Raymond knelt, the movent fluid and cautious, as if approaching sothing fragile. For a heartbeat, his hand hovered in the dead space between them, a mont of sharp, static hesitation.
Then, he let it settle. His palm ca to rest over Amara’s, shielding the exact spot where the life beneath her skin was stirring.
Amara froze. The warmth of his hand felt disturbingly familiar, a ghost of a sensation she couldn’t quite place.
A flash of indignation flared in her chest. How dare he? He was a new hire, a stranger paid to be useful, not intimate. Yet, as she looked at him, she wavered; perhaps it was just the clumsy, misguided reflex of a man trying to help a pregnant woman navigate the treacherous depths of a sofa.
Then, it happened. A kick.
It was strong, a sharp, undeniable thrum against his palm. Raymond’s breath hitched, the sound catching jaggedly in his throat. He didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers tensed, as if the jolt had traveled through his skin and struck sothing deep within his own marrow.
When he looked up, the professional mask had cracked. His eyes had softened, losing the polished sheen of an employee. There was a raw, aching recognition in his gaze that didn’t belong in their contract, a look that spanned years they didn’t have.
Amara recoiled, yanking her hand back as if burned. She shoved herself into the cushions, her entire body going rigid, the air between them suddenly thick with a truth she wasn’t ready to na.
"That’s enough." Her voice was quiet. But firm. The mont snapped. Raymond blinked, as he had just co back to himself. Realizing. Too late. What he had done.
"I... I’m sorry," he said quickly, standing up. "I didn’t an to—"
"You need to leave." No hesitation now. No softness. Raymond nodded. Once. Twice. Backing away.
Then the baby kicked again when Raymond was about to move his hand. But this ti. It didn’t feel the sa. Because sothing about that mont... Was wrong. And she couldn’t ignore it anymore.
"Oh my—" The words slipped out of Raymond before he could stop them. His hand moved. Too fast. Too instinctive. He felt it again. The kick. Strong. Alive. Undeniable.
"It’s kicking..." he whispered, almost to himself, as he had just witnessed sothing sacred twice in a row. For a mont. Everything about him changed. The tension. The guarded posture. The careful distance. Gone.
What replaced it? Was awe. Pure. Unfiltered. His eyes glistened, breath catching as if the mont had reached sowhere deep inside him.
"That’s my boy..." The words slipped. And the second, they did. Raymond froze. Too late. Reality slamd back in. His jaw tightened, his tongue pressing hard against his teeth like he could pull the words back. Like he could undo them. Amara stilled. Her gaze slowly lifted to him.
Sothing wasn’t right. Raymond stepped back quickly, forcing a shaky breath, scrambling for control.
"I’m sorry," he said, his voice uneven now. "I just...I got excited." He gave a small, awkward laugh, though his eyes were still wet. "I don’t even know why I’m this emotional... this is amazing."
Amara watched him. Carefully. "Don’t let that happen again," she said, her tone calm but no longer uncertain. "You should leave." Raymond nodded imdiately.
"Yes, ma’am." And just then. The door opened. Julian walked in. A paper bag in hand. The faint sll of spice fills the room. His eyes moved quickly. From Amara.
To Raymond. And stilled. "What are you doing here?" Raymond straightened instantly. "Nothing, sir, I just—" Julian didn’t wait. He didn’t care for explanations. He stepped forward, closing the distance in seconds, his presence shifting the entire room.
Controlled. Cold. "Listen to carefully," Julian said, his voice low enough that it didn’t carry...but sharp enough to cut. "This space is off-limits." Raymond swallowed.
"Stay at your desk," Julian continued, his gaze unwavering. "Keep this up... and you’ll leave sooner than you ca." No raised voice. No scene. Just certainty.
Raymond nodded quickly. "Yes, sir." Julian held his gaze for one second longer. Then stepped aside. That was the dismissal. Raymond didn’t wait.
He walked out. But even then. His shoulders were tight. His pace is just slightly off. And for the first ti. He didn’t look back. The door closed.
Silence. And just like that. Julian shifted. The edge disappeared. The tension dissolved. He turned back to Amara, a soft smile already forming as if nothing had happened at all.
"Hey," he said gently. "You good?" Like he hadn’t just threatened a man out of the room. Like his entire world wasn’t quietly unraveling beneath the surface. Just him. And her.
"Yes," Amara nodded. Then, like nothing heavy existed in the world. "Well... did you get it?" Julian let out a small breath, almost amused despite everything.
"Yes, I did." He handed over the bag, stepping back slightly, giving her space. That was their thing now. Small monts. Quiet understanding. Amara opened it imdiately, the sll hitting her first. "Nice," she said with a soft smile, already reaching in.
Julian watched her. And for a second. He forgot everything else. A pregnant woman, fully focused on spicy chicken legs that barely had at on them.
He shook his head slightly, almost in disbelief. "You’re really eating that..." Amara didn’t even look up. "Don’t judge ." A small smile tugged at his lips. But it didn’t last.
Because the truth. Was still sitting in his chest. Heavy. Waiting. Julian’s expression shifted. Slightly. Carefully. "There’s sothing I’ve been holding off on," he said. Amara paused mid-bite.
Just slightly. "The damaged footage from the night of your mother’s murder..." he continued, watching her closely. "It was recovered." A breath.
"Not all of it. But so." Now. She stopped completely. "It shows... Amira," Julian said quietly. "Leaving your mother’s study." A pause.
"Around the ti of her death." Silence. Thick. Imdiate. Amara slowly placed the food down. Her appetite was gone in an instant. She reached for a tissue. Wiped her hands. Carefully. Precisely. Still. Not saying a word. "Amara..." Julian stepped closer, his voice softer now. "Say sothing."
A beat. "I didn’t want to bring it up today. But I don’t like hiding things from you."
Nothing. Then. She moved. Fast. She grabbed her jacket. Her handbag. "Amara, where are you going?" Julian asked, already following her. But she didn’t answer.
She was already at the door. "Jas!" Her voice cut through the entire space. Sharp. Commanding. Everything stopped. Conversations died mid-sentence. Heads turned. The energy shifted instantly.
Jas looked up first, confusion written all over his face. "Amara...?" Julian reached her side just as the room fully stilled. Watching. Waiting. And whatever was about to happen. Everyone felt it.
Because Amara didn’t look confused. She didn’t look emotional. She looked. Certain. And that was far more dangerous. "Amara, listen to .."
"Julian," she cut in, her voice low but burning, "I am so angry right now... so please don’t say anything else."
That was all it took. Julian stopped. Not because he didn’t have more to say. But because he knew that tone. There was no reaching her when she sounded like that.
"Jas," Amara called, not even turning back. "Get the driver." Within minutes. They were on the move. The drive was silent.
Heavy. The kind of silence that didn’t invite interruption. Julian sat beside her, watching. Careful. asured. He wanted to say sothing. To steady her. To slow her down.
But he didn’t. Because right now. Amara wasn’t soone who could be slowed. "I’m coming with you," he said instead. She didn’t argue.
And that said enough. The car pulled up in front of Pedro Corporation. For a mont. Amara didn’t move. The building stood tall.
Familiar. And yet. Not. mories hit all at once. Her father. Strong. Untouchable. Her mother. Graceful. Brilliant. Then her. Fighting. Building. Holding everything together.
And now. It felt like none of it belonged to her anymore. Like she was standing outside her own life. The car door opened. Amara stepped out. Her walk had changed.
Of course it had. Eight months pregnant, her body carried weight, her pace slower than it once was. But the urgency in her steps? The fire? That hadn’t changed.
If anything. It had sharpened. Julian stepped out beside her. Jas followed, with two bodyguards close behind. They moved as one.
Inside. Everything shifted. Staff noticed imdiately. Heads turned. Whispers followed. Amara. Not the forr CEO. Not anymore. But still. Sothing more.
Respect lingered in their eyes. Unspoken. Heavy. Especially now. Because everyone knew what Amira had been doing to the company. The bad decisions. The quiet damage. The slow collapse.
And looking at Amara now. Walking back in like a storm that had finally decided to return. They felt it. This is what we lost. But Amara didn’t look at them. Didn’t acknowledge the whispers.
Didn’t slow down. Her focus was straight ahead. Julian watched her closely. Trying to read her. Trying to understand what she was about to do. But he couldn’t. Because her face. Was calm. Too calm.
And that? That was more dangerous than anger. The elevator doors opened. She stepped in without hesitation. And as the doors slid shut. One thing beca clear. Amara wasn’t here to question anything. She was here for answers. And soone. Was about to give them.
"Where is she?"
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