Chapter 5

Carmela's heartbeat quickened while she looked at Damion's muscular back. He stood resolutely before her, protecting her from Elena’s immature outburst. His suit, now stained with wine, clung to his shoulders, the fabric highlighting every taut muscle beneath. Her breath hitched. Why had he stepped in? Why did her heart flutter when he did?

She wasn’t sure if it was gratitude, confusion, or something far more dangerous brewing in her chest.

Damion turned slightly, his piercing gray eyes scanning her from head to toe. His forehead creased, and for an instant, there seemed to be something in his eyes—concern, maybe? “Are you okay?” he inquired, his tone gentler than she anticipated, nearly affectionate.

Carmela parted her lips, yet the phrases didn't emerge. She merely nodded, overwhelmed by the unexpected change in his attitude.

Behind him, Elena, appearing truly taken aback by Damion’s response, moved closer, her hands moving anxiously. “Damion, I had no idea you’d… I never intended for it to pour on you.” she faltered, her tone filled with urgency. She extended her hand, blotting the wine from his suit with a napkin.

“It was a mistake!” she maintained, her hands shaking as she reached for his sleeve.

The increasing whisper within the crowd resembled a wave, swelling more intense with each passing moment. "What's happening?" a person murmured. “Is that Elena Carter?”

Damion’s jaw tightened. His patience, already thin, snapped as he flung Elena’s hands off him with a single, deliberate motion. “Don’t touch me,” he said coldly, his voice sharp enough to silence the whispers around them.

He gestured to one of his men, who promptly appeared beside him. "Show her the way out," he commanded, his voice allowing for no dissent.

“Damion, wait! I didn’t mean it!” Elena’s voice cracked, panic setting in as the security guard gently but firmly took her arm. “This is her fault!” she snapped, pointing at Carmela. “She’s the reason you’re angry! She doesn’t belong here, and you know it!”

Carmela flinched, but Damion didn’t even glance at Elena. His icy glare was enough to send the ex-fiancée stumbling back. As she was escorted toward the exit, she continued her tirade, though it was muffled by the murmuring crowd.

When the room settled, Damion turned back to Carmela, his gray eyes softening just enough to make her question everything. “Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked again, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

Carmela blinked, her heart warring between confusion and hope. Did he actually care? Or is this all part of his act, the perfect husband for the perfect audience?

However, before she could arrange her thoughts and understand what was happening, an unexpected wave of nausea engulfed her. Her stomach knotted in agony, and she clamped her hand over her mouth, her face going pale.

"Uh… excuse me," she faltered, turning around abruptly and rushing to the bathroom.

"Carmela!" Lily's voice yelled as she hurried to catch up with her friend.

Carmela scarcely reached the closest stall before she dropped to her knees, her body convulsing as she expelled the contents of her stomach. Her fingers shook on the icy porcelain, tears welling in her eyes from the effort.

"Are you all right in there?" Lily’s voice rang out, laced with concern, though the sharp tone that followed made it clear she wasn’t going to let Carmela dodge any questions.

The stall door creaked ajar as Carmela emerged, relying heavily on the doorframe. "I'm okay," she replied softly, her voice just above a murmur.

Lily folded her arms, her piercing stare scrutinizing Carmela. "Do you consider that normal? You appear as though you've just encountered a ghost."

“I just… I believe I consumed something rotten,” Carmela mumbled, pushing by Lily to cleanse her face at the sink.

Lily lifted an eyebrow in skepticism. "Mm-hmm. When did you last have your period?"

Carmela stood motionless, the water continuing to flow over her hands. She jolted upright, her ghostly image looking back at her in the mirror. "What do you mean?"

Lily grinned with understanding. “Come on, Carmela. You feel queasy, look white, and are perspiring. When did you last see your period?"

Carmela turned to her friend, her expression a mix of shock and indignation. “Lily!” she exclaimed, her voice sharp but quiet as she rushed forward, covering Lily’s mouth with her hand.

Lily pulled away, rolling her eyes. “Relax, no one’s here but us. But seriously, if it’s not Damion, then you need to figure out who the father is, fast. You can’t afford for this to blow up while you’re playing happy wife to Mr. Billionaire.”

Carmela felt a constriction in her throat. “Who said that I’m expecting?” she murmured, her voice shaking. She glanced back at the mirror, gazing at her colorless visage. Her reflection merely intensified the feeling in her stomach.

However, within, the fear began to grow. Is it possible that it's true? That she could possibly pregnant?

Unbeknownst to them, the bathroom door was left slightly open, and a towering figure stood just outside. One of Damion's older bodyguards, positioned unobtrusively by the restroom, had caught every word. His expression was one of professionalism, yet the surprise of what he had just discovered shimmered in his eyes.

Without any hesitation, he pivoted and walked quickly back to the group.

Damion was positioned at the center of the room, conversing with a group of investors.

The bodyguard approached, weaving through the crowd until he reached Damion’s side. Leaning in, he whispered something into Damion’s ear.

Whatever the words were, they had an immediate effect. Damion’s smirk vanished, replaced by a flicker of shock that he quickly masked. His gray eyes darted toward the restroom, narrowing as his mind raced.