Damien pov
I drove ho on autopilot, my mind racing through mories I’d spent three years trying to bury in therapy sessions and work and anything that would keep from thinking about what I’d done.
I pulled into my penthouse garage and took the private elevator up to my apartnt, standing in the middle of my living room and looking at everything I’d built. It was all cold perfection—expensive furniture that no one ever sat on, art that no one ever looked at, windows that overlooked a city I barely saw. Everything here was dead in the way that I’d been dead for thirty-one years, until Aria had walked into my life with her quiet intelligence and unexpected kindness and made feel things I’d never let myself feel before.
And I’d thrown her away like she was nothing, when she was actually everything.
I walked to my study and pulled out a box I’d hidden three years ago in the back of my closet, behind suits I never wore. Inside were the only photos I had of Aria from our brief, disastrous relationship.
Most were from public events—formal charity galas where she’d stood beside in expensive dresses, her smile never reaching her eyes, her body language screaming discomfort even though she’d never complained.
But there was one photo that was different, tucked at the bottom of the box like contraband. It had been taken at the lodge during the weekend I made love to Aria, captured in a mont when Aria hadn’t known I was watching. She was laughing in the photo, really laughing with her whole body, looking at sothing off-cara that had delighted her. Her hair was wild from the wind, her cheeks flushed from the cold, her eyes bright with genuine happiness. She looked free and beautiful and completely herself in a way she’d never been around .
I’d taken that photo without her knowledge and kept it even though I’d told myself I felt nothing for her, because even then so part of had known the truth. She was special. She was ho. She was everything I’d never let myself want because wanting things ant being vulnerable, and vulnerability ant being hurt the way Marcus had been hurt, the way everyone in my family had been hurt.
So I’d hurt her first, destroyed everything before it could destroy , and called it self-preservation when it was really just cowardice.
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number. The ssage made my blood run cold:
Cute family reunion at the preschool today. Noah looks just like you. Sa eyes. Sa smile. Would be a sha if sothing happened to him. —M
Attached was a photo taken today at the preschool—Noah walking between Aria and , his small hand reaching for mine, all three of us captured in a mont that looked almost like a real family instead of the broken pieces we actually were.
Marcus had been there. Watching. Photographing. Planning whatever revenge he’d been brewing for years.
My hands shook with rage as I called my head of security, a man nad Davidson who’d worked for for five years and had never once given reason to doubt his loyalty.
"I need you to triple the team on Aria Monroe and Noah Monroe," I ordered, my voice steadier than I felt. "Close protection, constant surveillance. I want eyes on them every second of every day."
"Yes, sir." He paused, and I could hear the hesitation in his voice before he asked, "Should we inform Ms. Monroe about the additional security?"
"No." I looked at Marcus’s threat again, the words seeming to burn themselves into my retinas. "Just keep them safe. They can hate for it later if they need to."
After I hung up, I found myself staring at the photo Marcus had sent along with his ssage. The three of us looked like a family in that captured mont, a tableau of sothing I’d never allowed myself to truly want. It was everything I’d been too afraid to reach for, and everything Marcus wanted to destroy because he knew exactly how much it would hurt .
I’d spent three years running from the truth, from feelings I couldn’t control, from the undeniable fact that I’d fallen for my wife and been too broken, too damaged by my childhood to admit it. Now it seed like it was too late for regrets, too late for second chances, too late for anything except damage control.
Unless Aria gave one more chance. And why would she do that after everything I’d done, after the way I’d systematically broken her heart and pushed her away?
My phone rang again, and Aria’s na flashed across the screen. I answered imdiately.
"Soone’s following ." Her voice was tight with barely controlled fear. "A black SUV. They’ve been behind since I left the school, matching every turn I make."
"That’s my security team," I said as I stood up from my desk, already reaching for my keys. "I should have told you before I arranged it. I’m sorry for frightening you."
"Your what?" The anger that replaced her fear was imdiate and sharp. "You’re having followed without my knowledge or consent?"
"Protected," I corrected, though I knew the distinction probably ant nothing to her right now. I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. "Marcus contacted today with a threat. He’s been watching Noah, taking photos. I needed to make sure you were both safe while I figured out how to handle this."
"Marcus?" The way her voice shook told she understood exactly what that ant. "Your brother? The one you told about?"
"Yes." I was already in the elevator, punching the button for the parking garage with more force than necessary. "Where are you now?"
"Almost ho." She paused, and I could hear her breathing, could picture her checking her mirrors. "Damien, is Noah actually in danger? Tell the truth."
"Not while I’m alive to prevent it," I said, and the words ca out fierce, almost violent in their intensity. "I swear to you, Aria. Nothing will happen to him. I won’t allow it."
"How can you promise that?" She sounded close to tears now, her voice breaking on the words. "You couldn’t even keep his existence secret from the press, and now you’re telling you can protect him from your own brother?"
"That was Vivian who leaked the story to the press," I said as I stepped into the elevator. "Your sister has been selling information about Noah to anyone who’ll pay for it. She’s the one who broke the story to the tabloids."
The silence that followed was heavy with betrayal and resignation. Then, quietly: "Of course she did. I should have known."
"I’ve already handled it," I assured her as the elevator descended toward the parking garage. "I bought off every outlet that was considering running the story, and threatened legal action against anyone who published it. The story won’t run, not now."
"This ti," she said, and her voice sounded defeated. "But what about next ti? What about when Marcus decides to actually do sothing instead of just sending threats? What about when" She stopped herself, and I could hear her struggling to breathe normally. "I can’t do this, Damien. I can’t put Noah in danger just because you happen to be his father."
"You’re not the one putting him in danger," I said as I got into my car and started the engine. "I am. By existing, by being a Blackwood, by being my father’s son and carrying all that family history and those family enemies with ."
"Then maybe" Her voice broke completely this ti. "Maybe you should stay away from us. For his sake, for Noah’s protection."
The words gutted even though I knew she was right, even though the sa thought had crossed my mind a hundred tis. But I also knew it wouldn’t work.
"Maybe I should," I admitted as I started driving, almost without thinking, toward her apartnt building. "But I won’t, because running from Marcus won’t actually protect Noah. It’ll just make him an easier target, soone Marcus can get to without having to go through first."
"So what do we do?" She sounded exhausted . "How do we handle this?"
"We work together," I said, taking a turn too fast and forcing myself to slow down. "You let protect you both with all the resources I have available. And maybe, eventually, when you’re ready, you let actually be part of Noah’s life instead of just watching from a distance."
"I don’t know if I can trust you with that," she said, and the honesty in her voice cut deeper than any accusation would have.
"I know you can’t, not yet," I acknowledged. "But you can trust that I’ll die before I let Marcus hurt our son. That much I can promise you without any doubt."
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