Chapter 31
Damien pov
I sat in the car for a moment, my hands shaking against the steering wheel, my brother’s voice still echoing in my ears with all its pain and promise of destruction. Marcus was finally back after fifteen years in exile, and he’d been watching Noah. Building a file on my son. Planning something that would hurt worse than anything Father had ever done to him.
“Damien.” Aria’s voice cut through my spiral, sharp with worry as she walked quickly toward my car. “Did you find out anything? Did your lawyer kill the story p>
I got out of the car and looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since arriving. This was the woman I’d destroyed three years ago, the woman I’d thrown away like she was nothing, and now she was looking to me for help because she was out of options and I was the only person with the resources to protect our son from the monster I’d helped create by being my father’s son.
“My lawyer’s working on it,” I said, pocketing my phone with hands that still weren’t quite steady. “Where’s Noah p>
“Still inside.” She glanced at the building, her arms wrapped around herself like she was cold despite the warm afternoon. “I told them I was running late, that I needed to wait for you before we picked him up p>
“Thank you,” I said quietly, surprised that she’d trusted me enough to wait. “For trusting me with this p>
“I’m not trusting you.” Her voice was flat, honest in a way that hurt more than anger would have. “I’m just out of options, and you’re the only one with enough money and power to make this go away p>
Fair enough. I couldn’t argue with that assessment.
We walked to the entrance together, our footsteps falling into an unconscious rhythm The hallways inside were painted in bright, cheerful colors that seemed almost aggressive in their optimism. Children’s artwork covered every available wall space—crayon drawings of families and houses and dogs with too many legs. The whole place smelled like apple juice and crayons and that particular scent of childhood that I’d never experienced myself and had no idea how to navigate.
It was normal. Innocent. Everything I wanted for Noah and everything that my world threatened to destroy.
The teacher met us at Noah’s classroom door, her smile warm and professional as she looked between Aria and me with obvious curiosity. “Ms. Monroe, hello. And you must be” She trailed off, her eyes lingering on my face with the kind of recognition that meant she’d probably seen my picture in business magazines.
“A family friend,” Aria said quickly, her voice smooth and practiced. “He’s here to help with pickup today p>
“Of course.” The teacher’s smile didn’t falter, though I could see the questions in her eyes. “Noah’s just finishing his afternoon snack. He should be ready in just a moment p>
Through the classroom window, I could see him—my son, sitting at a small table with other children, eating apple slices from a paper plate and laughing at something his friend was saying. He looked so happy, so safe, so completely unaware that his world was about to change in ways he couldn’t possibly understand. His hair caught the light from the classroom windows the same way mine did, dark and thick, and when he smiled his whole face lit up with joy that reminded me painfully of Aria.
“I’ll get him,” Aria said, starting toward the door, but I caught her arm gently.
“Wait.” The word came out rougher than I intended. “Can I just” I gestured toward the window, unable to quite articulate what I was asking for. “Can I just watch him for a minute p>
She studied my face for a long moment, her expression unreadable, and then she nodded once. “One minute p>
I stood at the window and watched Noah interact with his classmates, cataloging every small detail like I could make up for three years of absence by memorizing this single moment. The way he carefully shared his crackers with the little girl next to him. The way he helped a smaller child reach a toy on a high shelf. The way his smile transformed his entire face into something bright and unguarded. He had Aria’s kindness woven into every gesture, her generosity in the way he moved through the world. Despite having my blood running through his veins, he was nothing like me, and I’d never been more grateful for anything in my entire life.
“He’s a good kid,” Aria said softly beside me, her voice carrying something that might have been pride or might have been defensiveness.
“Because of you.” I didn’t look away from Noah, couldn’t tear my eyes away from this small person who carried half my DNA and none of my damage. “You raised him right p>
“I did my best.” She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “Alone p>
The word landed sending ripples of guilt through my chest. “I know p>
“Do you?” She turned to face me, her eyes hard and bright with unshed tears. “Do you really understand what that word means? Three years of bedtimes and nightmares and fevers in the middle of the night? Three years of first words and skinned knees and questions about his father that I couldn’t answer? Three years of doing everything by myself because you told me to get rid of him p>
“No,” I admitted, finally dragging my eyes away from Noah to meet hers. “I don’t understand. I can’t. I wasn’t there, and that’s entirely my fault. But I want to learn, if you’ll let me. I want to try p>
She looked away, blinking rapidly against tears she wouldn’t let fall. “Your minute’s up p>
She went inside, and I watched through the window as Noah’s entire face transformed when he saw her. He abandoned his snack and ran straight into her arms with the kind of unconscious trust that children have before the world teaches them to be careful. She lifted him easily, kissed his forehead, whispered something that made him giggle and wrap his arms around her neck. They looked complete together, like a perfect unit that didn’t have any space for anyone else, especially not for the man who’d told her to abort the child she now held so carefully.
But then Noah pointed toward the window, toward me, and said something to Aria that I couldn’t hear through the glass. She hesitated, her expression flickering between a dozen emotions I couldn’t read, and then she nodded slowly. Noah’s face lit up like someone had turned on a light inside him, and he waved at me through the window—big, enthusiastic, completely innocent of everything his existence meant.
I waved back, my throat suddenly too tight to swallow.
They came out together, Noah holding Aria’s hand and bouncing with the kind of boundless energy that only three-year-olds seemed to possess. His eyes were bright with excitement as he looked up at me.
“Hi, Damien!” He grinned, showing a gap where one of his baby teeth had fallen out. “Did you come to see me p>
“I did.” I knelt down so I was at his eye level, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises that matched my own. “Your mom and I thought we’d pick you up together today p>
“Like a family?” His eyes went wide with a hope so pure it physically hurt to witness.
My chest cracked open, every defense I’d built over thirty-one years of being a Blackwood shattering in the face of his simple question. “Something like that, buddy p>
Aria’s hand tightened on Noah’s shoulder, her fingers pressing into his small frame with a protectiveness I completely understood. “Let’s go, baby. We need to get home p>
“Can Damien come?” Noah looked between us with those hopeful eyes that saw possibilities his mother and I both knew were impossible. “Please, Mama? Please p>
“Not today, sweetheart.” She avoided my gaze, her voice gentle but firm in a way that brooked no argument. “Maybe another time p>
“But Mama” Noah started to protest, his lower lip jutting out.
“Noah.” The single word carried the weight of maternal authority that every child recognized instinctively. “Not today p>
His face fell, all that bright hope draining away as quickly as it had appeared. He nodded sadly, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Okay, Mama p>
We walked to the parking lot together in uncomfortable silence broken only by Noah’s chatter about his day, his voice bright and oblivious to the tension crackling between the adults flanking him. I carried his backpack, which was decorated with dinosaurs and weighed almost nothing, and tried not to think about all the other backpacks I’d never carried, all the other pickups I’d missed.
At Aria’s car—she buckled Noah into his car seat with practiced efficiency, checking the straps twice and kissing his forehead before closing the door. I stood back and watched, feeling like an intruder in a routine that had nothing to do with me.
“Damien?” Noah called through the closed door, his voice muffled but clear. “Will I see you again p>
I looked at Aria, waiting for her permission, and after a long moment she gave the tiniest nod that might have been agreement or might have been resignation.
“Yes,” I told him, meaning it with everything I had. “I promise p>
“Okay!” He settled back in his seat happily, his earlier disappointment forgotten. “Bye, Damien p>
Aria closed the door with more force than necessary and turned to face me, her eyes hard as flint. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep p>
“I intend to keep it.” I stepped closer, close enough to see the exhaustion etched in the lines around her eyes. “Aria, about the press situation p>