The once-bustling hallway fell into an eerie silence. One by one, the employees instinctively stepped aside, forming two neat rows as if some invisible force demanded it.
Elara, struggling to balance the towering stack of folders in her arms, felt a powerful and commanding aura approaching—so overwhelming it seemed to choke the air around her. Curious, she turned her head slightly, hoping to glimpse the source.
Before she could see anything, a wave of dizziness struck her like a hammer. Her vision blurred. The folders slipped from her grasp, scattering across the gleaming marble floor. Her knees buckled—and she fell forward.
Gasps echoed through the crowd.
Everyone stared in frozen horror. Their thoughts raced in unison: Elara Wynn is done for. She just threw herself at the president!
Striding toward the conference room was the man responsible for the suffocating pressure in the air—Damien Rourke, the enigmatic president of the Rourke Corporation.
Out of instinct, Damien took a step back to avoid the tumbling woman. But when he caught a glimpse of her face—a soft, familiar face that tugged at the deepest part of his memory—he moved forward instead.
Without hesitation, he caught Elara in his arms.
The hallway seemed to hold its breath.
The employees stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Their president—cold, distant, and notorious for his disdain toward women—had actually caught someone?
Damien glanced down at the unconscious woman in his arms. His brows furrowed slightly. She was completely out cold.
Before anyone could react, he turned to his assistant and instructed coolly, "She's a company employee. Send her to the hospital."
The assistant hurried forward, carefully taking Elara from his arms. As soon as the girl was carried away, a few panicked employees scrambled to pick up the scattered folders, clearing the way.
Damien gave them a sharp, indifferent glance and continued toward the conference room without a backward look.
The moment he disappeared, hushed whispers exploded like a spark to dry grass.
"Did you see that? The president actually... helped her?"
"I thought he hated when women got close to him! What's so special about Elara Wynn?"
"I'm officially jealous," one woman sighed dreamily, still staring in the direction he had gone.
Meanwhile, at the hospital, Elara was quickly given a thorough examination. After reviewing the results, the doctor turned to the assistant with a bright smile.
"Congratulations," he said warmly. "You're going to be a father."
The assistant blinked rapidly, utterly confused. "Me?"
The doctor chuckled. "Isn't she your wife? She's pregnant."
The assistant's jaw nearly hit the floor. He opened his mouth to deny it—but then a terrifying thought struck him: Wait, could it be… the president?
His mind whirled with gossip-worthy scenarios. No matter what, he had to report this immediately!
Back at the company, Damien sat in a sleek, glass-walled conference room, negotiating a multi-billion-dollar partnership with a prominent Country C conglomerate. If successful, it would give his company leverage over nearly half of Country C's economy.
"Our chairman values family above all else," the representative said with a polite smile. "He believes those who treasure their families are the ones worthy of trust in business. President Rourke must agree?"
"Of course," Damien replied smoothly, hiding the impatience prickling under his skin. "Family is deeply important to me."
At that moment, a message from his assistant flashed across his phone screen:
[President, the woman who fainted is confirmed to be pregnant.]
The blood drained from Damien's face.
He tightened his grip on the phone. No way... That night a month ago—the woman in the hotel—it couldn't be a coincidence.
Suppressing his fury, he forced a calm smile and said to the representative, "Please excuse me for a moment. An urgent message."
The representative nodded graciously.
Damien opened the full message, scanning it again. His chest tightened. His mind flashed back to that night: her soft gasps, her tear-filled eyes...
And now, a life has been created.
The representative of Country C spoke again, oblivious to the storm brewing behind Damien's composed exterior. "Our chairman and his wife will be visiting soon. When they arrive, we hope President Rourke will bring his wife as well."
Damien smiled tightly, reaching out to shake the man's hand.
"Of course," he said, his voice perfectly steady. "I look forward to it."
But deep inside, chaos raged.