The CEO's Regret: Darling, Don’t Leave Me novel Chapter 54

Chapter 36: A Long Night, Part 1.

Clara

The days after that conversation with Alexander were not dramatic.

They were worse, they were normal. And normalcy, when you’re in the midst of a decision that can change your life, feels like a silent countdown.

Dad has been better. That, by itself, already changes the way I breathe.

We talk every night. At nine o’clock. It’s almost a ritual now. He tells me what he had for breakfast, exaggerates how disciplined he’s being with the diet, complains that the doctors “don’t know anything,”

and then, inevitably, asks about me.

“Are you eating well?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Are you resting?”

“I try.”

“Are you alone?”

Always that question.

And always my pause before answering.

“I’m not alone,” I told her two nights ago.

I didn’t lie. But I didn’t explain either.

He sighed on the other end of the line.

“That makes me calmer.”

His voice sounds louder. More stable. The fainting is behind me, although the fragility it left in me is not

yet.

Sometimes I think that the scare was not only because of his health. It was because it reminded me that time moves forward.

That opportunities too.

The invitation came on a Thursday morning. A thick, elegant envelope with golden relief. Here I realized that my social life began to grow. I’m being noticed.

The Annual Strategic Growth Gala of the corporate innovation and international expansion sector.

The type of event where investors, CEOs, capital funds, the economic press and perfectly ironed egos are

mixed

Our company was invited by the recent expansion agreement. It was not optional to attend.

It was strategic, it was visibility, it was positioning, it was shared territory. Because I knew Ethan would be

there, too.

I didn’t need confirmation His company is one of the leading in the sector.

Alexander was in my office when I opened the envelope.

“That’s big,” he said, reading over my shoulder.

“It is.”

“Are you going to go?”

I looked at him.

“We have to go.”

He held my gaze for a second longer.

“Good.”

Nothing more.

But something in his tone said that he understood what it meant.

The days leading up to the event were a strange mix of efficiency and contained tension.

Alexander began to stay longer in the office. Not out of necessity, but by decision.

We reviewed presentations, short speeches, key figures that could emerge in spontaneous conversations.

But between graphs and projections, our dynamics changed.

One afternoon, as we were adjusting a document in the boardroom, he offered me coffee.

“Black, no sugar,” he said before I could answer.

r

I looked at him.

“How long have you known that?”

He shrugged slightly.

“I pay attention.”

That’s the problem, pay attention. It is non-invasive. It is not intense. It is not possessive.

It’s constant.

Three days ago, when we were leaving the building late, it started raining heavily.

I stayed under the roof of the entrance waiting for it to subside.

“My car is nearby.” he said. “I’ll take you.”

1 didn’t argue.

There was no music on the way. There was no superficial conversation. Just a comfortable calm.

When the car stopped in front of my building, I hesitated for a second before getting out.

*Clara.”

His voice stopped me. I turned.

“I don’t want to pressure you,” he said. “But I want you to know I’m not here out of habit.”

My pulse barely changed.

“I know.”

There was no kiss, there was no attempt, only that look that holds. And that, strangely, weighs more.

The day of the event came with a clear and cold sky. New York in its elegant version.

The gala was held at a historic hotel in Manhattan, one of those with giant crystal chandeliers and thick carpets that cushion every step.

I chose a black dress, with a clean cut, open back and simple lines. Nothing striking.

But forceful.

I pulled my hair back into a low bun. Sober makeup. Thin heels.

When I finished getting ready, I looked at myself in the mirror. And I saw the executive director.

I saw the woman who made difficult decisions. And yet… There was something vulnerable in the gaze.

Alexander picked me up.

Dark suit, perfectly fitted. No exaggeration. Without ostentation. When he saw me, he didn’t say anything

right away.

He just looked at me. And that look was enough,

“You’re…” he began.

“Competitive?” I joked.

He smiled.

“Unstoppable.”

I don’t know why that word ran through my skin.

During the journey to the event, he spoke of possible contacts, strategic opportunities, and interested

funds. Professional. But his hand rested on the center console, near mine.

He didn’t touch it, but it was there… Present

The main hall of the hotel was a display of warm lights, round tables with ivory tablecloths, precisely aligned glasses. The constant murmur of important conversations, measured laughter.

Photographers at strategic points.

I took a deep breath before entering, Alexander gently placed his hand on my lower back, the same

gesture… Natural, firm. Not possessive, but clear.

“Relax,” he murmured.

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