly, his tone echoing in the dead silence. "Does anyone in this room have something to say?"
A heavy, suffocating stillness fell over the floor. No one dared to breathe.
"Because in five minutes," Damian continued, his voice dropping into a low, lethal threat, "my security team is going to conduct a full, forensic sweep of every security feed, keycard log, and network access record in this building. And if I find out that anyone played a part in targeting my fiancée... your career, your reputation, and your freedom will end today."
Damian waited three agonizing seconds. When no one spoke, a cold, mocking smirk touched his lips. "Very well."
He grabbed Ana’s hand, pulling her toward the private executive elevator and taking her straight up to his top-floor suite.
The moment the heavy double doors of his private office clicked shut behind them, Damian unleashed the storm.
SLAM!
With a brutal flick of his wrist, Damian hurled his smartphone straight onto the leather couch. He reached for the crystal tumbler resting on his desk... and slammed it down onto the hard marble floor with terrifying force.
CRASH!
Shards of glass exploded in every direction, echoing violently through the soundproof room.
Ana jumped, a small gasp escaping her throat as her heart hammered violently against her ribs.
She pressed her back flat against the heavy wooden door, standing completely frozen, her dark eyes wide with fear as she watched the most powerful man in the city tremble with absolute, unbridled rage.
________________________
The air in the executive office was thick with tension, heavy with the sharp scent of spilled scotch and broken glass.
Damian stood behind his massive desk, his knuckles white as he leaned over the wood, breathing heavily.
Across the room, Ana remained pressed tightly against the doorframe, her heart hammering against her ribs, completely silent and terrified to move.
A hesitant knock echoed from the hallway.
Damian’s assistant carefully opened the door, peeking inside with a pale, nervous face. "Mr. Sterling... Ms. Reed and Mr. Vance’s colleague, Marcus, are outside. They insist it’s urgent."
Damian didn’t even look up, his dark eyes fixed on the shattered glass on the floor. "Tell them to get out."
"Wait... Mr Sterling, please," Clara’s voice cut through as she pushed past the assistant into the room, Marcus following closely behind her.
Both of them froze the moment they stepped inside. Marcus’s eyes widened at the shattered crystal on the marble floor before darting toward the corner, spotting Ana standing pale and trembling. A dark, irritated scowl instantly crossed Damian’s face as his lethal gaze landed squarely on Marcus.
"You have five seconds to give me a reason not to throw you off this balcony," Damian purred, his baritone laced with dangerous, volatile irritation.
"Damian, listen to him!" Clara urged, stepping forward cautiously, keeping her voice steady. "Marcus knows who might have done this to Anastasia."
Damian’s eyes narrowed into razor-sharp slits. "Speak."
Marcus swallowed hard, taking a step toward the desk while being careful to avoid the glass.
"On Tuesday, during the lunch hour, I came back to the bullpen to grab some files. Anastasia was down in the cafeteria with Clara. But there was a girl standing right at her desk, messing around with her computer."
Ana’s head snapped up, her dark eyes widening in shock.
"When I asked her what she was doing on Anastasia’s workstation," Marcus continued, "she acted extremely jumpy. She claimed she came to congratulate Ana on the engagement news. I told her the computer should be locked, but she swore it was already wide open when she walked up and immediately left."
"Why didn’t you mention this earlier?" Damian spat, his voice deadly quiet.
"I thought she was just being nosy!" Marcus defended quickly. "Ana didn’t think much of it either when I mentioned it. But after seeing the files leak today... it couldn’t have been a coincidence."
"My security team is already pulling the main corridor feeds," Damian gritted out, dragging his fingers through his hair. He rounded his desk, tapping his terminal. "Give me the exact date and time."
"Tuesday. Between 12:15 PM and 12:30 PM," Marcus replied without hesitation.
Damian typed rapidly into his encrypted system. Within seconds, a high-definition CCTV video file pinged straight onto his primary monitor from the Security Directorate.
Clara and Marcus leaned over the desk, watching the timestamped footage play. The video showed the quiet, empty marketing bullpen. Seconds later, a young woman in a pencil skirt slipped through the glass doors, looking around nervously before dropping straight into Ana’s chair.
"That’s her," Marcus pointed at the screen.
Clara gasped, her eyes flashing with instant recognition. "I know her! That’s Mia... she works down in PR now, but she used to be Vivian Stark’s junior assistant!"
Damian’s face contorted into pure, murderous fury. A low, filthy curse tore from his throat.
"Vivian..." Damian hissed, his voice dropping into a register so dark it made the hair on the back of Marcus’s neck stand up.
He slammed his hand onto his desk phone, speed-dialing his Head of Security. The call connected instantly. "Chief. Bring Mia from Public Relations up to my suite immediately. I want her locked in a holding."
There was a brief pause on the line before the Security Chief responded, his tone apologetic. "Mr. Sterling, we just checked the building’s digital access system. Mia never checked into the building today. Her keycard hasn’t been scanned since yesterday afternoon."
Damian’s jaw set so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek. She had taken the files, handed them over, and fled.
"Find her," Damian ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal whisper. "Track her phone, her credit cards, her apartment. Bring her to me."
He slammed the receiver down, staring blankly at the screen as the pieces of the sickening puzzle fell into place. Vivian Stark had used her old connection to steal the files, handing them right over to Vance Enterprises to set this trap.
"Damian..." Marcus’s voice suddenly broke through the heavy silence, sounding strangely hesitant and alarmed.
Damian didn’t look up. "What?"
Marcus looked around the wide office, his eyebrows pulling together in sudden confusion.
"Wait... where’s Anastasia?"
Damian’s heart stopped.
He whipped his head around toward the corner of the room. The space near the door was completely empty. The heavy wooden door was slightly ajar... and Anastasia was gone.
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