Chapter 16
Aria pov
The morning sun felt too bright and cheerful for the knot of anxiety in my stomach.
“Come on, Mama!” Noah tugged at my hand, pulling me toward the playground entrance. “I want to swing p>
“Okay, okay.” I laughed despite my nerves, letting him drag me through the gates of Riverside Park.
It was Saturday, and the park was already filling with families. Children’s laughter mixed with the sounds of dogs barking and birds singing. Normal, peaceful, safe.
So why did I feel like I was walking into danger?
“Push me!” Noah climbed onto a swing, his little legs kicking with excitement.
I moved behind him, giving him a gentle push. “Not too high p>
“Higher!” He squealed, laughing as he rose into the air.
I pushed harder, watching him soar, his dark curls flying in the wind. He looked so happy, so carefree.
This was what mattered. This moment with my little boy.
Not the messages from Damien that I’d deleted without reading. Not the lunch with Lucas I had planned for Monday. Not the constant fear that everything I’d built would come crashing down.
Just this.
“Look, Mama!” Noah pointed to a jogger passing by on the path. “That man runs fast p>
I glanced over absently, then froze.
The jogger had dark hair. Tall, athletic build. Expensive running gear.
And he was slowing down, looking our way.
My heart stopped.
Damien.
He jogged past regularly, his security team had mentioned in their reports. This was his route, his park.
I’d been so careful to avoid the times they’d noted, but today was Saturday. He never came on Saturdays.
Except apparently he did.
“Mama, push!” Noah’s voice pulled my attention back.
But I couldn’t move. Could only watch as Damien jogged closer, still not looking directly at us but heading this way.
Noah’s swing was slowing. “Mama p>
I snapped back to reality. “Baby, let’s go to the slide instead p>
“But I want to swing!” He protested, his voice rising.
“Noah.” I kept my tone firm but gentle. “Slide. Now p>
He heard something in my voice that made him comply, scrambling off the swing with a confused look.
I grabbed his hand, maybe too tightly, and started walking quickly toward the other side of the playground.
“Mama, you’re hurting my hand,” Noah complained.
“Sorry, baby.” I loosened my grip but didn’t slow down. “I just—let’s go to the big slide over there p>
We were almost to the far playground when Noah’s ball rolled out of his backpack, bouncing away across the grass.
“My ball!” He yanked free from my hand before I could stop him, running after it.
“Noah!” I called, but he was already gone, chasing the ball toward the jogging path.
Toward Damien.
My blood turned cold as I ran after him, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might break through my ribs.
Noah reached the ball just as Damien jogged closer. He bent down to pick it up, his small body directly in Damien’s path.
Damien slowed, his attention caught by the small child in front of him.
“Sorry!” I called out, my voice higher than normal. I reached Noah, snatching him up along with the ball. “Sorry, excuse us p>
I turned away quickly, holding Noah against my chest, his face buried in my shoulder.
“Mama?” His voice was muffled. “Why are you scared p>
“I’m not scared,” I lied, my heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. “Just didn’t want you to get in the jogger’s way p>
But as I walked away, I felt eyes on my back.
I forced myself not to look. Forced myself to keep walking, to stay calm, to not run like every instinct was screaming at me to do.
“You’re squishing me,” Noah complained.
“Sorry.” I set him down but kept his hand firmly in mine. “Let’s go home, baby p>
“But we just got here!” He looked up at me with those ice-blue eyes, so heartbreakingly like his father’s. “You promised we could stay all morning p>
“I know, but” I glanced back despite myself.
Damien had stopped jogging. He stood on the path, looking in our direction.
Looking at Noah.
My throat closed. Could he tell? Could he see his own features in my son’s face from this distance?
“Mama, please?” Noah tugged at my hand. “Five more minutes p>
I looked down at him, at his hopeful expression, and felt my resolve cracking.
He deserved to play. Deserved to be a normal kid who spent Saturday mornings at the park.
I couldn’t let Damien take that from us too.
“Five minutes,” I agreed, my voice tight. “But stay where I can see you p>
“Yay!” He ran toward the slides, his earlier confusion forgotten.
I followed slowly, positioning myself so I could watch Noah while keeping Damien in my peripheral vision.
He was still standing there, staring.
Then his phone rang. I saw him answer it, his posture changing from curious to alert. He spoke briefly, then turned and jogged away in the opposite direction.
I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
Safe. We were safe.
For now.
“Mama, watch this!” Noah called from the top of the slide, waving enthusiastically.
I waved back, forcing a smile. “I’m watching p>
He slid down with his arms in the air, laughing the whole way.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with trembling hands.
A text from an unknown number: Were you at Riverside Park today? I could have sworn I saw you.
Damien.
My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the phone.
How did he get this number? I’d changed it three times since coming back.
I typed back quickly: You must be mistaken. Then deleted it without sending.
Instead, I wrote: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
His response was immediate: Black hair, elegant even in casual clothes. Picking up a little boy with dark curls.
He’d seen Noah. He’d seen my baby.
I looked up frantically, scanning the park. Was he still here? Watching us?
“Noah!” I called, my voice sharp with panic. “Time to go p>
“But Mama p>
“Now.” I grabbed his hand, pulling him toward the parking lot.
“You said five minutes!” He protested, trying to dig his heels in.
“Change of plans, baby.” I scooped him up, ignoring his squirming. “We’ll get ice cream on the way home p>
“Really?” That distracted him momentarily.
“Really.” I was practically running now, my heart in my throat.
We reached my car and I buckled Noah in with shaking hands, glancing around constantly.
No sign of Damien. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching.
My phone buzzed again as I climbed into the driver’s seat.
Damien: The boy. How old is he?
I stared at the message, my chest tight.
Three more texts came through in rapid succession.
Aria, please.
His eyes.
Was that my son?
I turned the phone off without responding, my hands trembling on the steering wheel.
“Mama?” Noah’s voice was small from the backseat. “Did I do something wrong p>
“No, baby.” I forced myself to breathe, to sound normal. “You didn’t do anything wrong p>
“Then why are you crying p>
I touched my face, surprised to find tears on my cheeks. “Just happy tears, sweetheart. I’m just so happy to spend time with you p>
It was a lie. But what else could I tell him?
That his father had almost met him today? That four years of hiding might be unraveling with every passing second?
That I was terrified of losing him?
I drove home in silence, Noah chattering about ice cream flavors while I tried to stop my hands from shaking.
When we got home, I let Noah pick out two movies and made him popcorn, desperate to keep him distracted and safe inside our home.
My phone stayed off. I couldn’t deal with more messages from Damien. Couldn’t handle the questions I knew were coming.
But that evening, after Noah was asleep, I turned it back on.
Seventeen missed calls from Damien. Twelve text messages.
I opened them with shaking hands.
I know it was you.
The boy has my eyes.
How old is he, Aria?
Please. I’m begging you.
If he’s mine, I have a right to know.
I made mistakes. Unforgivable mistakes. But don’t punish our child for what I did to you.
Let me meet him. Let me be his father.
I’ll do anything.
And finally: I’ll be at your office Monday morning. We need to talk. Face to face. No more hiding.
I read the last message three times, my heart sinking.
He knew. Or at least, he was close enough to knowing that he wouldn’t stop until he had the truth.
Monday. I had two days to figure out what to say. Two days to prepare for the conversation that would change everything.
I walked to Noah’s room, standing in the doorway like I did every night.
He was sprawled across his bed, his stuffed T-Rex tucked under one arm, his face peaceful in sleep.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I whispered into the darkness. “I tried so hard to protect you. But I think our time is running out p>
My phone lit up one more time.
A final message from Damien: I saw him, Aria. And I know. Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you think will happen—we’ll figure it out together. But please. Don’t keep me from my son.
I turned off the phone and slid down the doorframe, sitting on the floor outside Noah’s room.