Chapter 61
Chapter 61
KAYNA’s POV
The Morning After Saying Yes
I barely slept.
Not because I regret agreeing to Damian’s proposal, but because my mind keeps replaying the look in his eyes when I finally said the words:
“Yes. I’ll marry you.”
There had been relief there—raw, exhausted, almost vulnerable. Something I never imagined the infamous Damian Marshall could ever show anyone, least of all me.
But now, alone in my apartment, I feel the weight of everything pressing down on my chest. Marriage. A contract. A deadline. A clock ticking against his inheritance, against his family, against whatever enemies were eating at Cosmo’s accounts piece by piece.
And then there was my own condition.
Separate houses.
It made sense when I said it last night. I needed distance, clarity. I needed to think. But now, the more I replay the words, the more foolish they sound. Nothing about any of this was going to be simple.
Still, I push the thoughts aside.
I shower, dress, and force myself through a quick breakfast before heading to the office.
Walking through Marshall Corp’s glass doors feels surreal. Nothing looks different, but everything is different.
Or maybe… I’m the one who has changed.
The office felt wrong.
The reception area is louder than usual. People cluster in groups—whispering, tapping on their phones, reading notifications like breaking news reporters.
I swipe my badge at the employee entrance and immediately feel eyes shift toward me.
A tightness presses into my ribs.
They know.
No, they can’t know. Damian said it wasn’t public yet.
I walk toward my desk, ignoring the whispers.
But it’s impossible to ignore the way conversations soften when I walk by. Or the way two analysts from finance exchange a look that’s unmistakably Oh my God, that’s her.
I set my bag down and take a steady breath.
Is this what my life will look like? Eyes. Whispers. Assumptions. Speculation. I already felt exposed just working beside Damian… how would it be as his wife?
Even a fake one.
I open my laptop. Notifications blast across my screen—company updates, meeting reminders, the PR team’s crisis reports from the leak.
But what catches my attention is the memo pinned to the top:
MANDATORY TOWN HALL — 2PM: ADDRESSING RECENT MEDIA RUMORS
My heart sinks.
Before I can read further, someone clears their throat.
Not Damian.
Not Alex.
But Julian. This visit was unexpected but I had a feeling it had something to do with all that was going on at the moment.
He leans against the edge of my cubicle, arms crossed, face unreadably composed. He almost always has a joking glint in his eyes, something mischievous or teasing lurking beneath the surface.
But not today.
Today he looks like a man balancing a detonator.
“Morning, Kay.” His voice is warm, but controlled. “Mind if we talk for a moment?”
I swallow. “Sure.”
“Not here.” He glances around at the people pretending not to stare. “My office.”
I follow him through the hall, my pulse jumping higher with every step. When he closes the door behind us, the quiet becomes suffocating.
Then he turns, hands in pockets—gentle, almost apologetic.
“I heard,” he says softly. “About last night.”
My stomach flips. “Damian told you?”
“He’s my best friend. You know how this works.” His tone is gentle but firm. “He told me you agreed.”
I nod once.
“And… you have terms.”
I tense. “Julian—”
“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, lifting a calming hand. “I’m not here to argue with you. I’m here because something… tricky came up.”
He hesitates—an unusual sight.
Julian hesitating is like gravity hesitating.
“Your living arrangement,” he finally says.
I breathe out slowly.
“You want to live separately,” he continues. “And I understand why. Truly. But…” His jaw shifts uneasily. “It’s not possible.”
My chest tightens. “Why not?”
“Because the media is already tearing itself apart trying to find Damian’s bride.” His voice becomes more serious than I’ve ever heard it. “If you two aren’t seen together—consistently—the world will smell blood. And when the world smells blood in this family, they attack.”
He pauses.
“It’s not about romance, Kayna. Or control. Or ownership. It’s about survival.”
My breath trembles. “Julian, I’m not ready to live with him. Not like that.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “And he knows too. But you won’t be living as husband and wife. You’ll be living as… a strategic alliance.”
“A façade,” I whisper bitterly.
“A shield.” Julian steps closer. “And I swear to you, I’ll be there every step of the way to make sure you aren’t lost in this.”
My eyes sting unexpectedly.
He softens even more.
“Give me a chance to help you. Give him a chance too.”
I look down at my hands, suddenly unsure of everything.
“Julian…” My voice breaks. “I just don’t want to lose myself.”
“You won’t.” His tone is absolute. “If anything, you’re the one keeping the company—and Damian—together.”
He lets that settle.
Then he sighs lightly, tension easing.
“You can confide in someone you can trust” he says gently. “You’re not meant to shoulder this alone.”
I blink.
He smiles faintly. “You can call your mom, She’s your anchor, right?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Then start there.”
I nod weakly, and he pats my shoulder before escorting me out.
Back at my desk, I decide to reach out to Elena, she was someone that already had an idea of what was going on.
I barely sit down before I open my phone.
ELENA ROBERTS
CALL
The line rings twice.
Then—
“What did you do now?” she demands immediately, voice sharp with suspicion.
A tearful laugh escapes me. “You always assume the worst.”
“With you? It’s usually accurate.”
“Elena…”
My voice cracks.
She softens instantly. “Okay, what happened? Tell me.”
“I… I said yes.”
“To the job promotion? The apartment upgrade? The—”
“To the marriage.”
Dead silence.
Then—
“YOU DID WHAT?!”
I wince and hold the phone away from my ear.
“You said you weren’t sure! You said it was complicated! You said—Kayna, oh my God, are you pregnant?!”
“What? No!” I clutch my forehead. “This is not about pregnancy!”
“Then why,” she demands, “would you marry a man whose emotional maturity is equivalent to a platinum credit card?”
“Elena…”
“Whose idea of affection is buying your silence?”
“Elena—”
“Who looks at you like you’re dessert but refuses to eat carbs—”
“Elena!”
She stops.
I swallow hard.
“We had no choice.”
I tell her everything—his father’s clause, the inheritance, the deadline, the pressure, the leak, his mother pushing Ixora again, the deal-breakers, the risks.
By the time I finish, she’s silent.
Completely silent.
“El?” I whisper.
Finally she exhales sharply. “Okay… okay. That… is a lot. Jesus.”
“I know.”
“And you agreed to this because you feel guilty,” she says quietly. “And because you… like him.”
I tense.
She catches it instantly.
“Oh my God,” she breathes. “Kayna, you’re falling for him.”
“No. No, I—”
“You kissed him.”
“Elena—”
“And you liked it.”
I cover my eyes with my hand.
She sighs deeply. “Sweetheart… marriage? With feelings this messy? You’re jumping into a storm without an umbrella.”
“I know.”
“So why walk into it?”
“Because he needs me,” I whisper.
“And what about you?” she shoots back. “Who protects you in all this?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
She softens. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Keep your heart safe,” she murmurs. “Keep your boundaries. And don’t let his family crush you.”
My throat tightens. “Okay.”
“And call me every time you feel overwhelmed.”
“I will.”
She pauses.
“And Kayna?” Her voice drops an octave, protective and warm. “I’m with you through all of it. Even if you decide to marry the ice king of New York.”
A laugh breaks out of me—a small, grateful one.
“Thank you.”
“Always.”
We end the call, but I keep the phone in my hand, drawing strength from her words.
I needed to call my mom too. The announcement would happen sooner than any expects and I wouldn’t want her to find out from the news. It wouldn’t be good for her condition.
This call is harder.
The phone shakes slightly in my hand as it rings.
“Kayna?” my mother answers, voice fragile but warm. “Sweetheart, is everything okay?”
“Yes… yes. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to tell you something.”
“What is it, baby?”
I inhale deeply.
“Mama… I’m getting engaged.”
Silence.
Then her breath catches softly. “Oh, sweetheart… really?”
“Yes.”
“Are you happy?”
My throat closes.
“Yes,” I force out. “I think… I think I will be.”
She sniffles joyfully. “Oh, my beautiful girl. After so much pain… you deserve happiness. You deserve love. Who is this lucky guy?”
I bite down hard on my lip.
If she only knew.
“ You’ll meet him in due time mom. He’s someone I met here in New York”
“Alright I can’t wait to meet him. My only wish,” she whispers, “is to be well enough to watch you walk down the aisle.”
“You will be.” I smile through the ache in my chest. “I promise. We’ll get you the best doctors. The best care.”
“Kayna… that’s expensive.”
“Let me worry about that.”
She sighs gently. “You’ve always carried so much. I hope this man takes care of you.”
I blink back sudden tears. “I hope so too.”
We end the call, and I sit motionless for a minute.
The truth presses down like a weight:
My mom believes this marriage is for love.
Elena knows it’s for strategy.
I’m somewhere in the middle.
And Damian…
I don’t even know where he stands. Not really.
By afternoon, the media storm had Intensified. The news alerts were buzzing again.
This time it’s worse.
“Sources claim Ixora Hale is frontrunner for Damian Marshall’s surprise engagement.”
“Marshall Corp turmoil: CEO pressured into marriage for inheritance.”
“Mystery bride clues point toward longtime socialite IXORA.”
“Has the heir already chosen?”
My stomach twists.
If only they knew the truth.
I’m the one he chose.
No—
I’m the one he needs.
There’s a difference.
A big one.
But seeing Ixora’s name plastered everywhere sends a quiet ripple of insecurity through me.
Is this what the world expects?
Would people rather see him with her?
Would Society accept me as his wife—or eat me alive?
In no time, it was already evening. I was alone at my desk.
I work late.
Most people have left. The building hums with a soft, eerie quiet—the kind that makes fluorescent lights buzz louder and computer screens glow colder.
I pull up spreadsheets, pretending to focus.
But all I feel is—
Fear.
Responsibility.
And something else I don’t want to name.
Someone knocks lightly on my cubicle.
My heart stops.
It’s Alex.
He leans casually against the divider, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“Late night?” he asks.
“I’m catching up on reports.”
He studies me too closely. “You look tense.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s a lie.”
I stiffen.
He smiles softly. “Relax. I’m not here to pry.”
His voice lowers.
“But things are about to get… a lot more complicated for you.”
I freeze.
“What does that mean?”
He doesn’t answer.
Instead, he slips his hands into his pockets and gives me a slow, enigmatic look.
“Tell Damian I’ll see him in the morning,” he says. “He knows why.”
And then he walks away.
Leaving me alone
…with a brand-new fear simmering in my chest.