THE FIRST CRACK....
1840 Words
Damian Blackwood hated Mondays.
He hated meetings.
He hated unexpected phone calls.
He hated people who talked too much.
But lately, there was something else he hated even more.
Thinking about Amara Cole.
It had been three days since Victor Hale's disastrous meeting, yet Damian could still remember the exact expression on Amara's face when Victor insulted her.
She had smiled.
That was what bothered him.
She always smiled when people hurt her.
As if smiling could convince everyone—including herself—that nothing had happened.
Damian had noticed.
He noticed far more than he wanted to.
That morning, he arrived at Blackwood Holdings before seven.
His office was dark except for the city lights shining through the windows.
He placed his briefcase on the desk and opened his laptop.
Work.
That was what he needed.
Work would silence his thoughts.
At seven twenty-three, his phone rang.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
His security chief was calling.
“What?”
“We've completed the background check you requested.”
Damian leaned back.
“Go ahead.”
“Noah Cole is fine. The incident at school was minor.”
Damian's shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Anything else?”
There was a pause.
“His sister is his legal guardian.”
Damian's expression changed.
“I know.”
“She has been supporting him since their parents died.”
“I know.”
“She works two jobs occasionally when her salary isn't enough.”
Damian became still.
“What?”
“She hasn't told anyone at the company.”
He stared at the city outside his window.
“Why not?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
The security chief hesitated.
“Sir?”
Damian's voice hardened.
“I said find out.”
The call ended.
Damian looked down at his phone.
He shouldn't care.
Amara was his employee.
That was all.
But somehow, that explanation wasn't enough anymore.
---
At eight exactly, Amara walked into his office.
She carried two coffees.
Damian looked up.
“What's that?”
“Your coffee.”
“I didn't ask for it.”
“I know.”
She placed it on his desk.
He glanced at the cup.
“Why?”
“Because you looked like you needed it.”
His eyes moved toward her.
“Do I look tired?”
“You always look tired.”
“That wasn't an answer.”
“It was.”
Amara sat in the chair opposite him.
Damian studied her.
“You didn't sleep.”
She blinked.
“How do you know?”
“Your eyes.”
She immediately touched her face.
“What about them?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you looking?”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
Damian looked away.
“Meeting at nine.”
“I know.”
“Then prepare the documents.”
“They're already prepared.”
He glanced at the folder beside her.
“Good.”
Silence.
Amara didn't leave.
Damian looked at her.
“What?”
She smiled.
“You're becoming predictable.”
“I doubt that.”
“You are.”
“How?”
“You pretend you don't care about anything.”
“I don't.”
“You do.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“About what?”
“People.”
“No.”
“You care about your grandparents.”
“That's different.”
“You care about your company.”
“Obviously.”
“You care about your employees.”
“That's my responsibility.”
“You care about me.”
Damian froze.
Amara smiled.
“I knew it.”
“You're mistaken.”
“Then why did you stop breathing?”
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
He looked at her.
She laughed.
“You're fun when you're annoyed.”
“I am not fun.”
“You are.”
“Leave.”
“You're blushing.”
“Amara.”
She laughed and walked out.
Damian waited until the door closed.
Then he touched his face.
He wasn't blushing.
Absolutely not.
---
The day passed quickly.
Amara was buried in work.
Damian was buried in meetings.
By lunch, Amara hadn't eaten.
Damian noticed.
He looked at the clock.
One fifteen.
He pressed the intercom.
“Amara.”
“Yes?”
“Come in.”
She entered with three folders.
“What do you need?”
“Have you eaten?”
She blinked.
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
She looked away.
“What?”
“You're lying.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you're useless when you're hungry.”
She stared.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“That was almost concern.”
“It wasn't.”
She smiled.
“I'll eat.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“Now.”
“Damian.”
“Now.”
She crossed her arms.
“Are you ordering me to eat?”
“Yes.”
“You're unbelievable.”
“And you're stubborn.”
She sighed.
“Fine.”
She turned to leave.
“Amara.”
She stopped.
He opened the drawer beside him and took out a lunch box.
She stared.
“What is that?”
“Food.”
“You ordered food?”
“Yes.”
“For me?”
His expression remained blank.
“You haven't eaten.”
Amara slowly smiled.
“You really do care.”
Damian looked away.
“Eat.”
She took the box.
“Thank you.”
“Don't make it emotional.”
She laughed.
“Too late.”
---
That afternoon, Amara received a phone call.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Her expression changed.
“I'm sorry?”
Damian looked up immediately.
Amara stood from her desk.
“What happened?”
She listened.
Then her face became pale.
“Okay.”
She ended the call.
Damian walked toward her.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Amara.”
She looked at him.
“My landlord called.”
“What about?”
She swallowed.
“He says the rent has increased.”
Damian's expression remained calm.
“How much?”
She told him.
His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“When is it due?”
“Two weeks.”
“Can you afford it?”
She smiled weakly.
“I'll manage.”
“You shouldn't have to.”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He walked back into his office.
Amara stared after him.
---
That evening, Damian received a message.
Rent issue. Two weeks. Amount attached.
He stared at it.
He had asked someone to investigate.
He had not expected the answer to make him angry.
He could solve the problem in seconds.
One transfer.
One phone call.
One signature.
But he knew Amara.
If he offered her money, she would refuse.
So he did something else.
He called the property management company.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn't expecting—”
“You'll renew Miss Cole's lease at the current rate.”
There was a pause.
“But—”
“No increase.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don't tell her I was involved.”
“Yes, sir.”
Damian ended the call.
He leaned back.
For a moment, he felt satisfied.
Then he frowned.
Why?
He had solved the problem.
But he knew Amara would probably be angry if she found out.
---
At nine that night, Amara was still working.
Damian entered the office area.
“You're still here.”
“So are you.”
“I asked first.”
She smiled.
“You're starting to sound like me.”
“I don't like that.”
She laughed.
Damian noticed the tiredness in her face.
“Go home.”
“I have work.”
“I'll finish it.”
“No.”
“Amara.”
“I can do it.”
He stared at her.
She stared back.
Then she sighed.
“You know what my problem is?”
“I can name several.”
She smiled.
“My parents.”
Damian's expression changed.
Amara continued.
“After they died, everything became my responsibility.”
She looked down at the papers.
“No one was coming to rescue us.”
Damian remained silent.
“So I learned to do everything myself.”
She laughed softly.
“Sometimes I think I don't know how to accept help.”
“Why?”
“Because accepting help feels like admitting I can't handle my life.”
Damian's voice was quiet.
“Can you?”
She looked at him.
“What?”
“Handle everything?”
Amara didn't answer.
He stepped closer.
“You don't have to.”
Her eyes softened.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand more than you think.”
She looked at him.
Damian's expression changed.
“My parents died when I was twenty.”
Amara knew.
But she had never heard him speak about it.
“I was suddenly responsible for everything.”
His voice remained controlled.
“The company. The estate. People who expected me to know what to do.”
He looked away.
“I didn't.”
Amara's eyes softened.
“You were twenty.”
“Yes.”
“You were just a kid.”
“I wasn't allowed to be.”
The words were quiet.
But they carried years of pain.
Amara stood.
She walked toward him.
“Damian.”
He looked at her.
“You don't have to be strong every second.”
His expression shifted.
She reached out and lightly touched his arm.
It was the smallest gesture.
Nothing dramatic.
But Damian froze.
Nobody touched him like that.
Not anymore.
He looked down at her hand.
Then back at her.
Amara slowly removed it.
“Sorry.”
“Don't.”
She stopped.
“Don't apologize.”
Their eyes met.
For several seconds, neither moved.
There was something between them.
Something neither understood.
Something neither was ready to name.
Then Damian stepped back.
“Go home.”
Amara nodded.
“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
She left.
Damian watched the door close.
He stood there for a long time.
Then he looked at the place where her hand had touched his arm.
And for the first time since his parents died—
The walls he'd built around himself felt less like protection.
And more like a prison.
---
The next morning, Damian arrived at work to find Amara laughing with Elias in the lobby.
He stopped.
Elias was holding a small package.
Amara opened it and smiled.
Damian's expression darkened.
He walked past them without saying anything.
Amara noticed.
“Damian!”
He didn't stop.
She frowned.
Elias looked at her.
“He seems angry.”
“He always seems angry.”
“No.”
Elias watched Damian disappear into the elevator.
“That was different.”
Amara looked toward the elevator.
She didn't know it yet.
But the first c***k had appeared.
And Damian Blackwood was about to discover that jealousy was much harder to control than anger.
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