Aria POV
"Fine." I wiped at my eyes, angry at the tears that had escaped. "I’m fine."
But I wasn’t.
Seeing Damien had cracked sothing open inside . Sothing I’d sealed shut four years ago.
And Lucas—kind, respectful Lucas—had reminded what it felt like to be treated like a person instead of a possession.
My phone buzzed again.
This ti it was Lucas: Thank you again for tonight. Looking forward to working together. —L
I smiled despite myself, warmth blooming in my chest.
Then another ssage ca through.
Damien again: I know you hate . I know I don’t deserve forgiveness. But if you kept the baby, if I have a child, please. Please just tell .
I stared at the ssage for a long mont, my thumb hovering over the screen.
Then I typed: You have nothing. You threw it all away. Don’t contact again.
I hit send and turned off my phone with a decisive click.
The city lights blurred past the window.Tonight, I let myself feel everything I’d been holding back.
The pain.
The anger.
The terrible, awful truth that seeing Damien again had affected more than I wanted to admit.
"We’re ho, Ms. Monroe," my driver announced softly.
I looked up. My penthouse building rose above us, my sanctuary.
I stepped out of the car and rode the elevator to the top floor, watching the numbers climb.
The mont I opened the door, Noah ca running, his little feet pounding on hardwood.
"Mama!" He crashed into my legs, his little arms wrapping around with pure joy.
I dropped to my knees and pulled him close, breathing in his little-boy sll of soap and innocence, my eyes burning.
"Hi, baby." I kissed the top of his head, my voice thick. "Did you have fun with Miss Sarah?"
"We watched the dinosaur movie again!" His ice-blue eyes sparkled with excitent, so like his father’s. "And I drawed you a picture!"
He ran to get it, his footsteps thundering, leaving kneeling on the floor.
Sarah, the sitter, smiled from the doorway with maternal warmth. "He was perfect, as always."
"Thank you." I stood, composing myself with effort. "Sa ti tomorrow?"
"Of course," she said, gathering her things.
After she left with a quiet click of the door, Noah returned with his drawing clutched in both hands. A family of stick figures—him, , and a taller figure with spiky hair.
"Who’s that?" I asked, pointing to the third figure with a trembling finger.
"That’s my daddy!" Noah said happily, innocent and hopeful. "I gived him your hair color ’cause I don’t know what he looks like."
My heart stopped, the world tilting on its axis.
"Mama?" Noah looked up at , his expression concerned. "Are you crying?"
"Happy tears, baby." I pulled him onto my lap, holding him tight. "These are happy tears."
He snuggled against , accepting this explanation without question, his small body warm and trusting.
I sat there on the floor with Noah in my arms, his drawing crumpled between us, trying to find words that wouldn’t break his heart or mine.
"Can I et my daddy soday?" he asked, his little fingers tracing the stick figure with spiky hair.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "Maybe soday, sweetheart."
"Does he know about ?" He tilted his head, those ice-blue eyes searching my face.
The question hit like a punch to the gut. I thought about Damien’s ssages, his desperate pleas, the raw need in his voice when he’d asked about the baby.
"It’s complicated," I said finally, brushing a dark curl from his forehead.
Noah nodded like he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly, his small brow furrowing. "Jake at school says his daddy lives far away too."
"Co on." I stood, lifting him with , my voice deliberately bright. "It’s way past your bedti."
I carried him to his room, going through our nightly routine on autopilot. Pajamas. Teeth brushing. Story ti. But my mind was elsewhere, spinning through possibilities and consequences.
"Mama?" Noah’s voice was drowsy as I tucked him in, his hand clutching his favorite stuffed dinosaur.
"Yeah, baby?" I smoothed the blanket over his chest.
"I love you the mostest." His eyes were already half-closed.
"I love you the mostest too." I kissed his forehead, lingering there, breathing in his little-boy scent. "More than all the stars."
"More than all the dinosaurs?" A sleepy smile tugged at his lips.
"More than all the dinosaurs in the whole world." I pulled the covers up to his chin, my hand trembling slightly.
He giggled softly, then yawned, his eyes already closing.
I stayed until his breathing evened out, watching him sleep like I had every night since he was born. His face was so peaceful, so innocent. He had no idea his father was one of the most powerful n in the city. No idea that his existence could change everything.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out carefully, not wanting to wake Noah. Another ssage from Damien.
Please, Aria. If there’s even a chance.
I deleted it without reading the rest, my jaw clenched tight.
In my own bedroom, I poured myself a glass of wine and stood by the window, looking out at the city. Sowhere out there, Damien was probably drinking too, wondering, torturing himself with possibilities.
Good, a petty part of thought. Let him suffer like I suffered.
But another part of , the part that had loved him once, ached at the thought of his pain.
My phone rang.
I answered without thinking, bringing it to my ear. "Hello?"
"Don’t hang up." Damien’s voice was rough and desperate, almost breaking. "Please."
I should have ended the call. Should have blocked his number. Instead, I stood frozen, the phone pressed to my ear, my heart hamring against my ribs.
"I know I have no right to ask," he continued, his words tumbling out faster. "I know I destroyed everything. But I can’t stop thinking about that day. The look in your eyes when you told you were pregnant. The way you"
"Stop." My voice ca out sharper than intended, cutting through his rambling. "Just stop."
"Did you keep the baby?" The question was barely a whisper.
I closed my eyes, seeing Noah’s face. Those ice-blue eyes. That smile. My free hand gripped the window fra. "That’s none of your business."
"Aria, please" His voice cracked with raw emotion.
"You made your choice four years ago." My hand trembled around the wine glass, the liquid threatening to slosh over the rim. "You chose your reputation, your family’s expectations, your selfish desires. You don’t get to co back now and"
"I was scared!" His voice broke completely, the Ice King of Corporate Arica shattering. "I was young and terrified and I made the worst mistake of my life. Every single day I’ve regretted it. Every. Single. Day."
"You think I wanted this?" Damien’s voice was raw with pain. "The board demanded a wife with a spotless reputation to seal the Nakamura deal. Vivian was a liability; her affairs were splashed across every tabloid. Your father offered you instead, Aria. The quiet, ’perfect’ daughter." He exhaled loudly. "But Vivian got in my head. Told you planned that night at the lodge, that you were after my money. I was a fool to believe her. I chose you for the contract, but I betrayed you because I let her manipulate ."
I set the wine glass down before I dropped it, my hands shaking uncontrollably. "You think that makes it better? You think telling you have regrets fixes anything?"
"No." He exhaled shakily, the sound crackling through the phone. "No, I don’t. But I need to know. Did you—do I have a child?"
One answer would change everything. Would blow up the careful life I’d built, the protection I’d wrapped around Noah like armor.
"Why now?" I asked instead, turning away from the window, deflecting. "Why, after four years of silence, do you suddenly care?"
"Because I saw you tonight." His voice dropped lower, more intimate, almost tender. "And it all ca rushing back. Everything I felt for you. Everything I threw away because I was too much of a coward to stand up to my family."
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, the city lights blurring through unshed tears. "Your family. Right. The great Blackwood dynasty that couldn’t have their golden boy tied down to so nobody from Brooklyn."
"You were never a nobody to ," he said fiercely, with a surprising tone. "Never."
"But I wasn’t enough either." The old wound opened fresh and bleeding, four years of buried pain rising to the surface. "Not enough for you to choose over them."
Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid.
"If you kept the baby," he said finally, his voice barely audible, almost pleading, "I want to be there. I want to be a father. I know I don’t deserve it, but"
"You’re right." I cut him off, my voice ice-cold, the CEO armor snapping back into place. "You don’t deserve it."
"Aria" He started again, desperate.
"Goodnight, Damien." I ended the call, my finger stabbing the screen with finality.
The phone imdiately rang again, his na flashing on the screen.
I turned it off completely, my chest heaving with suppressed emotion, my hands still shaking.
I walked back to Noah’s room, standing in the doorway, watching my son sleep in the dim glow of his nightlight. He looked so much like Damien it hurt—the sa sharp jawline starting to erge, the sa dark lashes, those devastating eyes.
"What do I do, baby?" I whispered into the darkness, my voice cracking. "What do I do?"
Noah shifted in his sleep, hugging his dinosaur closer, completely unaware of the storm brewing around him.
I pulled out my phone, powering it back on with trembling fingers. One last ssage had co through before the shutdown.
I hired investigators. They found nothing. You vanished like a ghost. But I never stopped looking. I never stopped hoping. If there’s a child—my child—I will spend the rest of my life making this right. I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. But I’m begging you. Please. —D
Reviews
All reviews (0)