The atmosphere in the office had shifted.
It wasn't loud.
It wasn't dramatic.
But it was unmistakable.
The whispers that once followed Amara like shadows had thinned. The glances had softened. Some people even smiled at her now—hesitant, apologetic smiles, as if they were silently admitting their mistakes.
Amara noticed everything.
She always did.
She kept her head down, fingers moving steadily across her keyboard, but her senses were alert. Too alert. As though her body knew something wasn't over yet.
Across the floor, Damian stood near the glass partition of his office, pretending to read something on his tablet while actually watching her.
He had been doing that a lot lately.
Not hovering.
Not suffocating.
Just… present.
As if he was standing guard without making it obvious.
And then—
"Amara."
Her shoulders stiffened.
She knew that voice.
Kael.
Damian looked up instantly, his expression darkening the moment he saw Kael standing a few steps away from Amara's desk. The tension was immediate—sharp enough to cut through the office's usual hum.
Kael's gaze didn't flicker toward Damian. His eyes were locked on Amara.
"We need to talk," Kael said, his tone firm, leaving little room for refusal.
Amara inhaled slowly.
Damian stepped forward. "If this is about—"
"It's between me and her," Kael interrupted coldly.
Damian's jaw clenched. "Then maybe you should reconsider your tone."
Before the situation could escalate, Amara stood.
"It's okay," she said softly.
Damian turned to her sharply. "Amara—"
"I need to face him," she continued, her voice steady but quiet. "Now."
He searched her face, conflict evident in his eyes.
"You don't have to," he said, lowering his voice. "Not alone."
She offered him a small, reassuring smile. "I won't be."
That didn't convince him.
Still, after a moment, Damian nodded reluctantly.
"I'll be right here," he said. "Don't forget that."
"I won't," she replied.
As she followed Kael toward his office, Damian's gaze never left her back.
Not for a second.
The moment they were inside, Kael shut the door.
Firmly.
The click of the lock echoed louder than it should have.
Amara turned slowly to face him.
Kael ran a hand through his hair, agitation written all over him. He didn't look at her immediately—his eyes darted to the glass walls, checking if anyone could see inside.
Satisfied that the blinds were drawn enough, he exhaled sharply.
"I don't want people misunderstanding," he said.
Amara didn't respond.
Her silence unsettled him.
"You know how it looks," Kael continued, pacing. "People already think I regret what happened. That I'm chasing after you now."
He scoffed, though it sounded strained. "If they saw me talking to you like this, they'd start thinking I'm begging."
He finally looked at her then.
His pride was bleeding through every word.
Amara met his gaze calmly.
Kael stopped pacing.
"Why aren't you living in the villa anymore?" he demanded. "The six months aren't over yet. There's still one month left. You and my grandfather agreed to it."
She said nothing.
Her eyes didn't waver.
That frightened him.
"You should be there," he pressed. "You always keep your word. That's who you are."
Still nothing.
Kael's chest tightened.
Something was wrong.
"You're not answering," he said more quietly. "Say something."
Amara remained silent—watching him, studying him, as if seeing him clearly for the first time.
The discomfort crawled up Kael's spine.
Her gaze held no longing.
No hope.
No softness.
And that terrified him more than anger ever could.
"You've changed," he said hoarsely.
She didn't deny it.
Instead of addressing the villa, Kael's frustration twisted into something uglier.
"And now you're always with him," he snapped suddenly. "Damian."
Amara's eyes flickered.
Kael seized on it.
"He's just an employee," Kael scoffed. "Do you even know who he is? Compared to me, he's nothing. I'm above him in every way."
That did it.
"Stop."
Her voice was calm.
But it landed like a slap.
Kael froze.
"Don't say his name like that," Amara said quietly.
Kael laughed bitterly. "Why? Because he protected you? Because he played the hero?"
She took a step forward.
"No," she said. "Because he's a better man than you."
The words stunned him into silence.
"You asked about the six months," she continued, her voice steady, controlled. "That arrangement was what you wanted. You wanted distance. You wanted boundaries. You wanted to keep appearances."
Her gaze sharpened.
"So I stayed. I endured. I fulfilled what was agreed."
She swallowed, then added softly, "But I didn't agree to be humiliated."
Kael opened his mouth, but she didn't let him speak.
"You watched people tear me apart," she said. "You watched Clariss hurt me. And you did nothing."
"That's not true—"
"You were more worried about what people would say," she interrupted. "About your pride."
She exhaled slowly.
"Damian never once made me feel small."
That broke something in him.
"You chose him," Kael whispered.
"I chose myself," she corrected.
Kael stepped closer, desperation flickering across his features.
"You don't understand," he said urgently. "He doesn't belong in our world. You'll regret this."
She looked at him with something close to pity.
"I already regret something," she said. "Trusting you."
The words struck deeper than any insult.
She turned toward the door.
"Amara," Kael called.
She paused—but didn't turn around.
"Don't talk about Damian again," she said quietly. "You don't have the right."
And then she walked out.
Leaving Kael alone with the echo of his own choices.
Clariss was waiting.
Not in plain sight.
Not where anyone would notice.
She stood near the far end of the building, phone pressed to her ear, eyes sharp as she watched Amara exit the office floor.
Her lips curled slowly.
"Be ready," she murmured. "She'll be alone soon."
On the other end, a man chuckled softly.
After office hours, the parking area was dim.
Too quiet.
And then—
A scream pierced the air.
Sharp.
Terrified.
Cut short.
Somewhere above, lights flickered.
And fate took a breath.