Chapter 32
“Did you kill the story?” Her voice cut through my explanation before I could start. “Yes or no p>
“I’m working on it,” I said, pulling out my phone to show her Thompson’s texts. “My lawyer is handling”
“That’s not good enough.” She grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in with surprising strength. “Damien, if Noah’s face ends up in the newspapers, if his life gets destroyed because you’re his father”
“It won’t.” I covered her hand with mine, feeling the tremor in her fingers that belied her harsh tone. “I swear to you, Aria. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect him. Buy every newspaper. Threaten every editor. Whatever it takes p>
She pulled away from my touch like I’d burned her. “You’ve sworn a lot of things over the years. Your track record isn’t exactly inspiring confidence p>
“I know,” I admitted, pocketing my phone. “But this is different. This is Noah. This is our son. I won’t fail him again p>
“Again?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it, just bitterness and old pain. “You failed him before he was even born, Damien. You failed him when you told me to abort him. You failed him every single day for three years. How can I possibly trust you now p>
“You can’t,” I said simply, because it was the truth and she deserved truth from me even if it was three years too late. “But maybe, over time, if I prove myself, I can earn that trust back. Piece by piece p>
“Time.” She shook her head, her hair falling across her face. “You want me to give you time with my son. The child you told me to kill p>
Every word was a knife sliding between my ribs. “Yes,” I said, not flinching away from the pain. “I want time. I want a chance. I want” I stopped, forced myself to be completely honest in a way I’d never been before. “I want to be his father. Even though I don’t deserve it. Even though I have no right to ask p>
“Finally.” She turned toward her car, her movements sharp and jerky. “Something we agree on p>
“Aria, wait” I reached for her hand without thinking.
She spun back so fast I almost stepped back. “Don’t touch me p>
I dropped her hand immediately, holding both hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just” I ran my hand through my hair, a nervous gesture I’d never been able to break. “Can we talk? Really talk? About how this could work? About what comes next p>
“There’s nothing to work out,” she said, opening her car door. “You wanted to know if you had a son. Now you know. That’s all you’re getting from me p>
“That’s not fair to Noah.” The words came out before I could stop them, and I watched her face transform from tired resignation to pure rage in the space of a heartbeat.
“Fair?” Her voice rose, drawing looks from other parents in the parking lot. “You want to talk to me about what’s fair? Fine. Let’s talk about fair p>
She stepped closer and I held my ground, knowing I deserved whatever was coming.
“Is it fair that I was young and pregnant?” Her finger jabbed into my chest with each word. “Is it fair that I gave birth alone in a hospital where I didn’t know anyone? Is it fair that Noah’s first three years are memories you’ll never have? Is it fair that I’ve had to answer his questions about his father with lies because the truth would break his heart p>
“No.” Each word from her cut deeper than the last, and I let them, because this was the least of what I deserved. “None of it is fair p>
“Damn right it’s not.” Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously, refusing to let them fall. “And now you waltz back in like some kind of white knight and want to play daddy? No. Absolutely not. You don’t get that. You don’t get to miss everything hard and then show up for the good parts p>
“I don’t want just the good parts,” I said, keeping my voice steady even though everything inside me was shaking. “I want all of it. The tantrums. The sleepless nights. The hard parts. The parts where he hates me or you hate me or both of you hate me. I want to be there p>
“Why?” She wiped her eyes angrily, smearing tears across her cheeks. “Why now? What changed?
“I did change,” I said, and it was the most honest I’d been in years. “I’m not the same man who hurt you three years ago. I’ve spent a few years in therapy, Aria facing what I did and why I did it trying to understand why I was so broken that I destroyed the best thing that ever happened to me p>
“Therapy?” She almost laughed, the sound harsh and disbelieving. “You think therapy fixes what you did to me? What you said p>
“No.” I shook my head slowly. “Nothing fixes what I did. But therapy helped me understand why I did it. Why I was so terrified of being like my father that I became him anyway. Why I destroyed you rather than risk loving you p>
“I wasn’t in your life to love,” she said, turning away. “You made sure of that when you threw me out p>
“I know.” I moved to face her again, needing her to see my face when I said this. “And I regret it every single day. Every hour. Every moment I think about what I missed, who I hurt, who I became” My voice cracked, and I didn’t try to hide it. “Every time I think about you giving birth alone, about Noah taking his first steps without me there, about three years of memories I’ll never have”
Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying, everything that couldn’t be unsaid.
“I need to go.” She moved toward her car. “Noah’s waiting p>
“Can I see him again?” I asked quietly, hating how desperate I sounded. “Supervised. Wherever you want. Whatever rules you set. I’ll follow any conditions you give me p>
She paused, her hand on the car door, her back to me. “I’ll think about it p>
“Thank you.” I stepped back, giving her space. “And Aria? The trust fund I mentioned before. It’s real. Fifty million dollars for Noah. No strings attached. Just”
“I don’t want your money.” She got in the car, her movements sharp.
“It’s not for you,” I said, catching the door before she could close it. “It’s for Noah. For college. For his future. For whatever he needs or wants. So he has choices I never had p>
She stared at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “Fifty million dollars won’t make you his father p>
“I know that.” I released the door, letting my hand fall to my side. “But it might give him opportunities, choices about his own life that don’t depend on me or you or any of the damage we’ve done p>
She considered this, her fingers drumming against the steering wheel. Then she nodded once, sharp and decisive. “I’ll look at the paperwork. Have your lawyer send it over p>
“That’s all I ask.” I stepped back, watched her drive away.
Noah waved through the back window, his small hand pressed against the glass, and I waved back until they disappeared around the corner and I was left standing alone in the parking lot.
My phone buzzed before I’d even made it back to my car. Thompson, my lawyer, with his usual perfect timing.
“The story’s dead,” he said without preamble when I answered. “Bought the exclusive rights for five million dollars, plus another two million in legal fees to ensure it stays dead p>
“Good.” I exhaled, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “Make absolutely sure it stays dead p>
“Already handled, sir.” He paused, and I could hear the hesitation in his voice that meant he had bad news. “But there’s something else you need to know. About the source of the leak p>
My jaw clenched. “Who was it p>
“Vivian Monroe.” His voice was grim in a way that meant this was worse than I’d thought. “Aria’s sister. She’s been shopping the story to multiple outlets for the past week. We’ve dealt with this particular publication, but there are at least three others that received the same information p>
Vivian. Of course it was Vivian. Aria’s sister had always been jealous, vindictive, willing to destroy her own family if it meant getting what she wanted.
“Handle them all,” I said, walking to my car. “I don’t care what it costs. Every outlet. Every journalist. Every blog. Buy them off or threaten them with legal action. Whatever works p>
“Already in progress, sir.” More papers rustled on his end. “But there’s one more thing, and this is the part that concerns me more. Marcus Blackwood has been making inquiries about Noah p>
My blood turned to ice, every muscle in my body going rigid. “What kind of inquiries p>
“Background checks. Birth certificates. Medical records. School enrollment.” Thompson’s concern bled through his usually professional tone. “He’s building a comprehensive file, sir. The kind of file you build when you’re planning something significant p>
“On a three-year-old child?” Rage filled my chest, hot and consuming. “He’s targeting a toddler p>
“He’s targeting your heir,” Thompson corrected quietly. “Your son and your vulnerability. If Marcus is building this kind of dossier, it means he’s planning something, and given his history p>
“Increase security immediately,” I interrupted, getting in my car. “On Noah. On Aria. Twenty-four seven protection. I want our best team on them. Eyes on them every second of every day p>
“Sir, they won’t like that,” Thompson warned. “Aria Monroe strikes me as someone who values her privacy and independence. She’s not going to appreciate armed guards following her around p>
“I don’t care if she likes it or not.” I started the engine, my hands still shaking with rage and fear. “My son’s safety comes first. If she hates me for it, that’s fine. She can hate me while she’s alive and safe. But she will be protected whether she wants it or not p>
“Understood, sir.” He paused. “I’ll have the team in place within the hour p>
“Make it thirty minutes,” I said, and hung up before he could argue.