Chapter Six

Chapter Six

LIANA,

The days since Ethan’s unexpected offer had blurred into one another, each moment stretching into a tangled mess of confusion and doubt. I hadn’t been able to sleep, to eat, to think clearly. Ethan’s words echoed in my mind, over and over again, like a constant reminder of the impossible decision hanging over me.

Marry me. I’ll protect you. I’ll stop Damien from taking everything.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. The man who had once been nothing more than a shadow in the background of my life was now offering me a way out of this nightmare. A way to stop Damien from destroying me, from taking my daughter away.

But the cost... the cost of marrying Ethan was something I couldn’t shake. I didn’t know him. He was a stranger, a man with ties to the very people who had hurt me, a man who had spent years pulling strings in the background. The thought of tying myself to him, of becoming his in some twisted game of convenience, was repugnant. But was it worse than losing everything? Worse than watching Damien tear my life apart?

The house felt like a prison, the walls closing in around me as I watched Emma play in the living room, her small hands fumbling with her toys. She was so young—too young to understand what was happening to us. Too young to know how close we were to losing it all.

I had spent the last few days trying to find a solution, a way to fight back without resorting to Ethan’s offer. I had called in favors, spoken with my lawyer, tried to figure out how to turn the tide in my favor. But each call, each meeting, only made one thing painfully clear: I was out of options.

Then Emma fell ill.

It started with a fever, nothing too alarming at first, but by the next morning, her condition worsened. She couldn’t keep down any food, her small body trembling with chills. I rushed her to the doctor, praying it was just a simple virus, something easily treatable.

But the doctor’s diagnosis shattered me. Emma had been diagnosed with a heart condition. It wasn’t just a minor problem—it was something that required specialized care, immediate treatment. The kind of treatment I couldn’t afford. The kind of treatment that Damien wasn’t going to provide.

I had to make a decision, and I felt like I was drowning.

The room seemed to spin around me as I stood there, staring at the doctor in disbelief. My daughter—my baby—was so fragile, so innocent. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to be in pain, to fight a battle her small body was struggling to win. I had always been her protector, her safe place, and now I couldn’t even protect her from something as terrifying as this.

I sat with her in the waiting room, clutching her to me as though the warmth of my body could somehow make everything better. My mind raced. I needed help. I needed answers. And the only person who could help me—who could afford this treatment, who could ensure Emma’s survival—was Damien. But there was no way I could ask him.

Damien.

The thought of him made my stomach churn. The last time I had spoken to him had been a painful exchange, one that left me feeling smaller and more insignificant than I had ever felt. And yet, here I was, staring at my daughter, feeling her tiny heartbeat flutter against mine, knowing that I had no choice. If I wanted Emma to survive, I had to swallow my pride and call him.

But then the confusion set in.

I had been so determined to fight him—so determined to protect Emma from his influence, to ensure she didn’t become another pawn in his cruel game of control. But this was different. This was about her health. She needed treatment, and I didn’t have the money. I couldn’t do it alone. Would Damien help me? Would he even care?

I thought about the last few months. About how he had turned his back on me, about the bitter words we had exchanged. The pain of betrayal, the sense of powerlessness. He had been cold, calculating, and cruel. It had been years since I had seen him show any kind of real compassion, but maybe—just maybe—he would be different now. Maybe he would see that Emma’s health was at stake and do the right thing.

But then the thought of his conditions came rushing back. He had wanted custody. He had wanted control.

Could I really trust him?

Would he use this as leverage, as a way to take Emma away from me forever?

My chest tightened as the weight of my indecision pressed down on me. I had no choice. I had to call him. But what would his response be? I wasn’t sure if I could handle another crushing blow from him.

My phone sat on the table, mocking me with its silence. I reached for it, my hand trembling. I didn’t know what to expect, what kind of answer he would give. I thought about the last few times we had spoken. The bitterness, the cruelty in his voice. But he was Emma’s father. And he did care about her, didn’t he?

Taking a deep breath, I dialed his number, my heart pounding in my chest. The dial tone felt like it echoed in the silence around me.

“Liana,” Damien’s voice came through, smooth and cold, as always. “What do you want?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to steady myself. “Emma’s sick,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “She needs specialized treatment. She’s been diagnosed with a heart condition. I can’t afford it. Damien... please. I need your help.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. For a moment, I thought he might hang up, that he might refuse before I could even finish speaking. And then his voice came, laced with a mocking edge.

“I’ll tell you what I want, Liana,” he said, his words cutting through the air like a knife. “I’ll take full custody of Emma. You’re clearly incapable of caring for her properly. Maybe a change of environment will do her good. But I’ll only help with her treatment on my terms.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Full custody? Was he serious?

“Full custody or nothing,” his voice had hissed into my ear just moments ago, sharp and merciless. “It’s not about Emma, Liana. It’s about control. You lost.”

That was his answer to his own daughter’s suffering. No compassion. No hesitation. Just a demand for complete ownership over the one thing that still gave my life meaning. And the worst part? He sounded almost amused—like he wanted me to suffer for daring to ask for help.

Tears blurred my vision, and I stared at the floor, the silence of the room ringing louder than any scream. My pulse thundered in my ears. I had always known Damien was cold, but I never imagined he’d take his cruelty this far. He wouldn’t save Emma unless he could destroy me first. I was nothing more than a pawn, and my daughter… collateral damage.

A rustle.

The subtle shift in the air.

I lifted my head slowly, half-expecting to see nothing, to realize the silence had driven me mad. But standing in the doorway, like a phantom summoned by despair, was Ethan.

His presence sucked the breath from my lungs and my phone fell off my hands.

He wore black, always black, the tailored lines of his coat giving him an otherworldly stillness. His eyes locked on mine, unreadable—like he had been there long enough to hear everything.

“Ethan?” I whispered, not sure if he was real or a cruel hallucination conjured by my desperation.

He stepped forward slowly, the door closing softly behind him. “I figured you might call him first.”

“How…?” I couldn’t finish the question. My throat burned too much to speak.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on things,” he said simply, but there was something sharp in his voice. “I had to make sure you wouldn’t fall back into old mistakes.”

I wanted to protest, to scream that Damien was never an option—not truly. But the truth was, I had hoped, deep down, that a father wouldn’t abandon his child. That he wouldn’t barter her health for ownership. And that hope had shattered me.

“He said he’d only help if I gave him full custody,” I croaked out.

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “Of course he did. That’s Damien.”

My chest ached—not just from the weight of the decision, but from the pounding, erratic rhythm of my heart. The condition. The words of the doctor still echoed painfully in my head: a congenital defect… stress will make it worse… long-term damage is likely without proper management.

But how could I manage anything? I was drowning.

“I can’t lose her,” I whispered.

“You won’t.”

I stared at him, eyes red and raw. “Why are you here?”

Ethan moved closer, slower this time, like he didn’t want to startle me. “Because I meant what I said. My offer still stands. And after what just happened…” He paused, his voice softening. “You deserve better than begging devils for mercy.”

I blinked at him, overwhelmed by everything—the fear, the anger, the grief, and the flicker of hope I was too scared to name. “You said if I married you, you’d protect me. Help Emma.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Yes. That hasn’t changed.”

I hesitated. The idea of marrying him still felt like stepping off a cliff blindfolded. But what terrified me more was letting pride keep me from saving my daughter. From keeping her safe. My own body was failing me. My heart was a ticking time bomb. And Emma—Emma had no one else.

I took a breath, shaky and shallow. “And you’ll really take care of her treatment?”

“Already arranged. The specialists are waiting for your approval.”

“Why?” My voice cracked. “Why are you doing this?”

Ethan didn’t answer right away. He crouched to pick up my phone from the floor, setting it gently on the table beside us. When he looked at me again, there was a strange kind of tenderness in his expression. Not soft—but honest.

“Because I don’t want to watch you break. Because you’re stronger than he thinks you are. And because Emma deserves a life without fear.” His jaw tightened. “Even if I have to be the villain in the story to give it to her.”

Something inside me gave way, like the final thread holding back the dam. I looked up at him, into the storm of shadows in his eyes, and nodded.

“I’ll marry you.”

The words fell from my lips like surrender—but it wasn’t weakness. It was the only strength I had left.

He stepped forward again and extended a hand. “Then let’s begin.”

I took it.

Not for myself. Not for love.

But for Emma.

For the hope of a future that wouldn’t destroy her.

And maybe—just maybe—there was still something left in me worth saving too.