Chapter 44
Aria POV
The elevator ride down from Damien’s penthouse felt like descending into hell. Noah was still crying softly against my shoulder, his small body trembling with fear he was too young to understand but old enough to feel.
“Mama, why was that man scary?” he whispered. “Why did he look at me like that p>
I held him tighter, my heart breaking. “Some people aren’t very nice, baby. But Mama’s going to keep you safe. I promise p>
It was a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. Not anymore.
My phone buzzed constantly in my pocket—messages, calls, alerts. I ignored them all. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting Noah somewhere secure.
The lobby security guard—one of Damien’s, clearly briefed—stepped forward when we emerged. “Ms. Monroe, Mr. Blackwood instructed me to escort you to your vehicle. There are reporters gathering outside p>
“Reporters?” The word came out strangled. “Already p>
“The story broke twenty minutes ago, ma’am. They’re… persistent p>
I looked down at Noah, whose crying had subsided into hiccups. His face was blotchy and red, his clothes wrinkled. He looked exactly like what he was—a frightened three-year-old who’d just had his entire world turned upside down.
And I was about to walk him through a crowd of photographers who’d capture his terror for the morning news cycle.
“Is there a back exit?” I asked quietly.
“Yes, ma’am. This way p>
He led us through a service corridor and out to the underground parking garage. My driver was already there, the SUV running. The security guard opened the door, and I climbed in with Noah still in my arms.
“Straight to the penthouse,” I instructed. “Don’t stop for anything p>
As we pulled out onto the street, I finally looked at my phone. Seventy-three missed calls. Over two hundred messages. My assistant, my board members, Lucas, Olivia, business partners, media contacts I’d cultivated, competitors probably salivating at my distraction.
And one message from Damien: I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. I swear.
I wanted to throw the phone out the window.
Instead, I called Olivia.
She answered on the first ring. “Oh my God, Aria, I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour. Are you okay? Is Noah”
“We’re fine,” I cut her off, keeping my voice calm for Noah’s sake. He’d finally stopped crying and was staring out the window. “We’re heading back to my place. Can you meet us there p>
“Already on my way. I’m bringing my emergency bag.” As a pediatrician, Olivia kept a medical kit stocked with everything from bandages to sedatives. “Has anyone tried to approach you p>
“Not yet. We left through the back p>
“Good. Aria, this is bad. The story is everywhere. Business networks, social media, entertainment sites. Someone had professional photos, not just phone pics. This was coordinated p>
Marcus. It had to be Marcus. He’d probably had someone following us for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“I know,” I said quietly. “We’ll talk when you get there p>
I hung up and pulled up one of the news articles. The headline made my stomach churn:
Ice Queen’s Secret Shame: CEO Aria Monroe Hid Billionaire’s Son for Three Years
The article was vicious. It painted me as a gold-digger who’d trapped Damien with a pregnancy, then hidden the child to extort him later. It referenced our marriage—somehow they’d dug up the records—and speculated about why we’d divorced. There were quotes from “anonymous sources close to the Blackwood family” saying I’d been paid off to leave quietly.
Every word was designed to destroy my reputation.
And the photos. God, the photos. Noah at the playground near my office, his face clearly visible. Noah holding my hand outside Monroe Global headquarters. Noah and Damien together.
My baby’s face was everywhere.
“Mama?” Noah’s small voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. “Are you crying p>
I touched my cheek and found it wet. I hadn’t even realized.
“I’m okay, baby.” I wiped my eyes quickly. “Mama just has something in her eye p>
He reached up and patted my face with his small hand, his expression serious. “It’s okay to be sad, Mama. You tell me that all the time p>
The simple wisdom of it nearly broke me. Here was my three-year-old son trying to comfort me when I should be the one protecting him from all of this.
“You’re right, baby. Thank you.” I kissed his forehead. “You’re such a good boy p>
“The best boy,” he agreed, and despite everything, I almost smiled.
We reached my building, and the doorman had clearly been warned. He waved us through immediately, and my security team was waiting at the private elevator.
“Ms. Monroe.” James, my head of security, stepped forward. “We’ve secured the floor. No one gets in or out without your approval. I’ve also stationed additional guards in the lobby and at the service entrances p>
“Thank you, James.” I shifted Noah’s weight in my arms. He was getting heavy, but I couldn’t bear to put him down. “Has anyone tried to get up here p>
“Three reporters so far. All turned away. We’re monitoring the street cameras for anyone who looks like they’re setting up for a long-term stakeout p>
In my penthouse, I finally set Noah down. He immediately ran to his toy corner, seeking the comfort of familiar things. I watched him start building with his blocks, his small face still troubled.
“Mama, can we have mac and cheese for lunch?” he called over his shoulder. “The kind with the shapes p>
“Of course, baby. Whatever you want p>
Normalcy. He needed normalcy. Even as our world collapsed around us, I needed to give him that.
Olivia arrived fifteen minutes later, letting herself in with the spare key I’d given her. She took one look at me and pulled me into a fierce hug.
“Tell me what you need,” she said quietly.
“A time machine,” I said, my voice breaking. “A way to undo all of this. A way to keep him safe p>
“Failing that p>
I pulled back, wiping my eyes. “A plan. Because I have no idea what to do next p>
We sat in my home office while Noah played in the living room, visible through the glass doors. Olivia pulled up the news coverage on her tablet, and we went through it systematically.
“Most of it is speculation,” she noted. “But someone gave them the basic facts. Your marriage to Damien, the divorce, the timeline that makes Noah obviously his son p>
“Marcus,” I said flatly. “Damien’s brother. He showed up at the penthouse this morning and basically admitted it p>
Olivia’s eyes widened. “The same Marcus who threw a brick through your window p>
“The same. Apparently he’s making a play for control of Blackwood Enterprises, and exposing Noah was part of his strategy p>
“Jesus, Aria. This family She shook her head. “What did Damien say p>
“That he’d fix it.” I laughed bitterly. “Like he fixes everything. By making it worse p>
“That’s not fair. He’s trying”
“I don’t care if he’s trying!” The words burst out of me, louder than I intended. I lowered my voice, glancing at Noah to make sure he hadn’t heard. “I don’t care about his efforts or his intentions or his guilt. All I care about is keeping Noah safe, and Damien has made that impossible p>
Olivia was quiet for a moment. Then she said carefully, “You know this isn’t really his fault, right? Marcus would have found a way to expose this eventually. You couldn’t hide Noah forever p>
“I could have tried,” I whispered. “I should have stayed away. I should never have come back to this city p>
“And done what? Hidden for the rest of your life? Denied Noah his father? Denied yourself the chance to” She stopped.
“To what?” I challenged. “To fall for him again? To let him break my heart a second time? Is that what you were going to say p>
“I was going to say, to heal.” Olivia’s voice was gentle. “You’ve been running for years, Aria. Building walls, focusing on work, pouring everything into Noah and Monroe Global. But you haven’t dealt with what Damien did to you. You haven’t let yourself feel it p>
“I feel it every day,” I said quietly.
“No, you’re angry. That’s not the same thing.” She leaned forward. “And I’m not saying you should forgive him. What he did was unforgivable. But maybe… maybe you need to figure out what you actually want. Not what you think you should want. Not what’s safest or most logical. What does your heart want p>
I looked through the glass doors at Noah, who’d abandoned his blocks and was now making his stuffed lion “fly” around the room with airplane noises.
“My heart wants my son to be safe,” I said. “That’s all. That’s everything p>
Olivia sighed but didn’t push. Instead, she pulled up something else on her tablet. “We need to talk about the practical aspects. The media coverage is one thing, but there are legal implications too p>
“Like what p>
“Like Damien could use this to push for more custody. Joint custody, maybe even primary custody if he argues you were hiding Noah from him p>
The thought made my blood run cold. “He wouldn’t p>
“Are you sure? Because from what you’ve told me, he’s desperate to be part of Noah’s life. And desperate men do desperate things p>
My phone buzzed. A message from Lucas: Just saw the news. Are you okay? Do you need anything? I’m here for you.
Then another from my assistant: The board is requesting an emergency meeting. They want to discuss the media situation and how it affects Monroe Global’s reputation.
Then one from my lawyer: We need to talk about custody arrangements. Damien’s legal team has already reached out.
I stared at the messages, feeling the walls closing in.
“I need to make a statement,” I said suddenly. “Control the narrative before it controls me p>
“Are you sure that’s wise? Anything you say right now”