Chapter 42
Damien POV
I woke to the sound of laughter—high-pitched, delighted, completely unfamiliar in my penthouse. For a moment, I lay still, disoriented, before memory crashed back.
Aria. Noah. The kiss that had nearly destroyed my sanity before my son’s voice interrupted.
I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. 7:43 AM. I’d barely slept three hours, my body still wound tight with frustrated desire and the lingering taste of Aria on my lips.
The laughter came again, followed by Aria’s voice. “Noah, baby, we need to be quiet. Damien might still be sleeping p>
“But Mama, I’m hungry!” Noah’s voice carried down the hallway. “Can we make pancakes? You said this kitchen was really big p>
I was out of bed and pulling on clothes before I could think better of it. Sweatpants and a t-shirt—casual, non-threatening. The kind of father who made breakfast with his family.
Except we weren’t a family. Not really. We were three people playing house while a psychopath planned our destruction.
I found them in the kitchen. Aria had pulled her long hair into a messy bun, still wearing that damn t-shirt from last night that showed too much leg and made my hands itch to touch her again. Noah sat on the marble counter in his dinosaur pajamas, swinging his legs and chattering about something.
They both looked up when I entered. Noah’s face lit up immediately.
“Damien!” He bounced excitedly. “Mama says you might have pancake stuff. Do you? Do you have chocolate chips p>
The hope in his voice did something to my chest. “I think the housekeeper keeps the kitchen stocked,” I said, moving toward them. “Let’s check p>
Aria’s eyes met mine over Noah’s head. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension—everything we’d done last night, everything we’d almost done. Her cheeks flushed pink, and she looked away quickly.
“We don’t want to impose,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “I can order something delivered p>
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I opened the refrigerator, genuinely unsure what I’d find. my housekeeper, did the shopping, and I rarely ate at home. “You’re staying here. The least I can do is feed you p>
“Staying here?” Aria’s tone sharpened. “We’re not staying here, Damien. Last night was temporary. As soon as Marcus is dealt with”
“Mama, look!” Noah interrupted, pointing at the contents of the fridge. “He has eggs! And milk! We can totally make pancakes p>
I pulled out the ingredients, setting them on the counter. “Have you ever made pancakes, Noah p>
His eyes went wide. “Mama doesn’t let me help much. She says I make too much mess p>
“Because you dump the entire bag of flour,” Aria said, but her voice was fond. “Remember London? We had flour on the ceiling p>
“That was one time!” Noah protested, grinning.
I watched them together—the easy affection, the shared memories I wasn’t part of. Three years of inside jokes and experiences that didn’t include me. The loss of it hit me.
“Well, I don’t mind mess,” I heard myself say. “Want to help me p>
“Really?” Noah looked at his mother for permission.
Aria hesitated, her eyes searching mine. What was she looking for? Proof I’d hurt him? Evidence I’d fail at this too?
“Please, Mama?” Noah clasped his hands together. “I’ll be really careful. I promise p>
She sighed, but I saw the softness in her expression. “Okay. But listen to Damien, and no dumping entire bags of anything p>
“Yes!” Noah pumped his fist in the air.
For the next thirty minutes, I discovered that making pancakes with a three-year-old was chaos. Noah wanted to crack the eggs himself—which resulted in shell fragments I had to fish out. He insisted on stirring, which sent flour puffing into the air. He wanted to pour the batter on the griddle, which I allowed under my careful supervision, his small hands wrapped under mine on the ladle.
“Look, Mama!” he called out each time. “I’m making pancakes p>
Aria sat at the kitchen island, watching us with an unreadable expression. Several times I caught her staring, something complicated flickering across her face before she looked away.
“These are going to be the best pancakes ever,” Noah declared, watching the batter bubble on the griddle. “Because I made them with Damien p>
The casual way he said my name, the pride in his voice—it destroyed me and rebuilt me simultaneously.
“They’re definitely going to be the best,” I agreed, flipping one over to reveal a slightly misshapen but reasonably golden pancake. “See? Perfect p>
“It looks like a dinosaur!” Noah exclaimed. “Can we make them all dinosaur-shaped p>
“We can try.” I let him help me pour the next one, guiding his hands to create something vaguely resembling a stegosaurus.
When we finally sat down to eat—Noah between us at the dining table—he chattered non-stop about everything and nothing. His favorite color (blue, like his eyes). His favorite toy (a stuffed lion named Roary). His friend from daycare who could already write his whole name.
I absorbed every detail like a man dying of thirst. This was my son. My child. And I’d missed so much.
“Damien makes good pancakes,” Noah announced, his mouth full. “Almost as good as Mama’s p>
“Almost?” I raised an eyebrow at him, teasing.
He grinned, showing teeth covered in partially chewed pancake. “Mama’s are still the best. But yours are really, really good p>
“I’ll accept second place,” I said, catching Aria’s eye across the table.
She was smiling—actually smiling—and it transformed her face. For a moment, she looked like the girl I’d married. Before I’d destroyed her. Then her phone buzzed, and the moment shattered.
She pulled it out, and I watched all the color drain from her face.
“What?” I was on my feet immediately. “What is it p>
She turned the screen toward me, her hand shaking.
It was a news alert. The headline made my blood run cold:
BREAKING: CEO Aria Monroe’s Secret Love Child Exposed – Blackwood Heir Hidden for Years
Below it, photos. Noah at the park. Noah holding Aria’s hand outside her office building. Noah and me together at my penthouse building the night of the break-in.
Someone had been watching. Someone had been taking pictures.
And now the whole world knew about our son.
“Mama?” Noah’s voice was small, uncertain. He’d picked up on the sudden tension. “What’s wrong p>
Aria’s hands clenched around her phone. When she looked at me, her eyes were blazing with something between fear and fury.
“This is your fault,” she said, her voice low and deadly. “Your enemies did this. Your family. Your”
“I’ll fix this.” I was already pulling out my own phone. “I’ll make a statement, I’ll”
“A statement?” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Damien, they have pictures of him. Our son’s face is all over the internet. Do you understand what that means? Every enemy you’ve ever made, every business rival, everyone who wants to hurt you—they all know about Noah now p>
The truth of it hit me like a sledgehammer. Marcus would see this. Every vulture circling Blackwood Enterprises would see this. The board members who’d been questioning my leadership would see this.
And they’d all see my son as a weakness to exploit.
“We need to get him somewhere safe,” I said, my mind already racing through options. “The penthouse has security, but if they want to”
“If they want to what?” Aria’s voice cracked. “Kidnap him? Use him as leverage? This is exactly what I was afraid of, Damien. This is why I stayed away. Why I built my life where you couldn’t touch us p>
“Mama, you’re scaring me.” Noah’s eyes were wide, filling with tears. “Why are you yelling p>
Aria immediately pulled him into her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. Mama’s not mad at you. Everything’s okay p>
But everything wasn’t okay and we both knew it.
My phone started ringing. Patricia, my lawyer. Then David from PR. Then my assistant. Within seconds, it was buzzing non-stop with calls and messages.
Aria’s phone was doing the same.
“We need a plan,” I said, fighting to keep my voice calm for Noah’s sake. “We need to control this narrative before”
The elevator chimed.
We all froze.
No one should be able to access my private floor without clearance. The security system should have.
The doors opened, and Marcus Blackwood stepped out, a cold smile on his scarred face.
“Good morning, brother,” he said pleasantly, his eyes moving from me to Aria to Noah. “I see the family secret is out. How unfortunate p>
I moved instantly, putting myself between Marcus and my family. “Get out. Now p>
“Oh, I don’t think so.” He pulled out his phone, showing us the screen. “You see, I’ve just received a very interesting call from our board of directors. They’re quite concerned about this revelation. A secret child? Hidden for years? They’re questioning your judgment, Dami, your fitness to lead p>
“I don’t care what the board thinks p>
“You should.” Marcus’s smile widened. “Because they’ve called an emergency meeting. This afternoon. And they’re going to vote on whether you should remain CEO p>
The floor seemed to tilt beneath me. “You orchestrated this p>
“Did I?” He shrugged. “Does it matter? The damage is done. Your son’s face is everywhere. Your ex-wife’s company is trending on every business network. And the board is ready to remove you p>
“Get out of my home,” I said, my voice deadly quiet. “Before I throw you out myself p>