The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 131

Chapter 131: Chapter 131:Damien Words

Aria pov 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

His voice was gentle. "You’re supposed to remember who you are. The woman who built an empire to provide for her son. Who faced down enemies with grace and strategy instead of cruelty. Who taught me that revenge isn’t the same as justice. That woman , He caught my hand. That woman is better than Vivian. Better than stooping to her level."

"You’re one to talk about stooping to levels," I said bitterly. "You destroyed your own brother."

The words made Damien flinch.

"You’re right," he said quietly. "I did. And it’s one of my deepest regrets. Marcus and I" He stopped. "We could have been family. Could have supported each other through our father’s abuse. Instead, I chose to survive. And now Marcus is so twisted by hatred that he’s trying to destroy everything I love. That’s what revenge creates, Aria. More revenge. An endless cycle."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to defend my actions. But deep down, I knew he was right. "She deserves to suffer," I whispered.

"Maybe." He pulled me close. "But you don’t deserve to become someone who takes pleasure in causing that suffering. That’s not who you are."

I buried my face in his chest, frustrated and confused and so tired of being the bigger person. His shirt was soft against my cheek. Warm. I could hear his heartbeat—steady and sure beneath the expensive fabric.

"I hate this," I said, my voice muffled against him.

"I know." His hand moved through my hair, gentle strokes that should have soothed me but only made the frustration worse.

"I want her to pay." I pulled back to look at him. His face was half in shadow, half lit by the glow from the windows. Those ice-blue eyes were soft now with worry.

"She will." He kissed the top of my head, his lips were warm. "Through legal channels. Through natural consequences. But Aria, you are actively destroying her life—that’s not justice. That’s you becoming the villain in her story instead of the survivor in yours."

We stood there for a long time, holding each other while the city hummed below us. I could hear the distant sound of traffic. Car horns. The faint wail of a siren blocks away. The penthouse was too quiet. The air conditioning blowing through the vents, raising goosebumps on my arms. I shivered despite the warmth of Damien’s embrace.

"What do I do?" I finally asked.

"You let the legal system handle Vivian." His voice was firm. Strong. The CEO voice he used in boardrooms. "You focus on what matters—Noah, our family, our companies. You choose peace over revenge."

"And if she attacks again?" I traced the buttons on his shirt with one finger. Smooth mother-of-pearl under my touch.

"Then we defend ourselves." He pulled back to look at me. His hands cupped my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. "But we don’t become her, Aria. We don’t let hatred make us into people our son wouldn’t recognize."

I thought about Noah’s question earlier. The innocent confusion in those devastating blue eyes. About how he’d asked if Vivian was coming to his next party, hopeful and trusting. He’d been so excited to learn he had another aunt. Another piece of family he didn’t know existed.

And I’d had to crush that hope. Had to explain that family could hurt you. That blood didn’t mean loyalty.The memory made my chest tight, made breathing harder. "He deserves better than having a mother consumed by revenge," I admitted as my throat burned with unshed tears.

"He deserves the mother who taught me about forgiveness," Damien said softly as his thumb caught a tear that escaped down my cheek. "The one who gave me a second chance when I didn’t deserve it. Be that person, Aria. Not because Vivian deserves mercy, but because you deserve peace."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to defend my plans. To list all the ways Vivian had destroyed me. How she’d smiled while seducing my husband. How she’d laughed when our parents threw me out. How she’d spread lies about me being unstable, desperate, pathetic.

But standing there, wrapped in Damien’s arms, I realized he was right. Revenge wasn’t making me happy. It was making me hard. Cold. Someone I didn’t recognize when I looked in the mirror. Someone with sharp edges and calculating eyes. Someone Noah might one day fear instead of love. "Okay," I whispered but the word felt like surrender. "I’ll stop."

"You will?" There was surprise in his voice, instant relief.

"I’ll stop actively destroying her life." I looked up at him. His face was so close I could see the faint stubble on his jaw. Could smell his cologne—cedar and something darker. "But I’m not reaching out. Not offering forgiveness. She gets natural consequences and legal prosecution, but nothing more."

"That’s fair." He smiled slightly. "That’s justice, not revenge."

"Fine." I stepped back. The loss of his warmth made me feel exposed. "But if she comes after us again"

"Then we end her," Damien said flatly. "Together but until then, we take the high road."

"I hate the high road," I muttered.

"I know." He laughed but the sound broke some of the tension. "But Noah’s watching and he needs to see us choose right over easy."

"When did you get so wise?"

"I had an excellent teacher." He pulled me back for a kiss. His lips were warm,tasting faintly of the wine we’d had with dinner. "A brilliant, strong, occasionally terrifying woman who showed me that being better is harder than being bitter."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," I said against his lips.

"Good to know." He deepened the kiss, drawing me closer. His hands slid down my back, settling on my hips before moving lower. He squeezed gently, possessively, and I couldn’t help the small moan that escaped.

"Damien" I broke away, breathless. "No. Stop with the seduction tactics. Noah could walk in."

He laughed, low and dangerous as the sound sent shivers down my spine. "Or are you scared you won’t be able to control yourself?"

"You’re such a bad boy." I pushed lightly at his chest, trying to create distance even as my body betrayed me by leaning into him.

He caught my hands, holding them against his chest. His heart was racing under my palms. He pouted—actually pouted—looking ridiculously attractive and far too pleased with himself."If I remember correctly," he said, his voice dropping an octave, "you called me daddy the last time."

My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number."Heard you called off the dogs. Disappointed. I was enjoying watching you become me. —V"

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