The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 37

Chapter 37: Chapter 37: The Reveal Begins

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."

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."

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!"

"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?"

"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."

My heart clenched. "That sounds beautiful, sweetheart. Why don’t you go get it while I talk to your teacher?"

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."

"Thank you," I managed, though my hands were shaking. "I appreciate you calling me right away."

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?"

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."

"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."

"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."

"Then I’ll stop him myself." The promise in his voice was absolute. "Whatever it takes, Aria. He won’t get near Noah again."

"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?"

"By doing what I should have done years ago," Damien said. "By confronting Marcus directly and ending this once and for all."

"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?"

"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."

"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?"

"Everything’s fine, baby," I lied, unlocking our apartment door. "Why don’t you go wash your hands for snack time?"

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?

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify