Chapter 204: The Devil’s Woman Knows Her Stand

The glass-and-steel monolith of Sterling Global Headquarters was suffused with a nervous, electric hum the moment Damian’s convoy arrived.

?The blood tests in Westchester had delivered their verdict late the previous night: negative. Pseudocyesis. There was no child, no pregnancy, and no biological anchor tying Anastasia to his name. The trap he thought fate had handed him had snapped shut on empty air.

?He didn’t feel the delicate sting of mourning; he felt humiliated. He felt thoroughly outmaneuvered by a biological glitch, bitterly defeated, and white-hot with an all-consuming rage. To make matters infinitely worse, the rest of the building hadn’t received the memo. To the sixty-four floors of Sterling Global, the rumor Garry from Systems had ignited was gospel truth.

?When the private express elevator chimed open on the executive level, Damian stepped out like a warhead on the verge of detonation.

?The temperature in the vast corridor plummeted instantly.

?Damian looked viciously grumpy, his posture rigid as rebar, his mouth twisted into a permanent, bitter scowl. He hadn’t slept, but adrenaline and sheer spite kept him upright. His tailored charcoal coat billowed behind him, radiating an aura of scorched-earth hostility that made the entire open-plan wing grind to a halt. His pride had taken a massive beating in that sterile clinic room, and having to walk into his own company while people whispered about his nonexistent domestic life was pushing his temper to the absolute brink.

?Near the central lounge, a senior vice president of public relations took a bold step forward to intercept him, holding an embossed leather folio with an eager, obsequious grin pasted across his face.

?"Good morning, Mr. Sterling! Wonderful news regarding the logistics portfolio, sir, and if I may say so, our entire department wanted to offer our warmest personal congratu—"

?Damian stopped dead.

?He didn’t blink. He didn’t shift his weight. He slowly turned his head, fixing the man with a glare so profoundly venomous, so sharp with murderous intent, that the words died instantly on the vice president’s tongue.

?The silence that followed was suffocating. Damian’s scowl deepened, his dark eyes boring into the man’s skull with an arctic fury that promised the swift, public decapitation of his entire career if another breath left his mouth.

?The vice president’s confident smile froze, warping into a grotesque, panicked grimace. A sheen of cold sweat broke out across his forehead. He instinctively recoiled, taking two frantic, uncoordinated steps backward until his spine slammed flat against the walnut paneling.

?"I... pardon me, Mr. Sterling. The... the quarterly filings," the man squeaked out, clutching his folder against his chest like a bulletproof vest before turning tail and practically running down the adjacent hall.

?Further along the corridor, two junior analysts standing near the copy alcove were giggling over an internal chat. The second Damian’s heavy, deliberate oxfords clicked past, one of them hastily shoved her tablet behind her back, her knuckles turning white. Both women bowed their heads, barely daring to breathe as the draft of his coat cut through the air, smelling of cold wind, bitter black coffee, and sheer menace.

?Nobody dared smile. Nobody dared offer another knowing nod.

?Henry, walking briskly half a pace behind with a tablet glowing with incoming alerts, kept his voice strictly beneath the hum of the ventilation.

?"Garry from Systems has been formally suspended pending internal inquiry, sir," Henry reported, keeping his eyes glued straight ahead to avoid becoming collateral damage. "Legal has issued a stern directive regarding corporate data privacy. However, three institutional board liaisons have already sent marked-urgent requests to discuss the succession optics before noon."

?Damian reached the double frosted-glass doors of his corner office, halting just outside. His hands were shoved deep into his trouser pockets, his broad back an impenetrable wall of tension, his jaw aching from how hard he was grinding his teeth.

?"Tell the board liaisons that if they dial my extension today, their divisions will be subjected to a full forensic audit before market close," Damian rasped, his voice rough and laced with dark, simmering spite. "And as for Garry..."

?Damian’s lip curled into a cold, vicious sneer.

?"Have security clear his locker and throw his belongings onto the pavement. If I see that idiot’s face anywhere on Sterling property, I won’t just fire him—I will make sure he never touches a keyboard in this city again."

?He shoved the double doors open, letting the heavy glass slam shut behind him with a violent, reverberating crack that shook the partitions all the way down the floor.

The penthouse walls had begun to feel like an iron cage by ten in the morning.

Anastasia couldn’t take another hour of staring at the ceiling, wondering how much more resentment was festering behind his mind. She needed noise, work, and the mundane reality of marketing decks—anything to keep her mind from spiraling into the humiliating aftermath of the phantom pregnancy.

?She dressed in a tailored ivory knit dress and an oversized camel wool coat, but as she reached the private elevator vestibule, the double doors of the guest wing swung open.

?Valerie practically tumbled out, fully dressed in a trench coat, frantically clutching her designer bag and an insulated thermos.

?"Where do you think you’re going?" Valerie gasped, breathless.

?"To the office," Ana replied evenly, pressing the elevator call button. "I have campaigns to review with Clara."

?"Are you insane?!" Valerie’s voice jumped an octave. "Damian looked ready to commit homicide when he left this morning! If he catches you on the thirty-fourth floor after last night—and after Mother explicitly told him you need rest—he will literally lock both of us in a subterranean vault!"

?"Then stay here," Ana said calmly.

?"I can’t!" Valerie groaned, throwing her hands up in dramatic misery. "Mom called me twenty minutes ago with direct orders. She said if you leave this penthouse, I am attached to your hip. I have to monitor your hydration, make sure you don’t faint, and ensure Damian doesn’t corner you. I’m basically your court-appointed parole officer!"

?The bronze doors slid open, and Ana stepped inside with a faint, wry smile. "Then get in, Valerie. Unless you want to explain to Victoria why you lost me before we even cleared the garage."

?Forty minutes later, the private garage elevator of Sterling Tower deposited them directly onto the thirty-fourth floor.

?Ana stepped out, intending to slip quietly toward Clara’s strategy corner, but Valerie was hovering like an anxious hen, holding the thermos out like an offering. "Sip the ginger tea, Ana. Mom said it balances blood sugar. Please, just take a sip so my conscience survives the day."

?Before Ana could take the flask, the pneumatic doors of the executive express lift at the far end of the corridor hissed open with a sharp, heavy snap.

?The air on the entire floor seemed to vanish in an instant.

?Damian walked out.

?He hadn’t been in his office; he had just come from tearing through a mid-level operational review, his charcoal suit jacket unbuttoned, his tie pulled loose, and a tablet clutched in his hand like a weapon. The scowl on his chiseled face was thunderous, an aura of lethal, unbridled hostility radiating from him in waves.

?He took two predatory strides forward—and froze dead in his tracks.

?His obsidian eyes locked directly onto Anastasia’s pale face, tracking down to the camel coat, before cutting with razor-sharp venom to his sister, who was standing beside her holding a silver thermos.

?Valerie’s jaw dropped. The thermos slipped in her fingers, rattling loudly against the hard floor. "Oh, God," she squeaked, physically shrinking behind Ana’s shoulder.

?Damian’s jaw clenched so hard a sharp crack echoed through his teeth. The veins at his temples throbbed with a terrifying intensity.

?He didn’t look at the junior copywriters who immediately scattered like roaches into the breakroom. He didn’t care about the cameras or the glass walls. He closed the distance between them with slow, measured, earth-shaking strides, his towering frame casting a massive, suffocating shadow over both women.

?"What," Damian rasped, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly vibration that promised pure destruction, "did I say about you staying in bed, Anastasia?"

Behind the glass partitions of the marketing bullpen, keyboards ceased clicking. Two senior designers froze mid-stride near the communal printer, and Valerie looked ready to drop flat onto the carpet and play dead just to escape her brother’s towering, incandescent wrath.

?Damian stopped less than a foot from Anastasia. His chest heaved with tight, controlled breaths, the dark shadow of his frame completely blocking out the overhead lights.

?"I gave you a direct directive this morning," Damian said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated with dangerous authority. "You were ordered to stay in bed, clear the residual toxins, and rest. Instead, you drag my idiot sister into a corporate wing that is already crawling with whispers. Turn around. The car is still idling in the private bay."

?He reached out, his large, calloused hand moving to grip her elbow to steer her toward the executive lift.

?Anastasia didn’t flinch. She took a deliberate half-step backward, letting his hand grasp empty air.

?Damian’s fingers curled into an empty fist, his obsidian eyes widening with a flicker of dangerous incredulity. Nobody refused his touch. Nobody stepped back from him in the open halls of Sterling Global.

?Ana tilted her chin up, meeting his lethal glare without a single tremor in her hazel eyes. Her cheeks were pale, but her posture was straight as a steel wire.

?"I am an employee here, Damian," Ana said, her voice clear, calm, and carrying cleanly across the hushed corridor.