Chapter 206: The Devil’s Dilemma

SFMDEH (October MGS)

Chapter 206Thirty floors above, the air inside the primary boardroom was suffocating.

?The trade directors were droning on about overseas shipping clearances, clicking through supply-chain projections that normally took Damian less than ten seconds to rip apart.

?Today, the stylus on his desk lay untouched.

?Damian sat back in his leather chair, a dark, suffocating pressure radiating from him. On the surface, he was the untouchable iron prince... cold, lethal, daring anyone to make a misstep.

?Yet his mind refused to lock onto a single metric.

?Every time a director opened his mouth, all Damian heard was the sharp, defiant bite of Anastasia’s voice.

?"You are the one stressing me out... your suffocating control... that is what is making me sick."

?Right behind that came his mother’s cold ultimatum from the kitchen.

?"You sit in that chair with her on Thursday, Damian... or you let her go."

?And beneath it all lay the bitter, hollow sting of the Westchester clinic.

?Negative.

?There was no baby. The trap he thought fate had handed him had snapped shut on empty air, leaving him to walk through his own building while everyone whispered behind his back.

?Damian shoved his chair back with a harsh scrape.

?The presenter froze mid-word.

?"Enough," Damian rasped, not even looking up. "The margins are unacceptable. Rework the logistics annex and submit it by tomorrow morning. Meeting adjourned."

?He didn’t wait for them to stand. He turned on his heel and strode out, leaving the senior executives paralyzed in silence.

?Five minutes later, Damian stood by the panoramic glass wall of his corner office.

?His suit jacket was tossed over the couch, his cuffs rolled up over his forearms, hands buried deep inside his trouser pockets. Gray Manhattan clouds hung low over the skyline, mirroring the foul storm twisting in his chest.

?A soft knock broke the quiet.

?Henry slipped inside, carrying a silver tray with a cup of steaming Earl Grey tea. He set it down on the corner of the mahogany desk without a sound.

?"The trade briefs have been compiled, sir," Henry reported evenly. "And the thirty-fourth floor has been cleared of unnecessary traffic for the afternoon."

?Damian didn’t turn around. His jaw worked in a slow, tight grind.

?The silence dragged out, thick and heavy.

?Then, Damian’s gravelly voice cut through the room.

?"Henry."

?"Yes, Mr. Sterling?"

?Damian hesitated, his throat tightening before the question scraped past his lips.

?"Does it actually do anything?"

?Henry remained perfectly still. "Sir?"

?Damian kept his eyes fixed on the gray clouds, desperately trying to sound detached, as if asking about an obscure foreign acquisition.

?"Therapy," Damian murmured, the word tasting sour on his tongue. "Talking to a doctor. Picking through the past. Does it actually... help?"

?Henry didn’t blink. A lesser assistant might have looked shocked, but Henry had served the family too long. He knew about the session scheduled for Thursday. He knew about the war between Damian and the woman working thirty floors below.

?Yet Henry kept his face completely blank. No teasing, no mentioning Anastasia’s name.

?"In the proper setting... Yes, sir. It is remarkably effective."

?Damian let out a sharp, cynical scoff. "Why? Why pay a stranger to listen to problems that can be handled with discipline and control? It sounds like weakness."

?Henry lowered his chin slightly, choosing every syllable with extreme care.

?"Because, Mr. Sterling... even the most disciplined mind cannot operate when its thoughts are scattered across too many battles at once. When everything is kept locked inside, the pressure builds until judgment becomes clouded."

?Damian’s knuckles tightened in his pockets. He didn’t speak.

?Henry kept his voice gentle, but steady.

?"A proper session provides a structured space to gather thoughts that have become scattered... rather than letting them tear through everything around you. And more importantly... it helps a person step out of the fears that have been tormenting them for years."

?The room went dead silent.

?Fears that have been tormenting them for years.

?The memory of his father’s cold shadow, the clinic room where they had lost their baby, and the desperate, suffocating need to control every single breath Ana took... it all flared hot and sharp behind his ribs.

?Damian didn’t snap. He didn’t fire Henry.

?Slowly, his venomous scowl softened into a weary, bitter hollow that looked terrifyingly close to exhaustion.

?"You’re dismissed, Henry."

?"Your tea is getting cold, sir," Henry murmured, bowing slightly before backing out and clicking the door shut.

?Damian stood alone against the glass, the hot steam of the tea fading into the quiet air.

*********************

By two in the afternoon, the air on the thirty-fourth floor had grown unbearable.

?Clara was hurriedly packing a leather messenger bag at her desk, double-checking delivery manifests for the upcoming launch. "The print batches for the midtown pop-up are stalled at the third-party logistics annex two blocks down. The courier service is giving us conflicting tracking codes, so I need to walk over and get eyes on the manifests myself."

?Ana immediately pushed her swivel chair back, reaching for her wool coat. "I’m coming with you."

?Clara stopped, her brows drawing together in immediate hesitation. Ana’s cheeks were still pale, and despite the boost from the juice Marcus had handed her, the fragile line of her throat showed just how recently she’d been discharged from a clinic.

?Yet, seeing the desperate need in Ana’s eyes to just get away from the staring cubicles, Clara swallowed her refusal. Pushing her to sit still right now would only trigger more panic.

?"Fine," Clara sighed, slinging her strap over her shoulder. "Ten minutes of fresh air, nothing more. And you let me do the arguing with the warehouse reps."

?Ana offered a faint, grateful smile. "Deal."

?The autumn wind outside was brisk and biting. Heavy, leaden clouds hung low over the Manhattan grid, threatening a downpour before three.

?They had barely made it half a block down the bustling cross street when Clara’s phone buzzed violently in her palm. She glanced at the screen, and the color instantly washed from her face.

?"Damn it," Clara cursed, pressing the device to her ear. "Yes? ...Right now? The whole creative leadership?"

?Ana slowed her pace, watching Clara’s expression tighten into sheer corporate panic.

?Clara hung up, raking a frantic hand through her styled hair. "The executive committee just called an all-hands strategy review on the sixty-fourth floor. In eight minutes. If I miss roll call under Damian’s watch today, my head is going to be on a spike in the lobby."

?She looked down the block toward the logistics warehouse, completely torn. "The logistics sign-off is due before the three o’clock regional freight cutoff. If nobody verifies those serial numbers, our launch materials don’t ship."

?"I’ll go," Ana said without missing a beat.

?Clara shook her head instantly, glancing up at the darkening gray sky. "No. Look at those clouds, Ana. It’s about to pour, and you’re barely forty-eight hours out of an emergency room."

?"Clara, it’s one block away," Ana insisted, keeping her voice calm and steady. She took a step closer, resting a reassuring hand on Clara’s arm. "I know the batch codes by heart. I’ll get the signed manifest, print the verified receipt, and bring the files right to your desk. You go upstairs before Damian finds another reason to burn down your department."

?Clara still looked deeply uneasy, chewing on her lower lip. "Your body is still sensitive, Ana. What if your dizziness hits you again?"

?A dry, self-deprecating smile curved Ana’s lips. She subtly tilted her chin toward the opposite corner of the street.

?Parked discreetly near the fire hydrant was an unmarked black Yukon. Lingering twenty feet behind them on the sidewalk, hands tucked into their dark jackets with earpieces clearly visible, were two of Damian’s private security men.

?"Look around," Ana murmured dryly. "Damian has eyes on me everywhere I go. Those two haven’t taken their gaze off the back of my coat since we cleared the revolving doors. I couldn’t trip on a curb without an incident report reaching his desk in thirty seconds. Don’t worry about me."

?Clara glanced at the security shadows, the tension in her shoulders finally giving way to a grudging sigh of relief.

?"Ten minutes, Anastasia," Clara warned, pointing a sharp, maternal finger at her face. "You get the manifest, you sign the ledger, and you walk straight back to the tower. Do not wander. And if you feel even a fraction of nausea or sense something off, you call me or Damian immediately. Am I clear?"

?Ana couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the lecture, nodding with a soft scoff. "Yes, boss. Crystal clear."

?"Go on," Clara urged, though her brow remained furrowed.

?Ana turned on her heel and started down the sidewalk toward the warehouse entrance, her coat tightly buttoned against the chilly breeze.

?Clara stood on the pavement for a long moment, watching Ana’s slender figure blend into the bustling street crowd beneath the ominous gray clouds. A strange, uneasy chill prickled along the back of her neck.

?"Please," Clara muttered under her breath, turning back toward the towering glass silhouette of Sterling Global, "just let today end without another disaster."