Chapter 7: The Emergency Board Meeting
1128 Words
8AM. Cole Tower. 50th floor.
The boardroom felt 10 degrees colder than last time.
12 chairs. 12 people. All staring at me.
And at the giant screen behind Vivienne that showed one thing:
My photo. From the press conference.
Hand on my stomach.
Headline underneath:
"BILLIONAIRE BABY? DAMIEN COLE'S SECRET WIFE PREGNANT"
Vivienne stood at the head of the table in a blood-red power suit. Smiling.
"Good morning," she purred. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice."
Damien sat beside me. His hand was on my knee under the table. Anchoring me.
"Get to the point, Vivienne," he said, voice like ice.
"Oh, I am," she said. "The point is: shareholder confidence is tanking. Stock dropped 8% overnight."
She clicked to the next slide. Graphs. Red arrows.
"And the reason?" She looked straight at me. "A secret marriage. And now, a secret pregnancy."
Gasps around the table.
"She’s not secret," Damien said. "She’s my wife."
"A wife you hid for a year," Vivienne shot back. "A pregnancy you hid for 6 weeks. How can we trust you with a 2.4 billion dollar merger when you can’t even be transparent with us?"
All eyes on me again.
My legs were shaking under the table. But Damien’s hand squeezed my knee.
You’ve got this.
I cleared my throat. "May I speak?"
12 heads turned.
Damien looked at me. Surprised. "Ava?"
"I said I could do this," I whispered. "Let me."
He nodded slowly.
I stood up. Navy suit. Low bun. Hands clasped in front of me so they wouldn’t shake.
"Mrs. Hart," I said. "You’re right. We should have been transparent."
Vivienne’s smile widened. She thought she had me.
"But," I continued, "the reason we weren’t is because we were scared. Not of you. Of this."
I gestured to the screen. To the headlines. "Of the world deciding our baby’s worth before it’s even born."
Silence.
"My husband and I made a mistake in Vegas," I said. "A mistake that turned into a marriage. A marriage that turned into..."
I put my hand on my stomach. Just like in the photo. "Into this."
Another gasp.
"I’m not a businesswoman," I said. "I’m a graphic designer. I run a small company. But I know what a family is.
And I know what commitment looks like."
I turned to Damien.
"And I know that the man next to me would burn this company down to protect his people. Including me. Including our child."
Damien’s jaw ticked. His eyes were glassy. He quickly blinked it away.
I turned back to the board.
"So fire him if you want. Vote no on the merger if you want. But you’re not voting against a liability.
You’re voting against a man who’s finally found something worth fighting for."
I sat down.
The room was dead silent.
Then the bald board member cleared his throat.
"Well," he said. "That was... unexpected."
Vivienne laughed. Too loud. "Please. Emotional manipulation. Classic."
"Was it?" Another board member, a woman in her 50s, spoke up. "Because I have 3 kids and 2 grandkids.
And I’d rather have a CEO who cares about family than one who cares about nothing."
Murmurs of agreement.
Vivienne’s face went tight.
"We’re not voting on his character," she snapped. "We’re voting on the merger. All in favor?"
Hands went up. One by one.
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.
11 to 1.
"The merger passes," the bald man said. "Again."
Vivienne slammed her folder shut. "This isn’t over, Damien."
"It is for today," he said, standing. "Come on, Ava."
---
We didn’t speak until we were in the elevator. Alone.
The second the doors closed, Damien pulled me into his arms.
"You were incredible," he murmured into my hair. "You shut her down."
"I was terrified," I admitted.
"I know." He pulled back, hands on my face. "But you did it anyway. For us."
His thumb brushed over my cheek.
"Ava."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
The elevator dinged. 53rd floor.
Back in the penthouse, I collapsed.
"That was worse than the press conference," I said.
"Because it mattered more," Damien said, pouring us both water. "To them. To me."
He handed me a glass. Our fingers brushed.
"So," I said. "What now?"
"Now," he said, "we breathe. For 24 hours. No press. No board. Just us."
He set his glass down and held out his hand.
"Come on."
---
He led me to the bedroom. The master bedroom. Our bedroom.
But instead of the bed, he walked to the window. 53 floors up. City below us.
He pulled me in front of him. Wrapped his arms around me from behind. One hand resting on my stomach.
"We did it," he whispered.
"We did," I agreed.
For a long time, we just stood there. Watching the city.
His heartbeat against my back. His hand warm on me.
"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly.
"Anything."
"Do you want to know the gender? When we find out?"
I turned in his arms. "Do you?"
"I want to know everything," he said honestly. "I missed the first 6 weeks. I don’t want to miss anything else."
My heart melted.
"Then yes," I said. "We find out together."
He smiled. A real smile. Not the CEO one. Not the cold one.
The real one.
And then he kissed me.
It started soft. Gentle. Like he was afraid I’d break.
Then deeper. Like he couldn’t get close enough.
When we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard.
"The baby—" I started.
"Is fine," he finished, forehead against mine. "Dr. Reyes said stress is bad. Not this."
He kissed me again. Slower this time.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
*Message: Cute speech. Too bad no one believes it. You’re still a gold digger. -V*
I showed Damien.
He read it and his whole body went rigid.
"She’s not going to stop," he said.
"Then neither are we," I said.
He nodded. Then he did something I didn’t expect.
He picked me up. Bridal style.
"Damien! What are you doing?"
"Taking my wife to bed," he said simply. "We said 24 hours. No board. No press."
"And the baby?"
"The baby needs parents who aren’t exhausted." He set me down gently on the bed. "So we rest."
He laid down beside me. Pulled me into his arms.
Hand on my stomach again.
"Sleep, Ava," he murmured. "I’ve got you."
And for the first time since Vegas, I believed him.
I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.
To his hand on our baby.
To the feeling of being safe.
Even though outside, Vivienne was probably already planning her next move.
But inside?
Inside, for 24 hours, we were just Damien and Ava.
Expecting.
- Writer
