The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 32

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: The Cost of Protection

"Did you kill the story?" Her voice cut through my explanation before I could start. "Yes or no?"

"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."

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."

"I know," I admitted, pocketing my phone. "But this is different. This is Noah. This is our son. I won’t fail him again."

"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?"

"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."

"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."

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."

"Finally." She turned toward her car, her movements sharp and jerky. "Something we agree on."

"Aria, wait" I reached for her hand without thinking.

She spun back so fast I almost stepped back. "Don’t touch me."

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?"

"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."

"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."

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?"

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

"Therapy?" She almost laughed, the sound harsh and disbelieving. "You think therapy fixes what you did to me? What you said?"

"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."

"I wasn’t in your life to love," she said, turning away. "You made sure of that when you threw me out."

"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.

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