The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 44

Chapter 44: Chapter 44: Aria’s Pain

Aria POV

The elevator ride down from Damien’s penthouse felt like descending into hell. Noah was still crying softly against my shoulder, his small body trembling with fear he was too young to understand but old enough to feel.

"Mama, why was that man scary?" he whispered. "Why did he look at me like that?"

I held him tighter, my heart breaking. "Some people aren’t very nice, baby. But Mama’s going to keep you safe. I promise."

It was a promise I wasn’t sure I could keep. Not anymore.

My phone buzzed constantly in my pocket—messages, calls, alerts. I ignored them all. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting Noah somewhere secure.

The lobby security guard—one of Damien’s, clearly briefed—stepped forward when we emerged. "Ms. Monroe, Mr. Blackwood instructed me to escort you to your vehicle. There are reporters gathering outside."

"Reporters?" The word came out strangled. "Already?"

"The story broke twenty minutes ago, ma’am. They’re... persistent."

I looked down at Noah, whose crying had subsided into hiccups. His face was blotchy and red, his clothes wrinkled. He looked exactly like what he was—a frightened three-year-old who’d just had his entire world turned upside down.

And I was about to walk him through a crowd of photographers who’d capture his terror for the morning news cycle.

"Is there a back exit?" I asked quietly.

"Yes, ma’am. This way."

He led us through a service corridor and out to the underground parking garage. My driver was already there, the SUV running. The security guard opened the door, and I climbed in with Noah still in my arms.

"Straight to the penthouse," I instructed. "Don’t stop for anything." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

As we pulled out onto the street, I finally looked at my phone. Seventy-three missed calls. Over two hundred messages. My assistant, my board members, Lucas, Olivia, business partners, media contacts I’d cultivated, competitors probably salivating at my distraction.

And one message from Damien: I’m sorry. I’ll fix this. I swear.

I wanted to throw the phone out the window.

Instead, I called Olivia.

She answered on the first ring. "Oh my God, Aria, I’ve been trying to reach you for an hour. Are you okay? Is Noah"

"We’re fine," I cut her off, keeping my voice calm for Noah’s sake. He’d finally stopped crying and was staring out the window. "We’re heading back to my place. Can you meet us there?"

"Already on my way. I’m bringing my emergency bag." As a pediatrician, Olivia kept a medical kit stocked with everything from bandages to sedatives. "Has anyone tried to approach you?"

"Not yet. We left through the back."

"Good. Aria, this is bad. The story is everywhere. Business networks, social media, entertainment sites. Someone had professional photos, not just phone pics. This was coordinated."

Marcus. It had to be Marcus. He’d probably had someone following us for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"I know," I said quietly. "We’ll talk when you get there."

I hung up and pulled up one of the news articles. The headline made my stomach churn:

Ice Queen’s Secret Shame: CEO Aria Monroe Hid Billionaire’s Son for Three Years

The article was vicious. It painted me as a gold-digger who’d trapped Damien with a pregnancy, then hidden the child to extort him later. It referenced our marriage—somehow they’d dug up the records—and speculated about why we’d divorced. There were quotes from "anonymous sources close to the Blackwood family" saying I’d been paid off to leave quietly.

Every word was designed to destroy my reputation.

And the photos. God, the photos. Noah at the playground near my office, his face clearly visible. Noah holding my hand outside Monroe Global headquarters. Noah and Damien together.

My baby’s face was everywhere.

"Mama?" Noah’s small voice broke through my spiraling thoughts. "Are you crying?"

I touched my cheek and found it wet. I hadn’t even realized.

"I’m okay, baby." I wiped my eyes quickly. "Mama just has something in her eye."

He reached up and patted my face with his small hand, his expression serious. "It’s okay to be sad, Mama. You tell me that all the time."

The simple wisdom of it nearly broke me. Here was my three-year-old son trying to comfort me when I should be the one protecting him from all of this.

"You’re right, baby. Thank you." I kissed his forehead. "You’re such a good boy."

"The best boy," he agreed, and despite everything, I almost smiled.

We reached my building, and the doorman had clearly been warned. He waved us through immediately, and my security team was waiting at the private elevator.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify