“Mr. Dhark, we need to discuss the company’s long-term succession plan.” One of the board members began.

I immediately frowned, not bothering to look up from the document lying on the table in front of me. I didn’t need to, because I knew exactly where this conversation was going.

Another board member cleared his throat. “Public image matters, Mr. Dhark. You’re thirty-six and investors value stability. An heir would reassure them.”

Lifting my gaze slowly, I tried to remain calm and composed. “My marriage and my family will not be discussed by this board.”

The board members exchanged knowing glances.

“With due respect, Mr. Dhark,” another board member added carefully. “It’s been five years since your marriage to Claire Moreau… yet she has not conceived. I believe it is time to evaluate the reason.”

The word ‘evaluate’ hit me like a slap. As if Claire was a failing business asset that needed evaluation or replacement.

“If the issue is from your wife,” He continued. “Of course there are other options.”

The sentence made my heart beat louder than usual. Other options. Eva.

It felt like something restless stirred inside me. She was a memory that simply refused to go away.

I stood abruptly, the legs of my chair scraping sharply against the polished floor, making several board members flinch.

“Meeting’s over.” I declared.

“Mr Dhark—-“

“It’s over.” I repeated. My tone was harsh and unquestionable. There was no room for argument.

I walked out of the conference room before my temper exploded, but their words followed me like an echo.

An heir, stability, public image.

Even the elevator felt suffocating on the way down.

I hated when people cornered me about things I couldn’t fix, things I didn’t know how to approach without destroying the person involved. Claire.

The last thing I wanted was for her to get trapped by the world’s expectations. But that was exactly what was happening.

And somewhere at the back of my mind, a face lingered.

A face I had tried so hard to forget —Eva. Her green eyes, her teasing smile, her easy laughter.

A ghost I had buried who refused to stay dead.

The next morning, I woke up to sunlight spilling across the room.

Claire sat at the edge of the bed, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, staring at nothing.

I realized she had not slept after our argument last night and immediately felt pity for her. She had seen the photos, confronted me and I hadn’t given her even the slightest reassurance.

For a moment, I remembered a different version of her.

I remembered the woman who would bring me tea when I worked late, and I would kiss her forehead in silent appreciation.

I had been gentler then. Before I realized how dangerous my emotions were. So I hardened again.

“Claire.” I called, sitting up slowly.

She wiped her cheeks quickly, pretending she hadn’t been crying, then turned to me with a faint smile.

“Good morning.” Her voice trembled. Her eyes were red and swollen. “We should go to the hospital today, just like you said.”

The board had pushed my hand. After the meeting, I’d instructed my secretary to schedule an appointment with a fertility doctor… and call Claire to inform her.

Perhaps I should have called her myself.

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” I asked, sincerely concerned.

Claire nodded. “I want to know what’s wrong with me.” Her voice was so small, I barely heard her.

Something twisted inside me. I hated it when she spoke like everything was her fault.

There were a lot of things I wanted to tell her—things I should have said last night, instead of shutting down.

I wanted to tell her nothing was wrong with her. That the photos meant less than she feared. That I was sorry for being an ass.

But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.

The hospital smelled like disinfectant and lavender, a scent I knew too well.

A scent that dragged memories I had buried, back to the surface: my mother’s failing body, the machines beeping around her and her fragile hand in mine.

“Yes.” I said as I rose from my seat, ready to finally leave the hospital. “I have a meeting.”

Her lips parted in disbelief. “After what we just heard?”

“Let’s go home Claire.”

The words came out harsher than I intended, but I needed to leave before the hospital walls suffocated me and the memories swallowed me whole.

The doctor looked away politely, but the damage was done.

The ride home was silent. Claire stared out the window, with tears sliding down her face. This time, she didn’t wipe them away.

Once again, I couldn’t bring myself to reach for her and hold her. I couldn’t even find the courage to say her name.

Guilt consumed me as I sat beside her, useless, while she cried. I had hurt her and I would never be able to fix it.

When we got home, she stepped out of the car and into the house without saying a word. Not even a goodbye.

On instinct, I followed her. She walked through the front door and into the bedroom, slamming the door shut.

I stopped at the closed door, frozen. Unsure of whether I should knock or just leave her alone.

I chose the latter.

I didn’t know how to be the man she needed in that moment.

Claire deserved better than a man who couldn’t even hold her hand.

As I turned to leave for the office, my phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen, expecting my assistant.

I felt my heart skipped a beat when I saw the name on the screen.

Eva Sterling.

I hesitated for a moment, then curiosity… weakness won. And I opened the text.

“We need to talk.

It’s about the photos.” — Eva.

My pulse was racing as I stared at the text. I knew Eva too well. And I knew leaked photos were never an accident with her.