Damien POV
The whiskey burned going down, but not enough to numb the ache in my chest.
I stared at my phone screen, at the ssage I’d sent hours ago. Still no response. Just those three devastating words she’d typed earlier: You have nothing.
My hand tightened around the glass until my knuckles went white.
"Mr. Blackwood?" My assistant’s voice crackled through the intercom, pulling from my spiral. "Your 9 AM with the Tokyo investors is in fifteen minutes."
I glanced at my watch. 8:47 AM. I’d been sitting here all night, drinking and staring at my phone like a pathetic fool.
"Cancel it," I said, my voice rough from lack of sleep and too much whiskey.
"Sir, they flew in specifically"
"I said cancel it." I ended the call with a jab of my finger.
The city sprawled below my penthouse office, morning light glinting off the glass towers. Sowhere down there, Aria was starting her day. Maybe having coffee Maybe with that bastard Lucas Hayes.
My jaw clenched at the thought of his hand on her waist, the way she’d smiled at him.
I pulled up my laptop my fingers moving across the keys. I needed to know everything about Aria’s rise. Everything about Monroe Global.
The preliminary reports from my investigators sat in my inbox, mocking with their subject line: Aria Monroe - Initial Findings.
I clicked it open.
What I found should have impressed .
It terrified instead.
Aria hadn’t just survived after I threw her out. She’d built an empire from absolutely nothing.
The tiline made my stomach turn.
Three years and eight months ago: Last confird sighting in New York pawning her grandmother’s necklace.
Three years and seven months ago: Found working as a waitress at a small café in London. Pregnant.
My hand froze on the mouse. Pregnant.
Three years and two months ago: Gave birth at Royal London Hospital. Took three weeks maternity leave, then returned to waitressing.
I did the math quickly, my heart hamring. Nine months before that birth... that would have been right around when she left .
The baby could be mine.
No. The baby was mine. I knew it in my bones, felt it in the way my chest constricted with every breath.
I kept reading, my hands shaking now.
Two years and ten months ago: Enrolled in night classes at London Business School while working double shifts. A friend—Dr. Olivia Grant—helped with childcare.
Child. They ntioned the child but gave no details. No na, no gender, no photographs.
Two years and six months ago: Hired as junior analyst at Sterling Investnts despite having an infant at ho. Made them three million dollars on her first rger prediction within two months.
I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. Three million. On her first try.
I’d known Aria was smart during our relationship. I’d seen her reading in the library—complex business theory, economic journals, market analysis. But I’d been too blind, too wrapped up in my own arrogance to pay attention.
Too convinced she was just another woman trying to trap for my money, thanks to Vivian’s poison in my ear.
One year and eleven months ago: Promoted to senior analyst. Turned down three higher-paying offers to stay at Sterling.
One year and four months ago: Left Sterling to found Monroe Global with two million in venture capital she’d secured herself. Investors included three Fortune 500 CEOs who’d worked with her at Sterling.
Present day: Monroe Global valued at $800 million and growing. Thirty-seven successful acquisitions. Zero failed deals. Based in Silver Springs with offices in London, Dubai, and Singapore.
I stared at the screen, my throat tight.
She’d done all of this alone. While pregnant. While raising a child. With nothing but her intelligence and determination.
While I’d been here, drowning in guilt and whiskey, telling myself there was nothing I could do.
My phone buzzed. A text from Marcus: I hear your wife is quite the businesswoman. Built her empire while you were busy destroying yours. Poetic, don’t you think?
I ignored him, opening a new search window instead.
"Aria Monroe child" I typed, hitting enter.
Nothing. No birth announcents, no social dia posts, no school records. She’d kept the child completely hidden from public view.
Smart. If anyone knew she had a Blackwood heir, the vultures would circle.
I tried another search. "Aria Monroe family."
Still nothing recent. But I found older articles from four years ago.
Monroe Family Business Saved by Blackwood Alliance
Vivian Monroe and Damien Blackwood Spotted Together
Aria Monroe Blackwood Missing After Family Scandal
I clicked on the last one, my stomach churning.
The article was brief. Speculated that I’d divorced Aria for her sister. ntioned the contract marriage. Called a "heartless billionaire who discarded his wife."
They weren’t wrong.
I closed the laptop, unable to read anymore.
My desk phone rang. I picked it up without checking the caller ID. "What?"
"Still as charming as ever, little brother." Marcus’s voice oozed through the speaker, smooth and mocking.
"I told you I’d call you back," I said, my voice tight.
"Yes, about your ex-wife that ca back from the dead." He laughed, the sound setting my teeth on edge. "But now I hear she’s back in town. And she’s magnificent, Damien. Absolutely magnificent."
My hand clenched around the phone. "Why have you been watching her?"
"I’ve been watching everything." His tone darkened. "You, your company, your tragic little love story. It’s better than any drama I could have imagined."
"Stay away from Aria."
"Why?" His voice turned sharp. "Afraid I’ll tell her the truth about our family? About what Father really did to Mother? About why he really exiled ?"
My blood ran cold. "That has nothing to do with her."
"Oh, but it has everything to do with her." Marcus’s voice dropped lower. "She married into this family. She deserves to know what kind of monsters we really are."
"Marcus"
"I’ll be seeing you soon, little brother. Very soon." The line went dead.
I slamd the phone down, my chest heaving.
Marcus was coming back and he knew about Aria.
I grabbed my cell phone from where I’d thrown it earlier, relieved to find it still working. I dialed my head of security.
"Mr. Blackwood?" Jas answered on the first ring.
"I need a full security detail on Aria Monroe," I said, my words rapid. "Twenty-four-hour surveillance. She doesn’t know about it keep your distance. But if anyone approaches her, I want to know imdiately."
"Yes, sir. Any specific threats we should be aware of?"
"My brother Marcus." I paused. "He’s back in the city. And he’s targeting her."
"Understood, sir. We’ll have soone on her within the hour."
I ended the call and opened my laptop again, pulling up everything I could find on Aria’s current life.
Monroe Global headquarters in Silver Springs. A penthouse apartnt in the sa city—purchased eighteen months ago for $4.2 million, paid in cash.
She had money now. Real money. The kind that ant she’d never need or anyone else again.
The kind that ant she’d built herself into exactly what I’d once accused her of wanting to be.
Except she’d done it without . Without my na or my money or my influence.
She’d done it in spite of .
My chest ached I clicked through more files. Her company’s acquisitions, her board of directors, her public appearances.
Every photograph showed the sa thing: Aria in a power. No smile unless it was for a client or investor. No softness, no vulnerability.
Nothing like the woman who used to curl up in the library with a book. Nothing like the woman who’d once looked at like I hung the moon, even though I never deserved it.
I’d killed that woman. Destroyed her completely.
And she’d risen from as soone untouchable.
My phone buzzed again. Another ssage from her: I ant what I said. Don’t contact again. I’ve moved on. You should too.
But I couldn’t move on. Not when I could still see her face that day from years ago, hands trembling over her stomach as she told she was pregnant.
Not when I could still hear her voice breaking as I’d accused her of lying, of trapping .
Not when I knew, with absolute certainty, that I’d thrown away the only thing that had ever mattered.
I typed back: I know you hate . I know I destroyed everything. But if you kept our baby, if I have a child, I’m begging you. Please. Just tell .
The response ca imdiately: You don’t get to know. You gave up that right when you chose your pride over our family
Our family.
She’d said "our family."
That ant there was a child. My child.
I stood abruptly, my chair crashing backward.
I had to see her. Had to make her understand that I would spend the rest of my life making this right.
My office door burst open.
"Sir, you can’t just" My assistant’s protest died as Marcus stepped into my office, looking exactly like he had ten years ago. With a scar cutting through his left eyebrow that hadn’t been there before.
"Hello, little brother." He smiled, and it was all teeth. "Surprise. I thought it was ti we had a chat about your beautiful wife. And about how I’m going to help you get her back."
I stared at him, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
"Or destroy you trying," Marcus added, his smile widening. "Whichever is more entertaining."
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