Chapter 37
Aria POV
“Tall, dark hair with a scar on his cheek. He spoke to Noah briefly before the teacher noticed and intervened. He left immediately when questioned, said he’d mistaken Noah for his nephew p>
Marcus. It had to be Marcus.
“I’m on my way,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Don’t let Noah out of anyone’s sight. Not for a second. I’ll be there in ten minutes p>
I made it in eight, breaking every speed limit and running two yellow lights. When I burst into the preschool office, Noah was sitting in the director’s lap, eating a cookie and looking completely unbothered by the whole situation.
“Mama!” He launched himself at me, cookie crumbs flying. “You’re early p>
“I wanted to surprise you, baby.” I held him tight, breathing in his scent and checking him over for any sign of harm. “Did you have a good day p>
“Uh-huh! I painted a picture of you and me and—” He paused, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “And my daddy. The one with my eyes. Miss Sarah said I could take it home p>
My heart clenched. “That sounds beautiful, sweetheart. Why don’t you go get it while I talk to your teacher p>
After Noah ran off, the director showed me the security footage. The man was clearly visible—tall and muscular with dark hair and a scar that ran from his eyebrow to his cheek. Marcus Blackwood, no question.
He’d crouched down to Noah’s level, said something that made my son smile, then walked away when the teacher approached. The whole interaction lasted maybe thirty seconds, but it was thirty seconds too long.
“We’re implementing new security procedures immediately,” the director assured me. “No one gets past the front desk without proper authorization, and we’re adding a second teacher to all hallway transitions p>
“Thank you,” I managed, though my hands were shaking. “I appreciate you calling me right away p>
As I drove home with Noah chattering happily in the backseat about his day, my phone rang. Damien.
I almost didn’t answer. But given what had just happened, I couldn’t ignore him.
“Someone approached Noah at his preschool today,” I said without preamble. “Tall, dark hair, scar on his face. It was Marcus, wasn’t it p>
The silence on the other end was answer enough.
“Did he hurt him?” Damien’s voice was deadly quiet.
“No. The teacher intervened before anything could happen. But Damien, he got close enough to talk to our son. He knew exactly where to find him p>
“I’m increasing your security detail,” Damien said immediately. “Two guards minimum, both of you, twenty-four seven. And I’m getting a restraining order against Marcus filed today p>
“A restraining order won’t stop him if he’s really determined,” I said, checking my rearview mirror again even though I knew Damien’s security was three cars back. “We both know that p>
“Then I’ll stop him myself.” The promise in his voice was absolute. “Whatever it takes, Aria. He won’t get near Noah again p>
“How can you promise that?” I pulled into my building’s parking garage, my hands tight on the steering wheel. “You couldn’t even keep his existence secret from the press. How are you going to protect him from your own brother p>
“By doing what I should have done years ago,” Damien said. “By confronting Marcus directly and ending this once and for all p>
“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended. “You are not going after your brother alone. If something happened to you” I stopped myself, not wanting to finish that thought.
“If something happened to me, Noah would have one parent instead of two,” Damien finished quietly. “Is that what you’re worried about p>
“Among other things,” I admitted, pulling into my parking spot and sitting there with the engine running. “Look, I need to get Noah inside. We’ll talk about this later p>
“Aria, wait”
“Later, Damien.” I ended the call before he could argue.
Noah was unusually quiet as we rode the elevator up to our floor, and I wondered how much he’d picked up on from my end of the conversation.
“Mama?” He looked up at me with those ice-blue eyes that were so heartbreakingly familiar. “Is something wrong p>
“Everything’s fine, baby,” I lied, unlocking our apartment door. “Why don’t you go wash your hands for snack time p>
He nodded and scampered off, and I finally let myself breathe, leaning against the closed door and trying to process everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
My phone buzzed with a text from Lucas: I’m sorry about last night. Can we talk?
Before I could respond, another text came through from Damien: I meant what I said. About the divorce papers. About you still being my wife.
And then, as if the universe was determined to pile everything on at once, an unknown number: Cute kid. Same eyes as his daddy. I’m looking forward to getting to know him better. —M
Attached was a photo—Noah at the preschool today, smiling up at someone off-camera. Marcus had been close enough to take a picture, close enough to touch my son, and I’d had no idea.
I was staring at the photo, my blood running cold, when Noah came back into the living room.
“Mama, can we go to the park?” He held up his painted picture—three stick figures labeled MAMA, ME, and DADDY. “I want to show Daddy my picture p>
“Not today, sweetheart,” I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. “How about we build a blanket fort instead p>
“But I want to see Daddy.” Noah’s lower lip trembled. “You said he wanted to be my daddy. Was that a lie p>
“No, baby, it wasn’t a lie.” I crouched down to his level. “But sometimes grown-ups need to figure things out before they can spend time together. It’s complicated p>
“I don’t understand complicated,” Noah said, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I just want a daddy like my friends have p>
Before I could respond, there was a knock at my door. I checked the peephole, half-expecting to see Marcus standing there, but instead found Damien.
I opened the door without thinking. “What are you”
“I got Marcus’s text too,” Damien said, holding up his phone to show me an identical message. “And I’m not leaving you alone tonight. Not with him making threats p>
“You can’t just show up here whenever you want,” I started, but Noah had already spotted Damien through the open door.
“Daddy!” He launched himself forward, and Damien caught him automatically, his expression transforming from grim determination to shocked wonder.
“Hey, buddy,” Damien said softly, and his voice was rough with emotion. “Is it okay if I visit for a little while p>
“Mama said we have to figure out complicated first,” Noah informed him seriously. “But I made you a picture at school p>
He wriggled down and ran to get his painting, leaving Damien and me staring at each other in the hallway.
“He called me Daddy,” Damien said, and I realized with shock that his eyes were bright with unshed tears. “He’s never called me that before p>
“I know.” My own throat was tight. “He’s been asking about you. I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to handle this p>
“And have you? Figured it out?” Damien asked quietly.
Before I could answer, Noah came running back with his picture, holding it up proudly. “See? That’s you and Mama and me! We’re a family p>
Damien took the picture with hands that shook slightly, studying the three stick figures with an intensity that suggested he was memorizing every crayon stroke.
“It’s perfect,” he said finally, crouching down to Noah’s level. “Can I keep it p>
“Uh-huh!” Noah beamed. “You can put it in your office so you don’t forget about me when you’re at work p>
“I could never forget about you,” Damien said, and the absolute certainty in his voice made my heart ache. “Not for a single second p>
I watched them together—my son and his father, separated by three years of my fear and Damien’s mistakes, finally having the moment I’d both dreaded and hoped for. Noah was chattering about his day, showing Damien all his favorite toys, completely at ease in a way that suggested his heart had already accepted what my head was still trying to process.
This was real. This was happening. And I had no idea how to protect Noah from getting hurt if this all fell apart again.
“Mama, can Daddy stay for dinner?” Noah asked, looking between us hopefully. “Please p>
I met Damien’s eyes over our son’s head, saw the plea in them, the desperate hope that I would give him this chance.
“Okay,” I heard myself say. “But just for dinner. And then Daddy has to go home p>
“Can we have pizza?” Noah asked immediately.
“We can have pizza,” I agreed, pulling out my phone to order.
As Noah dragged Damien to the living room to show him his block tower, I stood in the kitchen and tried to process what I’d just agreed to. Damien in my home. Damien having dinner with our son. Damien being exactly what I’d told myself I would never let him be—a real presence in Noah’s life.
But watching them together through the doorway, seeing Noah’s joy and Damien’s careful gentleness, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. At least not yet.