Aria pov
The morning after Damien’s visit, I woke to a text ssage that made my stomach tighten.
Lucas Hayes: Hey Aria, hope I’m not being too forward, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our conversation. Would you like to have dinner this week? I promise I’ll only talk business if that’s what you prefer.
I stared at the ssage for a long mont, my thumb hovering over the screen. The timing couldn’t be worse—or maybe it was perfect. After last night, after watching Damien cry in Noah’s room and feeling that dangerous pull toward forgiveness, I needed distance. I needed perspective.
I needed to remind myself that there were other options in the world besides the man who’d destroyed .
Aria: Dinner sounds nice. How about Thursday?
His response ca within seconds, enthusiastic and warm in a way that felt like sunlight after living in shadows.
For the rest of the week, I threw myself into avoiding Damien. His calls went to voicemail. His texts received polite, professional responses about Noah’s safety but nothing personal. When he showed up at Monroe Global’s headquarters, my assistant turned him away with practiced efficiency.
Wednesday evening, everything changed.
I was in the kitchen preparing Noah’s favorite pasta when he wandered in from the living room, dragging his stuffed dinosaur behind him. He’d been quieter than usual all day, and I’d chalked it up to the lingering effects of his cold.
But the look on his face told sothing else was bothering him.
"Mama?" His small voice was hesitant.
"Yes, sweetheart?" I turned from the stove, imdiately giving him my full attention.
He climbed onto one of the kitchen chairs, his little legs swinging as he studied with those too-observant ice-blue eyes. "Why does Mr. Damien have my eyes?"
My hand froze on the wooden spoon. Of course he’d noticed. Noah was brilliant, more perceptive than most adults gave three-year-olds credit for.
"What do you an, baby?" I stalled, my heart hamring.
"His eyes. They’re the sa color as mine." Noah touched his own face, as if checking. "Auntie Olivia said I have special eyes. Does Mr. Damien have special eyes too?"
I set down the spoon and moved to sit beside him, my mind racing. This was the conversation I’d been dreading, the one I’d hoped to postpone for years. But looking at my son’s earnest, confused face, I knew I couldn’t lie.
Olivia had warned about this. "Children know when you’re lying," she’d said. "And the lies you tell now beco the trust issues they have later."
I took a deep breath. "Noah, Mr. Damien is... he’s your daddy."
Noah’s eyes went wide. "My daddy? Like Tommy’s daddy who lives with him?"
"Yes, sweetheart. Like that."
For a mont, he just stared at , processing. Then his little face crumpled with confusion. "But... Why doesn’t he live here? Why doesn’t he want to be my daddy?"
The question shattered sothing inside .
"Oh, baby, no." I pulled him onto my lap, holding him tight. "It’s not that he doesn’t want to be your daddy. It’s complicated, but it has nothing to do with you. Do you understand? You are so loved, Noah. So, so loved."
"Then why doesn’t he live with us?" His voice was small, wounded. "Tommy’s daddy lives with him. And Maya’s daddy too. They eat breakfast together and go to the park. Why can’t my daddy do that?"
I closed my eyes, fighting back tears. How did I explain years of betrayal and pain to a three-year-old? How did I make him understand without poisoning him against his father or making him feel unwanted?
"Your daddy is very busy with important work," I began carefully.
"Does he?" Noah looked up at with such desperate hope it nearly broke . "Does he really love ?"
"Yes," I whispered. "He really does love you."
Noah was quiet for a mont, then: "Can he co live with us? So can we be a family like Tommy’s family?"
"It’s not that simple, sweetheart."
"Why not?"
Because he destroyed . Because I can’t trust him. Because letting him into our lives ans risking everything I’ve built.
But I couldn’t say any of that to my three-year-old son who just wanted what every child wanted—both parents living together.
"Because sotis grown-ups need ti to figure things out," I said instead. "But your daddy wants to spend ti with you. He wants to be part of your life. Would you like that?"
Noah nodded eagerly, a smile breaking through the confusion. "Can we go to the park? And get ice cream? Tommy’s daddy takes him for ice cream."
"I’m sure your daddy would love that." The words felt painful but I forced them out. For Noah. Everything for Noah.
He threw his small arms around my neck. "I love you, Mama."
"I love you too, baby. So much." I held him close, breathing in his little-boy scent . "Nothing will ever change that. No matter what happens, you and —we’re a team, okay?"
"Okay." He pulled back, already brightening. "Can I tell Auntie Olivia I have a daddy now?"
"Sure, sweetheart."
He scrambled off my lap and ran back to the living room, leaving alone in the kitchen with tears streaming down my face.
I’d known this mont would co eventually. I’d just thought I’d have more ti to prepare. More ti before the careful walls I’d built between Damien and Noah started crumbling.
He didn’t want to be my daddy.
Noah’s words echoed in my mind, and I felt a fresh wave of anger at Damien. This was his fault. All of it. If he hadn’t been so cold, so cruel, so quick to believe lies about .
***********
On Thursday evening, I dropped Noah off at Olivia’s apartnt.
"Hot date?" Olivia asked, bouncing Noah on her hip while giving an appraising look.
"Business dinner," I corrected, though the dress I wore suggested otherwise.
"Mmhmm." She wasn’t fooled. "With the handso tech mogul who can’t stop staring at you at networking events?"
"Maybe."
"Good." Olivia’s expression turned serious. "You deserve soone who sees your worth, Aria. Soone who didn’t have to lose you to realize what he had."
"Auntie Olivia!" Noah interrupted excitedly. "I have a daddy now! Mama told !"
Olivia’s eyes widened, snapping to mine. We’ll talk later, I mouthed.
She nodded slowly, then smiled at Noah. "That’s wonderful, sweetie. I bet your daddy is very lucky to have you."
Now, sitting across from Lucas at ridian—one of the city’s most exclusive rooftop restaurants—I found myself actually relaxing for the first ti in days. The city lights glittered below us like scattered diamonds, and Lucas had been the perfect gentleman all evening, making laugh with stories about disastrous investor etings and startup failures.
"So how did you get into tech?" I asked, genuinely curious. Lucas had built his empire from nothing, much like I had, and there was sothing comforting about being with soone who understood that journey.
"Would you believe if I said it started with a video ga addiction?" He grinned, that easy charm that made him so likable on full display.
"I might need more details than that."
"I was sixteen, completely obsessed with this online RPG," he began, leaning back in his chair. "Spent every free mont playing it. My mom worked two jobs and was never ho, so I had a lot of free ti. One day, I got frustrated with how the inventory system worked in the ga—it was clunky and inefficient. So I taught myself to code and built a better one."
"Just like that?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Just like that," he confird. "Turns out I had a knack for it. By the ti I was eighteen, I’d built my first real project, it turned out to be an inventory managent system for small businesses. I sold it for fifty thousand dollars when I was nineteen."
"That’s incredible," I said, genuinely impressed. "What did you do with the money?"
"Bought my mom a house." His expression softened. "Nothing fancy, just a small place in a decent neighborhood where she didn’t have to work herself to death anymore. She cried for three days straight."
I found myself leaning forward, drawn in by his story and the genuine warmth in his voice when he talked about his mother. "Is she still there?"
"Yeah, and she refuses to move even though I could buy her a mansion now." He laughed and shook his head. "Says she doesn’t need anything fancy, that the house I bought her is perfect because I bought it with love."
"She sounds wonderful," I said softly.
"She is." Lucas t my eyes across the table. "She’d like you, I think. She’s always telling I need to find soone who knows what it’s like to build sothing from nothing, who understands that success isn’t about the money, it’s about proving everyone wrong."
"Is that what you’re doing?" I asked. "Proving people wrong?"
"Every single day." He reached across the table and covered my hand with his, the gesture casual but aningful. "Just like you are. That’s why I admire you so much, Aria. You took everything life threw at you and turned it into empire. Not many people could do that."
His hand was warm on mine, his touch gentle and uncomplicated. No hidden agendas, no gas, no past betrayals weighing down every interaction. Just simple human connection with soone who genuinely seed to care about .
"You deserve soone who sees your worth, Aria," Lucas said quietly, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of my hand. "Soone who puts you first, who celebrates your success instead of feeling threatened by it. Soone who"
"Soone who isn’t Damien Blackwood," I finished for him.
"I wasn’t going to say it," Lucas said with a small smile. "But yeah. Soone who isn’t him."
I should have pulled my hand away. Should have reminded Lucas that I wasn’t ready for this, that my life was too complicated right now for romance. But sitting there with the city lights spread out below us and Lucas looking at like I was sothing precious, I found myself not wanting to pull away.
"Lucas," I started, not sure what I was going to say.
"You don’t have to say anything," he interrupted gently. "I know the timing’s terrible. I know you’re dealing with a lot." He paused, studying my face. "Can I ask you sothing though? What about your family?"
I felt my shoulders tense. "There’s not much to say. We’re not close."
"I’m sorry. That must be hard, especially with Noah."
"It’s fine," I said quickly. "Noah has , and that’s enough."
Lucas studied for a mont. "You know, you don’t have to do everything alone. I know you can, but you don’t have to."
I looked down at my wine glass. "I learned a long ti ago that the only person I can rely on is myself."
"That’s a lonely way to live."
"Maybe. But it’s safe."
"Safe isn’t the sa as happy," Lucas said gently. "When was the last ti you let yourself just be happy, Aria? Not successful or powerful or in control. Just happy."
The question caught off guard. I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again. When was the last ti? Before the marriage? Before the betrayal? I couldn’t even rember.
"That’s what I thought," Lucas said, but there was no judgnt in his voice. "You’ve been in survival mode for so long, you’ve forgotten how to live."
"And you think you can teach ?" I asked, half defensive, half curious.
"I think you can teach yourself. You just need soone who makes you feel safe enough to try." He smiled. "I’d like to be that person, if you’ll let ."
"Lucas, my life is complicated. Damien is Noah’s father, and he’s not going away. There’s history there, and pain, and"
"I know," he interrupted. "I know about Damien Blackwood. Everyone in this city knows about Damien Blackwood. But here’s what I see: a woman who deserves better than what he gave her. A woman who’s stronger than she realizes. And a woman I can’t stop thinking about."
I felt my cheeks flush. "You barely know ."
"Then let know you better. No pressure, no expectations. Just dinner, conversation, getting to know each other. Let show you what it’s like to be with soone who puts you first."
My phone buzzed on the table. I glanced down and saw Damien’s na. Another text. Another attempt to see , to talk, to explain. I turned the phone face down without reading it.
"See, that’s what I an," Lucas said, nodding at my phone. "Even when he’s not here, he’s taking up space in your life. Don’t you want sothing different?"
"I do," I admitted quietly. "I really do."
Lucas smiled, genuine and warm. "That’s all I needed to hear."
The waiter approached with dessert nus, but Lucas waved him away. "We’re good for now, thanks."
"Not a dessert person?" I asked.
"I am. But I’m not ready for this evening to end yet." He leaned back in his chair, still holding my hand. "Tell about Noah. What’s he like?"
My face softened automatically. "He’s everything. Smart, funny, too curious for his own good sotis. He asks a million questions about everything."
"He gets that from you, I bet."
"Probably." I smiled despite myself. "He’s obsessed with dinosaurs right now. Has all these toy ones he lines up in very specific orders. If you move one, he knows."
"Sounds like he’s got your attention to detail too."
"Maybe." I felt myself relaxing again, the ntion of Noah grounding . "He’s the best thing I’ve ever done."
"I’d love to et him soti. When you’re ready, of course. No rush."
He leaned closer, and I realized with a start that he was going to kiss . Part of wanted to let him, wanted to lose myself in sothing simple and uncomplicated, wanted to prove to myself that I could move on from Damien completely.
But before his lips could touch mine, I heard a familiar voice behind .
"How touching."
I jerked back and turned to find Damien standing three feet away, his ice-blue eyes blazing with barely controlled fury. He was still in his work suit, his tie loosened like he’d driven straight here from the office, and the look on his face was pure possessive rage.
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