Chapter 29
Aria pov
“Like you,” a small smile crossed Damien’s face. “You were always asking questions p>
“Don’t,” I stepped back. “Don’t act like you know me. You never bothered to try p>
“I know,” his smile faded immediately. “That’s my biggest regret. I had you in my life and I wasted it. I was too cold, too damaged, too”
“Stop making excuses,” I cut him off. “Take responsibility p>
“You’re right.” He straightened, squaring his shoulders. “I was a coward. I pushed you away because I was scared—of feeling, of caring, of becoming my father p>
“Your father?” I frowned, caught off guard.
“Richard Blackwood,” his voice turned bitter. “A man who believed love was weakness, who beat emotions out of me until I forgot how to feel anything at all p>
“That’s not an excuse,” I said quietly.
“I’m not using it as one.” He looked at me directly. “I’m explaining why I was so broken, but breaking doesn’t excuse the damage I caused. It just explains it p>
I studied his face, searching for the lie, the manipulation. Instead, I saw sincerity, regret, and something that looked like genuine change.
But how much of it was real, and how much was carefully constructed performance?
The silence stretched between us. Outside my office window, the city hummed with afternoon traffic. I could hear the faint buzz of fluorescent lights overhead, the distant ping of the elevator down the hall.
Damien stood there, waiting for me to say something. His cologne reached me—something expensive and woody that I recognized from three years ago. It made my stomach twist with unwanted memories.
“Why now?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He ran a hand through his dark hair, messing up the perfect style. “I’ve been trying to find you for years, Aria. Every investigator came back empty, it was like you disappeared p>
“That was the point p>
“I know.” He took a careful step closer, then stopped when I tensed. “I know you had every reason to vanish. To never want to see me again p>
My fingers curled into fists at my sides. “You told me to get rid of my baby. Your baby. Do you remember what you said p>
His face crumpled. “I remember every word. Every horrible, unforgivable word p>
“Good. You should remember p>
He nodded, his jaw tight. I watched his throat work as he swallowed hard. For a man who commanded boardrooms and made CEOs nervous, he looked utterly lost standing in my office.
“I believed them,” he said quietly. “Your father, Vivian—they fed me lies and I swallowed every one. But that’s not an excuse. I should have trusted you. I should have known you p>
“You couldn’t know me. You never tried.” I moved behind my desk, needing the solid wood between us. “
“I was afraid.” The admission seemed to cost him something.
“Of what? Me?” I almost laughed. “I was nobody, what could I possibly do to the great Damien Blackwood p>
“Make me feel something.” His ice-blue eyes locked onto mine. “You made me feel things I’d spent years burying. Every time you smiled at me, even when I didn’t deserve it, all the cute notes you left on my desk p>
“You kept them?” The words escaped before I could stop them.
Something flickered across his face. “Every single one. They’re in my desk drawer at home. ’Have a good day.’ ’Don’t work too late.’ ’Remember to eat.’” His voice cracked slightly. “No one had cared if I ate since my mother died when I was seven p>
I pressed my lips together, refusing to let his pain soften me. But my traitorous heart ached anyway.
“That doesn’t change what you did p>
“No,” he agreed. “Nothing changes what I did. But Aria, I need you to understand—I didn’t just lose you that day, I lost myself too p>
The afternoon sun slanted through the windows, casting long shadows across the office floor. I could see dust motes dancing in the light between us—a vast, golden space that felt impossible to cross.
“I spent three years building myself back up,” I said. “Three years learning to be strong without you. To not need anyone p>
“I know.” His voice was rough. “And you’re magnificent. You always were, but I was too blind and broken to see it p>
“I’ll think about it,” I said finally.
“That’s all I’m asking.” He moved toward the door slowly, as if leaving physically hurt him. “Thank you, Aria. For listening, for considering it, for He gestured helplessly. “For not having security throw me out p>
“The day’s not over yet,” I managed a thin smile.
He almost laughed, a sound caught somewhere between hope and despair, then left quietly.
I stood alone in my office, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat.
What was I doing? Was I actually considering this?
My phone buzzed with a text from Olivia: How’d the meeting go?
I typed back: He cried when he saw Noah’s picture.
Her response came quickly: Good. Let him suffer.
But watching him suffer hadn’t felt as good as I’d imagined. It had just felt… sad.
I walked to the window and looked down at the street below. I watched Damien exit the building, then he suddenly stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at my office.
He couldn’t see me through the tinted glass, but he stood there for a long moment anyway, as if hoping I might be watching.
Then he walked away.
I watched until he disappeared around the corner, something heavy settling in my chest.
My phone buzzed again, this time with an email from Damien.
Subject: For Noah
I’ve set up a trust fund in Noah’s name. $50 million. Untouchable by anyone but him when he turns eighteen. Not to buy your forgiveness. Not to replace what I owe. Just because he’s my son and he deserves it. No strings attached. The papers will arrive tomorrow. —D
I stared at the email, reading it three times.
Fifty million dollars for a son he’d told me to abort.
I should have been angry, should have seen it as manipulation or a bribe. But something about the way he’d written it—simple, direct, with no expectations—made it feel different.
Like he actually understood that money couldn’t fix this, that the only thing that might was time, consistency, and proof through actions.
I saved the email and checked the time. I had one hour before Noah got out of preschool, one hour to decide what to tell him. Nothing? Everything? Something in between?
As I drove to the school, my phone rang with an unknown number. I almost didn’t answer, but something made me pick up.
“Ms. Monroe?” A woman’s voice, professional and cold. “This is Patricia Winters from the Ravenwood Gazette. I’m calling about a story we’re planning to run tomorrow, and I wanted to give you a chance to comment p>
My stomach dropped. “What story p>
“About you hiding Damien Blackwood’s son for three years.” Papers rustled in the background. “We have photos of the child and confirmation from multiple sources. This is your opportunity to provide your side before publication p>
The world tilted sideways.
No. No, no, no.
“Who gave you this information?” My voice came out sharp and panicked.
“I can’t reveal my sources,” she sounded almost apologetic. “But Ms. Monroe, this story is running with or without your comment. I’m just trying to be fair p>
“Fair?” I pulled over because my hands were shaking too hard to drive safely. “There’s nothing fair about this. That’s my child you’re talking about—he’s three years old p>
“I understand your concern,” Patricia’s voice softened slightly. “But this is news. The public has a right to know about Damien Blackwood’s secret heir p>
“The public has no right to my son.” I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles went white. “Please, don’t do this. He’s just a baby p>
“I’m sorry, Ms. Monroe,” she actually sounded sorry. “The story runs tomorrow at six AM. If you’d like to provide a statement”
I hung up and stared at my phone, my mind racing.
Then I called Damien.
He answered on the first ring. “Aria p>
“Someone leaked Noah’s existence to the press,” my voice shook despite my best efforts. “They’re running a story tomorrow morning p>
Silence, heavy and tense. Then: “Who p>
“I don’t know,” I closed my eyes. “But Damien, they have photos. They know everything p>
“I’ll handle it.” His voice turned cold and dangerous in a way that should have frightened me but somehow didn’t. “I’ll buy the newspaper if I have to, kill the story, protect Noah p>
“Can you?” Hope flickered in my chest. “Can you actually stop this p>
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he paused. “Where are you right now p>
“Sitting in my car, about to pick up Noah from school p>
“Don’t,” his voice was urgent. “If they have photos, they might have people watching the school. Let me send security to arrange a discreet pickup p>
“I’m not letting strangers take my son”
“Then let me come with you,” he was already moving—I heard car doors slamming, an engine starting.
I shouldn’t trust him, shouldn’t let him help. But my son’s safety mattered more than my pride.
He was already moving—I heard car doors slamming, an engine starting.
I shouldn’t trust him, shouldn’t let him help. But my son’s safety mattered more than my pride.
“Okay, you can come p>
On hearing that, he exhaled. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he paused again. “Aria? We’re going to protect him. Together. I promise p>
For the first time in three years, I wanted to believe Damien Blackwood’s promise.
Because now it wasn’t just about us anymore—it was about Noah.
And I’d do anything, even trust the man who destroyed me, to keep my son safe.