Camila’s POV 

“Get out, Damian,” I laughed, but it wasn’t the kind of laugh that carried joy. It was sharp, brittle, meant to push him away. “You don’t need to say another word.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t move. He only pulled a small, cream-colored card from the inner pocket of his tailored suit and placed it gently on my counter.

“Reconsider it, Camila,” he said, his voice low, steady, too controlled for a man who had just barged back into my life. “I want to marry you. Not for love, not for games, but because it will help us both. You need help. And I can help you renovate your life. I can give you stability, security. Everything you’ve lost.”

My blood boiled at his words. My hand moved before I even thought, slapping across his cheek with a sting that echoed in the silence.

“How dare you?” I hissed. “You break me once, disappear for years, and now you stand here, pretending like I need saving?!”

His teeth clenched, his body stiffening, but he didn’t retaliate. “Think about it,” he muttered instead. His gaze burned into me before he finally turned, storming toward the door. The sound of it shutting behind him cut like glass.

Through the window, I saw his driver step out quickly, opening the door for him. Damian slid inside without another glance back. In a blink, the car disappeared down the street, leaving the air heavy and my chest tight.

The strength I’d forced into my body crumbled. My knees gave out, and I fell hard to the floor, my palms flat against the cold tiles. My chest heaved as sobs tore from me, raw and uncontrollable.

“Camila!” Rosa’s voice broke through, sharp with panic. She rushed from the back, kneeling beside me, her hands gripping my shoulders. “It’s him, isn’t it? Damian?”

I could barely breathe, but I nodded, choking on the tears. Rosa pulled me close, rocking me the way she had when we were kids and the world felt too cruel.

“I don’t know why he’s back,” I whispered through broken gasps. “After everything he did to me, why now?”

Rosa’s hand rubbed circles on my back. “Because men like Damian Wolfe never leave without reason. He’s not here just to play with you. He wants something, Camila.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, remembering the sting of his words, You need help… I can help you renovate your life. How dare he say that? And yet… the part that burned worse was how true it was.

The bakery was on its last legs. Rent overdue. The ovens needed repair. My savings were drained. Rosa knew it. I knew it. And now Damian knew it too.

But no. I shook my head fiercely. “I won’t give him what he wants. Not this time.”

Rosa’s eyes softened, but her lips tightened. “Then what will you do about the rent?”

My hands trembled as I pulled the card from the counter, Damian’s neat handwriting staring back at me like a brand I couldn’t erase.

“I’ll give him half the money back tomorrow,” I said firmly, even though my voice shook. “I’ll go to his company myself. Whatever he thinks he can buy, he’s wrong. He won’t own me again.”

Rosa studied me carefully, worry written across her face, but she didn’t argue.

That night, sleep never came. Every time I closed my eyes, memories of Damian flooded me. The way his lips once pressed against my temple. The way his hand had gripped mine when he whispered he’d never let go and then, the way he left.

*********************

The next day at Wolfe Enterprises. The lobby was intimidating, glass walls, steel, sharp lines of wealth that screamed Damian Wolfe. My heels clicked across the marble as I approached the receptionist.

“Camila Reyes. I have an appointment with Mr. Wolfe,” I said, lifting my chin.

Her smile was polite but her eyes flickered, recognition dawning. “Of course. He’s been expecting you.”

Of course he has.

The elevator ride stretched endlessly. By the time the doors slid open on the top floor, my chest was pounding. His office was vast, overlooking the city, as cold and commanding as the man himself.

Damian stood by the window, his back to me, hands in his pockets. “I knew you’d come,” he said without turning.

I gritted my teeth. “Don’t flatter yourself. I came to return your money.”

Finally, he faced me. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, landed on mine. “Half the money, you mean. I already spoke to your landlord, Camila. Do you really think half would’ve been enough to keep the bakery standing?”

My stomach sank. “You had no right…”

“I had every right,” he cut in, stepping closer, his presence suffocating. “Because I wasn’t going to watch you drown. Not again.”

I froze. “Again?”

His jaw tightened, as if he’d said too much. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, guilt? Pain? But it was gone in an instant.

“I won’t let you fail,” he said, voice lower now. “That’s why I’m offering you a contract marriage. It solves your problems, and it solves mine.”

I shook my head violently. “Marriage isn’t a business deal.”

“With us, it always was.”

The words hit like a slap. My lips parted, but no sound came.

Damian pressed a folder into my hands. “Take it. Read it. You’ll find it’s more than fair.”

“I don’t want your charity,” I snapped, thrusting it back at him.

His gaze hardened. “This isn’t charity. This is survival. You need this marriage to keep your bakery alive. And I…” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I need you. More than you realize.”

My breath hitched. “What do you mean by that?”

For the first time, Damian hesitated. His mask cracked, just enough for me to see something hidden, something tied to the reason he left all those years ago.

But instead of answering, he only said, “Think carefully, Camila. Sign it tomorrow or watch everything you’ve built crumble.”