The Billionaire's Secretary:His Biggest Regret

Chapter 8 :Everything Fell Apart

Clara’s POV

“Did you finish the vendor list for the Hale gala?” Priya drops into the chair across from my desk, balancing two coffees and clearly in the mood to chat.

“Almost. I’m just waiting on confirmation from the florist.” I take the coffee she offers, grateful for the small kindness. “Why do you look like you have gossip?”

“Because I might.” Priya leans in, lowering her voice even though the floor is nearly empty this early in the afternoon. “Someone said Vanessa left in a mood yesterday. Like, a real mood. Slammed-elevator-button kind of mood.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” I keep my eyes on my monitor, though my pulse ticks up slightly at the memory of exactly how tense that hallway felt yesterday.

“Uh huh.” Priya doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go, sipping her coffee instead. “Anyway. I have a dentist appointment at three, so if anyone asks, I stepped out for a client call.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” I manage something close to a real smile, grateful for the ordinary, easy rhythm of an ordinary conversation, the kind that doesn’t require me to examine anything too closely.

“Speaking of secrets.” Priya lowers her voice further, glancing toward Damian’s office down the hall. “You know you can talk to me, right? If there’s anything going on that you’re not telling me.”

“There’s nothing going on, Priya.” I keep my eyes on the vendor spreadsheet, refusing to give the question more weight than it deserves. “I promise.”

“Okay.” She holds up both hands, backing off, though her expression says she doesn’t fully believe me. “I’m just saying. I’m here.”

“I know.” I mean it more than I let my voice show. “Thank you.”

Priya heads back to her desk a few minutes later, and I settle into the quiet, one of the only truly quiet hours my entire week affords me, pulling up the vendor spreadsheet and letting myself breathe for the first time all day.

My mother’s heart condition has been a fact of my life for almost four years now, ever since the first diagnosis came back worse than any of us expected. I’ve learned to live around it the way you learn to live around a permanent weather pattern, checking in every few days, bracing for the calls that come more often than any of us want to admit. Most days, she’s fine. Most days, I let myself believe the worst has already happened and we’re simply managing what’s left.

Today doesn’t feel like most days.

My phone rings during the one quiet hour of my entire week, and I almost don’t answer it, thinking it’s another vendor with another merger question I don’t have the energy for.

“Cole Industries, Clara Bennett speaking.” I balance the phone against my shoulder, still typing an email with my free hand.

“Clara.” Mia’s voice comes through ragged, breathless, all wrong. “You need to get to St. Agnes. Now.”

“What happened?” I’m already on my feet, my chair rolling back and hitting the wall behind me. “Mia, what happened?”

“Mom collapsed at home. The ambulance just left, I’m following in a cab, they said something about her heart, Clara, I don’t—” Her voice breaks apart entirely. “Please just come.”

“I’m coming. I’m on my way right now.” I grab my bag, hands shaking so badly I nearly drop my phone twice trying to end the call. “Text me the room number the second you know it.”

“Please hurry.” Mia’s voice cracks on the last word.

“I will, Mia, I promise. Stay with her, okay? Don’t let them tell you anything without you actually understanding it.” I’m already moving toward the door, my coat half off the hook, my mind splitting in six directions at once. “I love you. I’m coming.”

“Okay.” A shaky breath on the other end. “Okay. Hurry.”

The line goes dead before I can say anything else.

I stand frozen at my desk for one second, two, my mind racing through everything at once. The merger timeline. The Hale contract review scheduled in twenty minutes. The fact that if I leave without warning, without explanation, it could look exactly like the kind of unreliability that gets someone quietly pushed out of a project this important.

None of it matters, not really, not with my mother in an ambulance somewhere in this city. But some small, exhausted part of me still runs the calculations anyway, because six years of being the reliable one doesn’t just switch off because of an emergency.

“Clara?” Priya pops back up from her desk, alarm crossing her face the second she sees mine. “What happened? You’re white as a sheet.”

“My mother. She collapsed. I have to get to the hospital.” I’m already grabbing my bag, my hands shaking too badly to close the clasp properly. “Can you tell the Hale team I had to step out? I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“Don’t worry about the Hale team, just go.” Priya rounds her desk fast, steadying my arm for a second. “Do you need me to call you a car? Do you need anything?”

“I already called one. I just need to get downstairs.” My voice comes out thinner than I mean it to, panic threading through every word. “Thank you, Priya.”

“Go. Now. I’ve got everything here.” She squeezes my hand once before letting go, already reaching for her own phone to start managing whatever fallout my sudden absence might cause.

I fumble with my phone as I walk, texting Mia with fingers that won’t quite cooperate. On my way. Car’s five minutes out. Stay with her. I hit send and shove the phone into my coat pocket, my mind already racing ahead to St. Agnes, to my mother’s face, to every version of this afternoon that ends badly.

I grab my coat, only half on, and I’m halfway to the elevator when I nearly collide with Damian coming around the corner.

“Clara?” He catches my arm, steadying me before I can stumble, his expression shifting instantly from distracted to alarmed. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re about to fall apart.”