CHAPTER 1: THE PRICE OF LOVE

Elara’s POV:

The room was cold. Not from the air conditioning, but from the hot tension seeping from every corner of this room and the gaze of the person sitting in front of me.

I sat uncomfortably on a metal chair, my body was stiff and my fingers fiddled with the hem of my blouse, the one Damon had bought for me on my last birthday. I tried to force myself to stay composed but my heart was beating wildly in my chest like any seconds from now it could leap out, but I kept my chin up. I had to be strong—for him.

Across from me, Vivienne Sterling sat with the same effortless poise I had always admired and feared. Her red lips curved into something that looked like sympathy, but I knew better. She wasn’t a woman who dealt in kindness. She dealt in power. And right now, she was holding mine in the palm of her hand.

“Elara,” she said, her voice smooth, practiced. “You and I both know how this ends if we don’t act quickly.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “Damon didn’t do this.” I said feeling the nausea that had been with me for weeks now roll around my tummy. But I did my best to remain calm.

Vivienne let out a small sigh as if she was dealing with a naive child. “Of course not. But the evidence says otherwise. And if this goes to trial, the prosecutors will tear him apart. The board will remove him as CEO. The media will drag the Sterling name from here to Japan through the mud. Everything he’s built, everything you have worked for will be gone.”

I clenched my fists beneath the table. This was a nightmare. A cruel, twisted nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.

The charges against Damon were serious—corporate espionage, embezzlement, fraud. I had seen the reports, the falsified bank statements linking him to stolen company funds. But it wasn't true. It had to be wrong. Damon wasn't perfect – God knew we'd had our fights – but he wasn't a thief. Someone was framing him, trying to destroy him. And now, his mother was here, the great Vivienne Sterling, asking me to be the solution.

She slid a document across the table, a sleek black pen resting on top.

“If you confess, the trial will never happen,” Vivienne continued, her voice patient, as if she were explaining a business deal rather than asking me to ruin my life. “You’ll serve a short sentence. We’ll make sure of it. And when you’re released, Damon will be waiting. We’ll protect you. You’ll have everything back.”

I barely heard her. My eyes were locked on the paper in front of me, the words blurring together.

Confession of Guilt.

A single signature, and I would become the villain. The one who stole millions from Sterling Enterprises. The trusted employee who siphoned money from the company that feeds her. The one who betrayed the man she loved.

“Elara.” Vivienne’s voice softened, almost gentle. “Damon needs you.”

And that was all it took. That statement was the key to unlock everything. Because Vivienne and I both know that I would do anything for him. Anything to protect the man who had shown me what love could be, who had believed in me when I was nothing but a junior accountant with big dreams and a secondhand suit.

I reached for the pen, my fingers trembling as I pressed it to the paper. With a deep breath, I signed my name.

The moment the ink dried, the door swung open.

Two uniformed officers strode in, their faces devoid of emotion. One of them pulled me to my feet, his grip firm but not rough.

“Elara Quinn, you are under arrest for corporate espionage and embezzlement.”

My breath hitched. Even though I had agreed to this, hearing those words made it real.

I turned to Vivienne, looking for any sign that this nightmare is going to have a happy ending, but she was up on he r feet , smoothing the invisible wrinkles from her tailored silk blouse.

“I’ll take care of everything,” she said, her expression unreadable. “Don’t fight it.”

I nodded, even as cold steel cuffs wrapped around my wrists.

It was fine. It would be fine. I told myself.

This was the price of love. This was what it meant to protect someone more than yourself.

The officers led me out of the interrogation room, my heart trying to match pace with my quickening steps. The hallway seemed endless, lined with reporters who erupted into chaos at my appearance. Questions flew like arrows, camera flashes exploded like lightning in a summer storm. But none of it mattered.

Because at the end of the corridor, standing like a statue, was Damon.

His emerald eyes, the ones I'd woken up to countless mornings, locked onto mine. But there was no relief in them. No gratitude. No trace of the love we'd shared just yesterday.

Only cold, seething rage that turned my blood to ice.

My pulse stuttered. “Damon—” his name escaped my lips like a whispered prayer.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t fight for me.

He just turned his back and walked away as if I had meant nothing. As if I hadn’t just given up my life for him..

The world tilted. My legs nearly buckled, but the officers kept me upright.

No. No, no, no. I screamed in my head. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He was supposed to understand. He was supposed to know I had done this for him.

But he believed I was guilty.

He believed I had betrayed him.

The police pushed me into the back of their truck, the first sob ripped from my throat the moment the door slammed shut at my face. My bison was blurred by tears as I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Then all of a sudden, nausea hit.

A violent wave rolled through me, my stomach twisting painfully. I barely had time to turn before I threw up, my entire body shaking.

The officer in the front seat swore, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “You okay back there?”

I wiped my mouth, a taste of bike bitter on my tongue as my hands were still trembling.

The nausea that had been a constant thing in my life for the past weeks. The morning sickness that I’ve been ignoring. Even the dizziness and the deep-bone exhaustion.

Realization slammed into me like a towing truck.

I wasn’t sick.

I was pregnant.

And I was going to prison. Fuck!