The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir Chapter 15 – Mother & Son

Aria pov

The late afternoon sun stread through the tall windows of Silver Springs Elite Academy as I waited in the parent pickup line.

Other mothers chatted around , designer bags and perfect highlights, discussing vacation hos and charity galas. I smiled politely when necessary, but kept my distance.

They didn’t need to know . And I didn’t need their judgnt when they inevitably discovered I was a single mother who’d clawed her way up from nothing.

The doors opened, and children poured out like in a wave of chaos and noise.

Then I saw him.

Noah ran toward with his backpack bouncing, his little legs pumping as fast as they could go, his face lit up with pure joy.

"Mama!" He crashed into my legs with the force of a tiny hurricane.

I dropped to my knees and pulled him close, breathing in his little-boy sll of crayons and playground dust. "Hi, baby. Did you have a good day?"

"We learned about space!" His ice-blue eyes sparkled with excitent as he pulled back to look at . "Miss Jennifer said there’s a planet made of diamonds! Can we go there?"

I laughed, tucking a dark curl behind his ear. "That’s pretty far away, sweetheart."

"But you’re really smart, Mama." He touched my face with his small hand, his expression serious. "You can do anything."

My heart squeezed. "Co on, let’s go ho."

I took his hand and we walked toward my car, his chatter filling the space between us.

"And Tyler brought his daddy to show-and-tell," Noah said, his voice casual but his grip on my hand tightening slightly. "His daddy is a firefighter. He brought his helt and everything."

I felt the familiar pang in my chest. "That sounds cool."

"Yeah." Noah was quiet for a mont as I buckled him into his car seat. Then: "Mama?"

"Yeah, baby?" I looked up from the buckle.

"Tyler has a daddy who picks him up sotis." His ice-blue eyes t mine, so heartbreakingly similar to Damien’s. "Where’s my daddy?"

The world tilted slightly. I’d known this question would co eventually. Had prepared answers, practiced them in front of the mirror.

But nothing prepared for the hope in his eyes.

I sat back on my heels, choosing my words carefully. "Your daddy... is working far away, sweetheart."

"Oh." He processed this, his small face thoughtful. "Does he know about ?"

The question hit like a punch to the gut. "It’s complicated, Noah."

"That’s what you always say." He looked down at his dinosaur backpack, his fingers tracing the T-Rex design. "But will he ever co ho?"

I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t promise him sothing I might never be able to deliver.

So instead, I cupped his face in my hands. "I love you so much, baby. More than anything in the whole world."

"I know, Mama." He wrapped his little arms around my neck, squeezing tight. "I love you too. The mostest."

I held him there in the parking lot, other families moving around us, my eyes burning with tears I refused to let fall.

When I finally pulled back, Noah was smiling again, the mont apparently forgotten in the way only a four-year-old could manage.

"Can we get ice cream?" He asked hopefully.

"Nice try." I booped his nose, making him giggle. "But it’s almost dinner ti."

"Aww." He flopped back dramatically in his seat. "You’re so an, Mama."

"The anest," I agreed, closing his door and climbing into the driver’s seat.

As I drove ho, Noah chatted about his day, but I was only half-listening. The rest of my mind was stuck on his questions.

Does he know about ?

Yes, I thought. He suspects. And he’s desperate to know for sure.

My phone rang through the car’s Bluetooth. Olivia’s na flashed on the screen.

"Hey," I answered, grateful for the distraction.

"Please tell you’re free for dinner," Olivia said without preamble. "I just finished a twelve-hour shift and I need adult conversation and wine. Lots of wine."

"Miss Olivia!" Noah called from the backseat. "Are you coming over?"

"Is that my favorite little man?" Olivia’s voice brightened. "Of course I’m coming over. I’ll bring pizza."

"With extra cheese?" Noah asked hopefully.

"Would I bring anything else?" Olivia laughed. "See you in twenty, Aria."

She hung up, and I felt so of the tension ease from my shoulders. Olivia had been my lifeline for the past four years. The only person who knew the whole truth.

By the ti we got ho, Noah was half-asleep in his car seat. I carried him up to the penthouse, his head heavy on my shoulder.

"I’m not tired," he mumbled against my neck, even as his eyes drooped closed.

"Of course not," I agreed, unlocking the door. "You’re wide awake."

The penthouse was exactly as I’d left it this morning—clean, modern, safe. Everything I’d worked for, everything I’d built to give Noah the life he deserved.

I settled him on the couch with his favorite dinosaur docuntary playing softly. Within minutes, he was sprawled out, fast asleep.

I stood there watching him, my heart aching with fierce love and terrifying fear.

He looked so much like Damien. The sa jawline starting to erge, the sa dark lashes, those devastating blue eyes.

How much longer could I keep them apart? How much longer before Damien figured it out?

The doorbell rang.

I opened it to find Olivia holding three pizza boxes and a bottle of wine, her auburn curls escaping from her ponytail, her scrubs rumpled from her shift.

"You look like hell," she said cheerfully, pushing past into the apartnt.

"Love you too," I said dryly, closing the door behind her.

Olivia set the boxes on the kitchen counter and pulled into a hug. "Rough day?"

"You could say that." I hugged her back, grateful for her solid presence.

"Noah asked about his father again?" She pulled back, reading my face with the skill of soone who’d known through my worst monts.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"Oh, honey." She squeezed my shoulders. "You can’t keep this secret forever."

"I can try," I said, my jaw setting stubbornly.

"Aria"

"I know." I moved away, pouring us both wine. "I know I’m being unreasonable. But you didn’t see Damien that day, Liv. You didn’t hear the things he said."

"I know." Her voice softened. "I held you while you cried for months. I was there for the panic attacks and the nightmares. I watched you build yourself back up from nothing."

"Then you understand why I can’t"

"I understand why you’re scared," she interrupted gently. "But I also see that little boy in there who asks about his father. Who draws pictures of a family he’s never had."

I took a large gulp of wine, the liquid burning my throat.

"Just think about it," Olivia said, pulling plates from the cabinet with the ease of soone who’d been here a thousand tis. "That’s all I’m asking."

We ate dinner with Noah when he woke up, the three of us crowded around my dining table. Olivia kept the conversation light, telling silly stories from the hospital that made Noah laugh until he snorted.

This was my family. This was enough.

It had to be enough.

After dinner, I gave Noah a bath and tucked him into bed, going through our nightly routine.

"Mama?" His voice was drowsy as I pulled the covers up to his chin.

"Yeah, baby?"

"I dread about him last night." Noah’s eyes were already half-closed, his hand clutching his stuffed T-Rex. "My daddy."

My blood ran cold. "You did?"

"Mhmm." He yawned, his little face peaceful. "He looked sad. I think he misses us."

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Could only stare at my son’s innocent face as he drifted off to sleep.

When I finally returned to the living room, Olivia took one look at my face and poured more wine.

"He dread about Damien," I said, my voice hollow. "He said Damien looked sad. That he misses us."

Olivia was quiet for a long mont. "Kids are perceptive. Maybe."

"Don’t," I cut her off. "Don’t tell it’s a sign or fate or whatever. It’s just a dream."

"Is it?" She tilted her head, her eyes serious. "Or is it a little boy’s subconscious trying to process why half of his identity is missing?"

I stood abruptly, pacing to the window. My phone buzzed on the coffee table.

Olivia picked it up, her eyebrows rising. "It’s Lucas Hayes. He’s asking if you’re free for lunch tomorrow."

"Tell him yes," I said, making a decision. "Tell him I’d love to."

Olivia set the phone down slowly. "Aria, don’t use that man to avoid dealing with Damien."

"I’m not using anyone." I turned to face her. "I’m moving on. Like I should have done years ago."

"Moving on is healthy," Olivia agreed carefully. "But running away isn’t moving on. It’s just running."

"What do you want to do?" I demanded, frustration bleeding through. "Go to Damien and say ’surprise, you have a son’? Let him back into our lives so he can destroy us again?"

"I want you to stop being so scared," Olivia said quietly. "I want you to trust that you’re strong enough to handle whatever cos next."

"I am handling it," I insisted.

"Are you?" She stood, gathering her things. "Because from where I’m standing, you’re barely holding it together."

She kissed my cheek before I could respond, her voice soft. "I love you. But you can’t protect Noah from the truth forever. Eventually, it will find you both."

After she left, I stood at the window for a long ti, nursing my wine and trying not to think about Damien’s ssages.

Trying not to rember the desperate need in his voice when he’d begged to know about the baby.

Trying not to wonder if Noah’s dream ant sothing more than just a child’s imagination.

My phone buzzed again.

This ti it was Damien: 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.

I read it three tis, my hands shaking.

Then I walked to Noah’s room, standing in his doorway, watching him sleep in the soft glow of his nightlight.

"What do I do, baby?" I whispered into the darkness. "What do I do?"