SPECIE OF LOVE

FIVE YEARS A SECRET

Chapter 1 - FIVE YEARS A SECRET

Ava opened her eyes at 5:17am, same time she always did. The city outside her tiny apartment window was still dark, streetlights humming against the glass. She didn’t reach for her phone first. She reached for prayer.

“Father, thank You for waking me up. Thank You for breath, for strength, for another chance. Order my steps today. Let my hands be diligent, my words be wise, my heart be guarded. And… God, if it’s not too much to ask… let Damien see me today. Not ‘hey you’. Not ‘my coffee’. Not ‘my schedule’. Let him see Ava. After five years. Just once.”

She whispered the last part with her eyes squeezed shut, like saying it louder would make it less desperate. It didn’t work. She still felt that small, achey hope sitting in her chest.

Ava dragged herself up, pulled on the new navy dress she’d bought two weeks ago and never worn. It hugged her waist and fell just below the knee. Professional. Elegant. Invisible, like everything else she wore to Cole Holdings. But today felt different. Today had to be different.

By 7:30am she was on the elevator up to the 47th floor, two coffees in hand. One black, no sugar. Damien’s. The other light, with caramel. Hers. She’d been making his coffee for five years. She knew the exact second the espresso finished pulling. She knew he preferred his meetings scheduled in 30-minute blocks, not 45. She knew he tapped his pen twice when he was annoyed and ran his thumb along his jaw when he was thinking.

She didn’t know if he knew her last name.

The doors slid open. Cole Holdings. Marble floors, glass walls, the smell of money and cold AC. Her heels clicked against the floor as she moved toward his office. Damien’s office. The corner suite with windows that looked out over the entire city.

He wasn’t there yet. She had thirty minutes. She used twenty of them to straighten files, adjust the desk lamp by two degrees, and rehearse how she’d say “Good morning, Mr. Cole” without her voice shaking.

Then the sound. The door opened at exactly 8:03am.

Damien Cole stepped in like he owned the air in the room. Because he did. Six foot two, dark suit tailored so perfectly it should’ve been illegal, tie knotted with military precision. His jaw was sharp, his eyes even sharper. Gray. The color of storm clouds before they break. He didn’t look at her. He never did. Not really.

“Morning, Mr. Cole,” Ava said, voice steady. Practice paid off.

He nodded once, loosening his cufflinks as he walked to his desk. “Coffee. Schedule.”

She set the black coffee down exactly two inches from the edge of his desk, handle facing left. His preference. Then she opened his tablet, pulled up the day’s itinerary.

“8:30, Zoom with Tokyo investors. 10:00, physical board meeting. 12:15, lunch with Ms. Langford. 2:00, site inspection downtown. 4:30, calls. 7:00, dinner meeting with—”

“Cancel dinner,” he cut in, already scrolling through emails. “Send my apologies. Tell them something came up.”

Ava nodded, fingers flying. “Yes, sir.”

He didn’t say thank you. He never did. He didn’t say “you look nice today” either, even though the navy dress had cost her half her paycheck. He didn’t say “Ava”. He said “you”. Or “hey”. Or nothing at all.

She sighed quietly when she turned back to her desk. Maybe today is just one of those days I don’t get noticed again.

Fourteen hours blurred into one long, aching stretch of work. Zoom calls where she took notes fast enough to cramp her hand. Physical meetings where she stood against the wall, silent, holding folders, refilling water glasses. Damien spoke in clipped, precise sentences. Clients listened like he was delivering scripture. Ava watched his mouth move and told herself she wasn’t studying it.

By 2:14am the office was dead silent. The cleaning crew had come and gone. Her eyes burned from staring at spreadsheets. Her back ached from hunching over Damien’s files. She finished the last report, saved it, closed the laptop.

Oh no. It’s tomorrow already.

Rain had started outside, tapping against the glass like fingertips. Ava pressed her palms against her lower back and stretched. The rain would’ve felt good on her skin right now. Would’ve helped stretch her body, wash the exhaustion out of her bones.

She picked up the finished file and dragged her feet toward Damien’s office. He was still there, of course. He always stayed late. Always worked harder than everyone else. Always carried the weight of Cole Holdings on shoulders that never seemed to bend.

She knocked once, pushed the door open. “The final report, Mr. Cole.”

She set it on his desk. That’s when she saw it. A small brass key, lying on the cabinet under his desk. Half-hidden, but not hidden enough.

Curiosity pricked at her. Damien didn’t leave things lying around. Everything in his office had a place. A key meant something locked. Something hidden.

Her heart did something stupid. It beat faster.

She glanced at him. He was typing, jaw tight, eyes locked on his screen. He wouldn’t notice. He never noticed her.

Ava crouched down, hand trembling as she picked up the key. The cabinet lock clicked open with a soft sound that felt deafening in the silence. Inside, neat and out of place, sat a single black file. No label. No Cole Holdings logo. Just black.

Something that couldn’t be in a billionaire’s office unless someone was hiding a sin.

Her fingers shook as she opened it.

And boom.

Pregnancy Test.

Patient Name: Isabella George

Date: Three weeks ago

Result: POSITIVE

Father: Damien Cole

The words blurred. Then sharpened. Then blurred again.

Isabella George. Damien Cole. Expecting a baby.

Ava’s breath left her like she’d been punched. Five years. Five years of bringing him coffee, memorizing his schedule, learning the way his eyes softened for exactly half a second when he closed a big deal. Five years of loving a man who walked past her every day like she was glass. Invisible. Unbreakable. Unseen.

Her whole world tilted.

Then the doorknob turned.

Boom.

Damien stood in the doorway, tie loosened now, storm-gray eyes locked on her crouched by his cabinet with the black file in her hands.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low. Dangerous. “Aren’t you supposed to be working on the file I gave you?”

Ava’s first thought was irrational and violent. She wanted to punch him. Wipe that cold, unreadable look off his face. Make him feel one fraction of the shattering she felt right now.

Instead, she swallowed, stood up, hands trembling. “S-sorry, sir. This is the file.” She shoved the black file back into the cabinet, slammed it shut, dropped the key on the desk like it burned her.

Damien’s eyes didn’t leave her face. “What did you see, Ava.”

Not “hey you”. He said her name. Ava. And she hated him for it in that moment.

“Nothing, sir,” she whispered. Then she ran.

Her heels clicked frantic against the marble hallway. Heart pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs. Tears blurred her vision before she even felt them fall. Behind her, the sound of Italian leather shoes. Fast. Purposeful.

He caught her by the elbow just before the elevator. Spun her around. His hands were warm and firm on her arms, and for one stupid second she wanted to lean into him.

“What’s wrong?” He wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. The gesture was so gentle it hurt more than the pregnancy test. “Talk to me.”

She shook her head, trying to pull away. “Nothing, Mr. Cole.”

His eyes flashed. Bloodshot. Furious. “What. Did. You. See.”

The words ripped out of her before she could stop them. “Pregnancy test.”

The second she said it, he let go. Like she was fire. Like she’d burned him. He stepped back, jaw ticking, and when he spoke his voice was ice.

“Ava. That is none of your business. You are here for work. Not my personal life.”

She nodded, because what else could she do. “I know, sir.” Then she turned and ran again. Out of the office, into the elevator, into the parking garage. Into her car. Into the rain.

She didn’t stop until she was home. She stepped out of the car and stood in the downpour, dress clinging to her skin, mascara running down her face. She started crying. Then laughing. Hysterical, broken laughter that had no business coming out of her chest.

She was drenched. She didn’t care. The rain washed over her like it could wash away five years of loving a ghost.

Finally, shivering, she went inside. Hot shower. Towel wrapped around her. She sat on the edge of her bed and stared at nothing.

Mind your business, Ava.

The words echoed. Damien’s voice. Cold. Final. An arrow straight to her heart.

She pressed her palms to her eyes until she saw stars.

Then she whispered into the dark room, voice steady with something new. Something dangerous.

“I must find out who this Isabella George is.”

Outside, the rain kept falling.