The CEO's Regret: You made me your lie, I become your Loss-Chapter 105: Her Demands

Silas stepped around Julian and disappeared into the elevator, the silver doors closing with a final, metallic thud.

Amara stood in the middle of the hallway, her breath coming in shallow hitches. The gold anklet felt like a shackle.

The honeymoon dream was officially dead, replaced by the ghost of Seb and the terrifying possibility that her father had made a deal with the very family that had tried to ruin her once before.

Julian turned back to her. And everything in his expression changed. The sharpness, the calculation, the quiet readiness for war... it all fell away the moment he saw her.

Amara was trembling. Not visibly enough for anyone else to notice. Not loudly. Not dramatically.

But he saw it.

The slight shake in her fingers. The way her breath refused to settle. The fragile way she held herself together, like one wrong word, one wrong moment would shatter everything she had left.

He closed the distance between them in two strides. No hesitation. No restraint.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her into him, firm, unyielding, possessive. Not just to comfort her. To shield her.

To remind the world. She was not alone.

"He’s trying to rattle you, Amara," he murmured into her hair, his voice low, steady, grounding. "The Creeds are scavengers. They smell blood... and they come circling."

His hold tightened, just slightly. "But they forgot one thing."

Amara’s fingers curled weakly into his shirt, her voice barely there, fragile against his chest. "What?"

Julian exhaled slowly, his jaw setting as something colder slipped back into his tone. "They forgot... that you’re a Vale now." A pause. A promise forming in the silence.

"And I don’t lose what’s mine." For a moment, neither of them moved.

The world outside the tension, the waiting storm, the man standing in the driveway faded into nothing.

There was only this. His arms are around her. Her breathing is slowly finding rhythm again. Then, gently, he pulled back just enough to look at her. "Come on," he said, softer now, but no less firm. "We should head home. You need to rest."

Rest. Such a simple word. Such an impossible thing.

Still, he didn’t give her time to argue. His hand found hers, steady and guiding, leading her away from the door, away from the weight of watching eyes and unspoken threats. To the car.

To somewhere that was supposed to feel safe.

—

But the moment they stepped back into the Pedro estate. It was gone. That fragile sense of safety. It didn’t exist here anymore. The air had changed. What had once been a house of mourning... had sharpened into something else. Something tense.

Something waiting. A battlefield. Amara felt it instantly. It pressed against her chest, heavier than before, heavier than grief because grief at least was honest.

This? This was something else entirely. Her legs still felt like lead as she crossed the threshold, the confrontation with Silas clinging to her like a shadow she couldn’t shake. All she wanted now was quiet.

Her room. A door. A moment where no one needed anything from her. But she didn’t make it far.

"Amara, finally!" The voice snapped through the foyer, sharp, impatient. Amira.

She stood there, pacing, her movements restless, almost frantic, but not from grief.

No. This was an urgency. Controlled chaos. The kind that came with plans already in motion.

She turned quickly, stepping forward and blocking Amara’s path before she could even think of escaping.

"I need the transfer for the Foundation’s new wing to be authorized. Now." Now. Not later. Not when you’re ready. Now.

"It’s a significant sum," Amira continued, her tone tight, insistent. "The contractors are waiting." Waiting. Everyone was waiting. For her. For decisions. For signatures.

For her to stop being a daughter who just buried her mother... and become something else entirely. Amara stared at her. For a second. Just a second. She didn’t speak. Didn’t move.

Something flickered behind her eyes. Exhaustion. Disbelief. A quiet, rising crack beneath the surface. Because somehow. Even here... Even now...She still wasn’t allowed to fall apart.

Amara didn’t answer immediately.

She leaned back against the mahogany banister, the polished wood cool against her spine, as though she needed something, anything solid to keep her standing.

Her eyes slipped shut. Just for a second. Just long enough to gather the scattered pieces of herself. "Let me see..." she murmured.

Her voice was quiet. Not weak but tired in a way that went deeper than her body.

Amira didn’t hesitate. The file was already in her hands, pressed forward with urgency that felt almost impatient.

Amara took it. The weight of it surprised her. Not because of the paper. But because of what it meant.

She flipped it open slowly, her fingers brushing over numbers, projections, signatures waiting to exist. Lines and figures blurred for a moment before she forced her focus to sharpen.

Then...She stilled. Her breath caught, almost imperceptibly.

"Amira..." she said softly, lifting her gaze. "This sum is huge." It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t even resistance. Just... truth.

Amira’s chin lifted slightly, her expression tightening, not defensive, but resolute. "Yes, well," she replied, too quickly, "it’s a big project for the Foundation. Leo and I want to go all out."

Leo. Again. The name lingered between them like something that didn’t quite belong but had already rooted itself deep.

Amara looked back down at the file. For a moment, the numbers shifted again... and all she could hear was Julian’s voice in her head. The Creeds are scavengers. They smell blood... And now Silas was back.

Watching. Waiting. And somewhere beyond all of that. An audit. Already moving. Already digging.

"I’m sorry, Amira..." Amara said at last. The words came gently.

Carefully. But they did not bend. "I can’t sign this. Not now."

A pause. She closed the file, holding it between them, not giving it back yet, but not accepting it either.

"Let the audit review the project... and the sum. With Silas here, and everything already under scrutiny... we need to be careful about the projects we get involved in."

Her voice softened further at the end, not authority or command but concern.

"It’s for your own good." For a second. There was silence.

Then..."What is that supposed to mean?"

Amira’s voice sharpened instantly, the shift so abrupt it cut through the air. Her eyes darkened, something volatile flickering to life beneath the surface. "You won’t give me the money?"

Amara exhaled slowly, steadying herself. "I mean, we need a careful review of the budget," she repeated, quieter now. "That’s all." But it wasn’t all. And they both knew it. Amira’s face twisted.

Not just with anger. But with something deeper. Something unstable. Something that had always been there... just beneath control. "Wait?" she echoed, her voice rising, cracking at the edges. "Wait?"