Chapter 28
Aria POV
He was already there when I arrived, leaning against the wall outside my office building in his dark suit with his hands in his pockets, looking like he’d been waiting for hours.
It was 1:30 PM. Our meeting wasn’t until two.
I considered turning around, getting back in my car and calling this whole thing off. But I’d promised him one conversation—one chance to say his piece. Then I could walk away with a clear conscience.
I approached slowly, my heels clicking against the sidewalk as he looked up.
“You’re early,” I said.
“I couldn’t wait.” He straightened, his expression hopeful. “Thank you for agreeing to this p>
“Don’t thank me yet.” I walked past him toward the entrance, not bothering to slow my pace. “You might not like what I have to say p>
He followed without a word, and we walked through the lobby in silence while other employees glanced at us and whispered, though I ignored them all.
The elevator ride to the twentieth floor felt endless, with Damien standing on the opposite side of the car. That was new.
My office was at the end of the hall with glass walls, modern furniture, and a view of the city that reminded me every day how far I’d come.
“Nice office,” Damien said, looking around.
“Better than a parking garage or a preschool playground, which is where you’ve been ambushing me lately.” I set my bag down with more force than necessary.
“I wasn’t” He stopped, then sighed heavily. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how else to see you p>
“So you stalked me?” I crossed my arms, keeping the desk between us.
“I was desperate.” He moved closer, his voice dropping. “Aria, please. Can we sit down p>
“No.” I stayed firmly behind my desk, using it as a barrier. “You wanted to talk, so talk p>
He ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling. “I don’t know where to start p>
“Start with the truth.” My voice came out harder than I’d intended. “Why are you really here? What do you want from me p>
“I want He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to be part of my son’s life p>
“Our son has a life—a good life without you.” I leaned forward, letting him see the steel in my eyes.
“I know.” He stepped closer to the desk, his expression pained. “I know he’s been fine. Better than fine. You’ve done an amazing job raising him alone p>
“Don’t patronize me.” I stood up abruptly, my chair rolling back. “I didn’t raise him alone by choice p>
“I know that too.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I know what I did, what I said, how I He closed his eyes as if the memory physically hurt him. “How I destroyed everything p>
“Then why are we having this conversation?” I walked around the desk, closing the distance between us. “You know what you did. You know you don’t deserve forgiveness. So why waste my time p>
“Because I’ve changed.” He looked at me directly, his gaze unwavering. “I’m not the same man who”
“Stop.” I held up a hand, cutting him off. “Every cheater says that. Every liar, every man who realizes too late what he lost p>
“I’m not lying.” He moved closer, his desperation starting to show. “Aria, I’ve spent three years trying to find you. Three years realizing what I threw away, what I His voice cracked slightly. “What I destroyed with my own hands p>
“Good.” The word came out cold and sharp. “You should suffer like I suffered p>
“I do,” he whispered. “Every single day p>
“Not enough.” I stepped back, needing the space. “You want to know what real suffering is? Try being pregnant and homeless. Try working three jobs while your body falls apart. Try giving birth alone because you have nobody p>
“Aria”
“Try watching your son take his first steps without his father,” I continued, my voice rising with each word. “Try explaining to a three-year-old why he doesn’t have a daddy when all his friends do. Try being both parents and knowing you’ll never be enough p>
Silence filled the office, heavy and suffocating. Damien’s hands shook at his sides.
“I would give anything to take it back,” he said finally. “Anything. My company, my money, my life—all of it p>
“I don’t want your money.” I walked back to my desk, needing something solid to hold onto. “I have my own now p>
“I know,” he said, following me closely. “Monroe Global is impressive. You built something incredible from nothing p>
“Don’t change the subject.” I sat down, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “You wanted to explain, so explain. Why should I let you anywhere near my son after what you did p>
He pulled up a chair and sat across from me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees in a posture that suggested both vulnerability and exhaustion.
“After you left, I told myself I felt nothing,” he began slowly. “That you were just a contract, a business arrangement that ended. I went back to work and buried myself in deals and meetings p>
“Sounds perfect for you p>
“It wasn’t.” He looked at his hands as if they belonged to someone else. “I couldn’t stop seeing your face from that last day, the way you looked at me when I He swallowed hard. “When I told you to get rid of our baby p>
“Noah,” I corrected sharply. “His name is Noah p>
“Noah,” he repeated softly, as if testing the weight of the name. “I dream about him, about what I missed. First words, steps, birthdays—everything p>
“Those are your consequences.” I straightened the papers on my desk with unnecessary precision. “Live with them p>
“I am,” he said, looking up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “But Aria, he deserves better than my mistakes. He deserves a father who p>
“He deserves a father who wanted him from the beginning,” I cut him off, my voice sharp as glass. “Not one who showed up three years late because his guilt got too heavy p>
“You’re right,” he nodded, accepting the blow. “I don’t deserve him. I don’t deserve you. But maybe, if you gave me a chance, I could become someone who does p>
I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in the quiet office. “You want me to give you a chance? After everything p>
“Yes.” His voice was steady, determined.
“Why would I do that?” I stood up, suddenly unable to sit still. “Give me one good reason p>
“Because Noah has my eyes,” he said, standing as well. “And someday he’s going to ask questions about who his father is and why I’m not around. You’ll have to answer him p>
“I’ve already planned my answers.” I crossed my arms defensively.
“With lies?” He stepped closer, his voice challenging. “You’re going to lie to our son about why his father isn’t in his life p>
“I’m going to tell him the truth,” my voice rose again. “That his father didn’t want him, that he p>
“That’s not the whole truth.” Damien closed the distance between us in two strides. “The whole truth is that I was manipulated, that your family fed me lies about you, that I was too broken and stupid to see it p>
“Oh, so now you’re the victim?” I pushed past him, needing air. “That’s rich p>
“I’m not saying I’m a victim,” he turned to face me, his jaw tight. “I’m saying I was wrong—completely, unforgivably wrong. But I want to make it right p>
“You can’t.” I grabbed my bag, ready to end this. “Some things can’t be fixed p>
“Then let me try anyway.” His desperation was clear now, bleeding through every word. “Please, Aria. One chance. Let me be part of his life. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give—supervised visits, phone calls, just His voice broke. “Just don’t keep me from my son p>
I stared at him, watching this powerful CEO, this man who’d once crushed me without a second thought, now begging for scraps of time with a child he’d rejected.
Part of me wanted to say yes, to believe in second chances, to let Noah have a father. But the other part—the part that remembered his words in that office three years ago, the cruelty in his eyes—that part wanted to protect my son from ever feeling that same rejection.
“I need to think about it.” I moved toward the door.
“Aria, wait”
“I said I need to think.” I opened the door firmly. “Now leave p>
“Can I at least He pulled out his phone with trembling hands. “Can I see pictures of him? Of Noah? Please p>
I hesitated, my finger hovering over my phone. Then I pulled it out, scrolled through my photos, and found one from last week—Noah covered in ice cream, grinning at the camera with pure, uncomplicated joy.
I turned the screen toward Damien.
He stared at the photo and his whole body went still, as if someone had frozen him in place. Then his shoulders started shaking.
He was crying—actually crying. Damien Blackwood, the Ice King, crying in my office.
“He’s perfect,” he whispered. “He’s absolutely perfect p>
Something in my chest cracked, just a little.
“He is,” I agreed quietly.
“What’s he like?” Damien wiped his eyes hastily, as if embarrassed by the tears. “His personality, his favorite things p>
“Why should I tell you?” I pulled my phone back protectively.
“Because I’m his father,” he looked at me with raw honesty. “And no matter how much you hate me, that won’t change p>
He was right, and I hated that he was right.
“He likes dinosaurs,” the words came out before I could stop them. “And building blocks. He asks a million questions about everything p>