The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 40

Chapter 40: Chapter 40: Walking Into Trouble

Aria POV

I lay awake long after Noah fell asleep, staring at the ceiling of Damien’s guest room and trying to process everything that had happened in the span of a few hours.

Marcus throwing a brick through my window. Damien reading bedtime stories to our son. The two of us here, in his home, playing at being a family while a psychopath planned ways to destroy us.

My phone buzzed with a text from Lucas: Saw the news about the break-in at your apartment. Are you okay? Where are you?

I typed and deleted three different responses before settling on: I’m safe. Can’t talk right now. I’ll call you tomorrow.

His response came immediately: If you need anything, I’m here. Day or night. You know that, right? 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

I stared at the message, at the simple sincerity of it, and felt my chest tighten. Lucas was everything Damien wasn’t—uncomplicated, emotionally available, safe. He would never throw bricks through windows or play mind games or come with a psychotic brother and a family legacy of trauma.

But he also wasn’t Noah’s father. He wasn’t the man who’d read "Goodnight Moon" three times with infinite patience. He wasn’t the one who’d looked at our son with such devastating love that it had made my heart ache.

He wasn’t Damien.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Despite everything Damien had done, despite all the reasons I should hate him, some part of me still wanted him. Still remembered the way he’d made me feel during those brief moments when his walls had come down, when he’d let me see the man beneath the cold exterior..

I heard footsteps in the hallway and tensed, but they passed by the guest room door without stopping. Damien, pacing his own home like a caged animal.

Tomorrow we would figure out how to trap Marcus. Tomorrow we would start planning our strategy, mobilizing resources, doing all the things that needed to be done to keep Noah safe.

But tonight, I just lay here in the dark with my son sleeping peacefully beside me, wondering how everything had gotten so complicated so fast.

And wondering why, despite everything, some small part of me was glad to be here.

Around 2 AM, thirst woke me from the light sleep I’d finally managed to fall into. Noah was sprawled across most of the bed, one small arm flung over my chest, breathing deeply. I carefully extracted myself without waking him and slipped out of the guest room.

The penthouse was dark except for dim accent lighting along the baseboards. I padded down the hallway toward the kitchen, my bare feet silent on the cool hardwood floors. I was wearing one of my old oversized t-shirts and sleep shorts, completely inappropriate for walking around my ex-husband’s home, but I hadn’t exactly packed with the expectation of running into anyone.

The kitchen was massive and modern, all stainless steel and marble countertops. I found a glass and filled it from the filtered water dispenser, drinking half of it in one long gulp. The cool water felt good against my parched throat.

I was refilling the glass when I heard it—the sound of running water coming from somewhere down the opposite hallway. A shower, I realized. Damien was awake too.

I told myself to go back to the guest room. To drink my water and crawl back into bed with Noah and not think about Damien naked and wet just a few doors away. But my feet seemed to have other ideas, carrying me slowly down the hallway toward the master suite.

I told myself I was just checking to make sure everything was okay. That the sound of running water at 2 AM was concerning and I was being cautious, not curious.

I was lying to myself.

The master suite door was open—not all the way, but enough. Enough to see through to the bathroom beyond, where steam was beginning to drift out into the bedroom. Enough to see that the bathroom door was also open, like Damien hadn’t been expecting anyone to be awake, to be wandering his halls.

The water shut off.

I should have left. Should have turned around and walked away before he emerged, before this moment could become something I couldn’t take back.

But I didn’t move.

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