The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 50

Chapter 50: Chapter 50: Live stream

Damien POV

The screen flickered to life, and my worst nightmare materialized in high definition.

Noah.

My son sat in that concrete room, still clutching his rabbit, but now he wasn’t alone. Marcus stood behind him, one hand resting on Noah’s small shoulder in a gesture that would look protective to anyone who didn’t know better.

But I knew better. That hand was a threat.

"Hello, everyone," Marcus said, smiling at the camera. "Thank you for joining us for this very special family reunion."

Beside me, Aria made a wounded sound.

"For those just tuning in, let me introduce you to the cast of characters." Marcus’s hand tightened on Noah’s shoulder. The boy flinched. "This adorable little gentleman is Noah. Three years old. Sweet kid. Loves dinosaurs and his stuffed rabbit. Say hello, Noah."

Noah’s lip trembled. He looked at the camera with those ice-blue eyes—my eyes—and whispered, "Hi, Mama."

Aria’s hand crushed mine.

"And watching from their luxury penthouse," Marcus continued, "we have the boy’s parents. Aria Monroe, self-made CEO and resident ice queen. And my dear brother, Damien Blackwood, the man who stole everything from me."

The camera angle shifted, and I realized with sick horror that we were on screen too. A split screen showing Noah and Marcus on one side, Aria and me on the other.

He wasn’t just broadcasting Noah. He was broadcasting all of us.

"Now, I know what you’re thinking," Marcus addressed the camera—no, the audience. "This seems extreme. Kidnapping a child, putting him on display. But you don’t know the full story. You don’t know what this family has done to me."

"Marcus, please" I started, but he held up a hand.

"Ah ah ah. No interruptions, brother. This is my show." He smiled. "And what a show it’s going to be."

The screen changed again. Now it showed footage—old footage from my father’s funeral. I recognized it immediately. The Blackwood family gathered in black, Marcus being forcibly removed from the service.

"See this?" Marcus’s voice continued over the video. "I was young. And my father—our father—had me thrown out like garbage. Why? Because I had the audacity to cry at my mother’s grave. Because I showed weakness."

The footage shifted. More scenes from our childhood. Marcus being berated by our father. Being locked in his room for "discipline." Being systematically broken down.

I’d seen some of it happening. I’d been too young, too scared to stop it.

"For thirty-five years, I lived in the shadow of the golden child," Marcus continued. The camera was back on him now, his hand still on Noah’s shoulder. "Damien got everything. Love. Approval. The company. While I got exile and abandonment."

"That’s not" Aria started, but I shook my head.

He wasn’t wrong at least not entirely.

"So when I heard that dear Damien had finally found something he actually cared about," Marcus’s voice dropped, dangerous now, "I saw an opportunity. A way to make him understand what it feels like to lose everything."

Noah whimpered as Marcus’s fingers dug into his shoulder, and the boy cried out softly.

"Don’t hurt him!" Aria shouted at the screen. "Marcus, please! He’s just a child!"

"Just a child," Marcus repeated. "Innocent. Blameless. Rather like I was when your husband destroyed my life."

The camera zoomed in on Noah’s face. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

"So here’s how this is going to work," Marcus said. "I’m going to ask Damien and Aria some questions. Simple questions. And for every lie they tell, for every time they try to deceive me or this lovely audience..." He squeezed Noah’s shoulder again, making him wince. "Little Noah here suffers the consequences."

My blood turned to ice.

"You son of a bitch," I breathed.

"Question one," Marcus continued like I hadn’t spoken. "Damien, did you know I was in a psychiatric facility for five years? Did you know what Father did to me after he exiled me?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it. The truth was complicated. Messy.

"The truth, brother," Marcus warned. "Remember, Noah is depending on you."

"Yes." I said. "I knew. I found out three years after you were sent away. Father told me it was for your own good."

"Did you ever visit me?"

"No."

"Did you ever try to get me out?"

"No." Shame burned through me. "I was young and was scared. I thought"

"You thought I deserved it," Marcus finished. "Because Father said so, because the golden child doesn’t question authority."

He wasn’t wrong. God help me, he wasn’t wrong.

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