The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 84

Chapter 84: Chapter 84: First Crack in Her Armor

Aria’s POV

"The past where you threw me out while pregnant?" I kept my voice low level. "Or the past where you chose Vivian over me? Which part should I forget?"

"I know we made mistakes"

"Mistakes." I laughed bitterly. "Is that what we’re calling it now?"

"Please, Aria." Now she sounded desperate. "I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But Noah is my grandson, i just want to meet him. Once. Just once."

Something about her tone set off alarm bells. Eleanor Monroe never begged. Never showed vulnerability unless she wanted something.

"Why now?" I asked. "Why after all this years of silence?"

"Because I saw the news. About Marcus, about the threats." She took a breath. "Because I’m getting older and I realized—family is all that matters and I threw mine away."

It sounded genuine. "I need to think about it," I said finally.

"Of course. Take all the time you need." She paused. "I’m staying at the Grandview Hotel, Room 412 incase you you change your mind." 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

She hung up before I could respond. I sat there, staring at my phone, trying to process what just happened.

"Your mother?" Damien’s voice made me jump. He stood in the doorway, two coffee cups in hand.

"How did you know?"

"You have the same expression Noah gets when he’s trying to figure out if broccoli is secretly poison." He handed me a cup. "What did she want?"

"To meet Noah, to reconcile." I took a sip, grateful for the warmth. "To suddenly play grandmother after abandoning us."

"And you said?"

"That I’d think about it." I set down the cup. "Which is more than she deserves."

Damien sat on the edge of the desk, his posture deceptively casual for a man who looked ready to wage war on my behalf. "What does your gut tell you?"

I crossed my arms, fingers digging into my biceps. "That she wants something. Eleanor Monroe doesn’t do anything without a motive."

He was quiet for a moment, studying me with those ice-blue eyes that had once been so cruel and now looked at me with something dangerously close to tenderness.

"I know I should be the last person saying all this," he said finally, his voice low. "Because I am not perfect. In fact, I was the person who caused you the most pain." He paused, and I watched his throat work as he swallowed. "But if you don’t feel comfortable, then don’t see her."

My chest tightened. "It’s not that simple"

"Yes, it is." He shrugged, but there was nothing casual about the intensity in his gaze. "You don’t owe her anything."

"I know that." But even as I said it, something nagged at me—that old, familiar pull of daughterly obligation I couldn’t quite shake. "But what if she’s genuine? What if she really does want to make amends?"

"Then she can wait until you’re ready." His hand found mine, warm and solid, and I hated how much comfort that simple touch brought me. "Aria, you’ve been through hell. You don’t need to add your mother to the mix right now."

He was right. I knew he was right.

So why did I feel guilty?

I pulled my hand back, creating distance. "That’s rich, coming from you." The words came out sharper than I intended, but I pressed on anyway. "You’re telling me to cut off toxic family when you spent a years believing your father’s programming about relationships, about me."

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. For a moment, I thought I’d gone too far—that I’d pushed him back behind those impenetrable walls he’d spent years building.

But then his shoulders dropped, and something raw flickered across his face.

"Exactly," he said quietly. "That’s how I know what it costs."

I wanted to be angry at him for the irony of it all—for having the audacity to give me advice about family when his own father had turned him into an emotional wasteland. When he’d let that programming destroy us.

But the sincerity in his voice stopped me cold.

"Damien"

"I let my father’s words ruin the best thing that ever happened to me," he continued, and his voice was barely above a whisper now. "I let him convince me that feeling anything was weakness. That loving someone was a trap instead of a gift. And when I finally woke up, you were gone." His eyes met mine, and the regret there was so palpable it almost hurt to look at. "I know toxic family, Aria. I know how they make you question yourself, how they twist your reality until you don’t trust your own instincts anymore. And I know that if Eleanor is anything like my father, she’ll use that guilt you’re feeling right now as a weapon."

I wanted to argue. To tell him he was being paranoid, that my mother couldn’t possibly be that calculating.

But the words wouldn’t come.

Because he was right. And deep down, I’d always known it.

"I hate that you make sense right now," I admitted, my voice small.

The corner of his mouth lifted—not quite a smile, but something softer than his usual stern expression. "I hate that I have to be the voice of reason about family dysfunction. Believe me, the irony isn’t lost on me."

Despite everything, I almost laughed. Almost.

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