Chapter 11 — The Question She Refused to Answer

Damian couldn't move.

For several seconds, the noise around him seemed to disappear.

The laughter of the guests. The clinking of glasses. The soft music playing somewhere behind him.

None of it mattered anymore.

His eyes remained fixed on the little girl standing beside Aurora.

She was holding Aurora's hand with one tiny fist while the other clutched a small stuffed rabbit. She looked completely unaware of the storm she had just created inside Damian's mind.

Damian swallowed hard.

It couldn't be.

It was impossible.

Yet the longer he stared at her, the more uncomfortable the thought became.

There was something familiar about her.

Not just her eyes.

The shape of her face. The little crease that appeared between her eyebrows whenever she became curious. Even the way she tilted her head when she looked at someone.

Damian had seen those things before.

In the mirror.

His breath caught.

"Damian?"

Aurora's voice finally broke through his thoughts.

He looked at her.

She was watching him carefully now.

Too carefully.

And that made his suspicion grow.

"What's her name?" Damian asked.

Aurora's fingers tightened around the girl's hand.

"Why?"

The simple question sounded defensive.

Damian noticed.

So did Aurora.

Her expression changed immediately, as though she regretted revealing too much.

Damian took one slow step toward them.

"I'm just asking."

"And I'm asking why you want to know."

His jaw tightened.

"Because I've never seen her before."

"Then you've got your answer."

Aurora turned slightly, positioning herself between Damian and the child.

The movement was small.

But Damian saw it.

His chest tightened.

Why was she protecting the girl from him?

He lowered his voice.

"Aurora."

"What?"

"Look at me."

"I am looking at you."

"No." Damian's eyes hardened. "You're avoiding me."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The little girl looked from one adult to the other.

Then she tugged gently on Aurora's dress.

"Mommy?"

Damian froze.

Aurora froze too.

The word seemed to hang between them.

Mommy.

Damian stared at the child.

Then slowly looked at Aurora.

Something inside him cracked.

"Mommy?" he repeated.

Aurora's face went pale.

"Damian, don't."

"Don't what?"

His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Ask questions?"

Aurora's eyes flashed.

"This isn't the place."

"Then tell me where."

"Not here."

"Fine."

Damian stepped closer.

"Where, Aurora?"

She looked around nervously.

People were beginning to notice them.

Aurora immediately took the girl's hand.

"We're leaving."

She turned.

Damian caught her words before she could walk away.

"Aurora."

She stopped.

"Is she mine?"

Aurora didn't turn around.

The question had been spoken quietly.

But it landed like thunder.

The little girl's fingers curled around Aurora's.

Aurora closed her eyes.

Damian waited.

One second.

Two.

Three.

Still nothing.

"Aurora."

Her shoulders stiffened.

Finally, she turned.

Her face was unreadable.

"You've been gone for years," she said.

Damian frowned.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything."

She looked directly into his eyes.

"You don't get to disappear from my life and suddenly come back demanding answers."

"I didn't know there was a child."

"Exactly."

The words came out sharper than she intended.

Damian stared at her.

His heart hammered against his ribs.

"Why didn't I know?"

Aurora's expression softened for half a second.

Then the wall returned.

"Because you didn't need to."

Damian's eyes widened.

"Didn't need to?"

He almost laughed, but there was no humor in it.

"You're telling me I have a child, and I didn't need to know?"

"I didn't say she's your child."

Silence.

Damian's expression changed.

Aurora immediately realized her mistake.

He stepped toward her.

"You didn't say she's my child."

"That's what I said."

"But you also didn't say she isn't."

Aurora's lips parted.

Nothing came out.

Damian looked at the little girl again.

She was staring at him now.

Curiously.

Almost cautiously.

Then she did something that made Damian's entire body go rigid.

She smiled.

A small, innocent smile.

And Damian recognized it.

He remembered that smile.

Aurora used to smile that way whenever she was trying not to laugh at him.

His gaze returned to Aurora.

"How old is she?"

Aurora's face hardened.

"That's none of your business."

"How old?"

"Damian, stop."

"Four?"

Her silence made his stomach twist.

"Five?"

Aurora looked away.

Damian's heart seemed to stop.

Five.

The number struck him with frightening precision.

Five years ago.

His memories raced backward.

A different time.

A different version of Aurora.

Before everything had fallen apart.

Before he had walked away.

Before the mistakes that had changed both their lives.

His face lost its color.

"How old is she, Aurora?"

Aurora finally looked at him.

"Five."

Damian stopped breathing.

For a moment, he heard nothing.

Five years.

The timing was too close.

Far too close.

His eyes dropped to the child.

She was five.

Aurora had been pregnant around the same time he had left.

Damian suddenly remembered the last night they had spent together.

The argument.

Aurora's tears.

The words he had said without thinking.

And the way she had looked at him as though he had broken something that could never be repaired.

He had left the next morning.

He had never looked back.

Or so he had told himself.

"Damian."

He slowly raised his eyes.

Aurora was watching him.

"What?"

"Don't make assumptions."

"Then tell me the truth."

"I don't owe you the truth."

His expression darkened.

"You don't owe me?"

"No."

"About a child who might be mine?"

Aurora's eyes flashed.

"You said might."

Damian went silent.

Aurora immediately looked away.

She had confirmed more than she intended.

He could see it.

"You know," Damian whispered.

Aurora shook her head.

"I know nothing."

"You're lying."

"Don't call me a liar."

"Then prove me wrong."

Aurora's eyes filled with something Damian couldn't identify.

Pain?

Anger?

Fear?

Perhaps all three.

She crouched beside the little girl.

"Come on, sweetheart."

The girl looked up at her.

"Mommy, who is he?"

Damian's heart broke at the question.

Aurora hesitated.

That hesitation hurt more than any answer could have.

"He's..."

She stopped.

Damian waited.

The little girl looked at him again.

Damian found himself unable to look away.

Aurora finally stood.

"He's someone I used to know."

Damian's face hardened.

Someone I used to know.

After everything?

After years together?

After whatever had happened between them?

That's what he was now?

A stranger?

The little girl seemed dissatisfied.

"What's his name?"

Aurora's eyes moved to Damian.

Damian answered before she could.

"Damian."

The little girl repeated it softly.

"Damian."

Something strange happened.

Her expression changed.

Not recognition.

Something closer to curiosity.

"Do you know Mommy?"

Damian looked at Aurora.

"Yes."

Aurora immediately interrupted.

"That's enough."

She took the girl's hand and began walking away.

Damian followed.

"Aurora."

She kept walking.

"Aurora!"

She stopped near the entrance.

Slowly, she turned.

Damian stood several feet away.

His voice was quieter now.

Almost desperate.

"Just answer one question."

Aurora said nothing.

"Is her father alive?"

Aurora's face went completely still.

Damian's heart dropped.

That wasn't the answer he expected.

He stared at her.

Aurora tightened her grip around the girl's hand.

"Why are you asking that?"

"Because you won't tell me who he is."

"Maybe there's a reason."

"Then give me the reason."

Aurora looked at him for a long moment.

Then she said quietly:

"Some truths destroy more than lies ever could."

And with that, she walked away.

Damian remained where he was.

The doors closed behind Aurora and the little girl.

His hands slowly curled into fists.

Five years.

A child.

Aurora's fear.

Her refusal to answer.

And now that strange warning.

Damian pulled out his phone.

His fingers hovered over the screen.

There was one person who might know the truth.

Someone who had been around Aurora after he left.

Someone who might know exactly what happened five years ago.

Damian stared at the contact.

Then pressed call.

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Finally, someone answered.

"Hello?"

Damian's voice was cold.

"I need you to tell me everything you know about Aurora."

Silence.

"Especially what happened five years ago."

The person on the other end stopped breathing for a moment.

Then came the reply.

"Damian... you really shouldn't be asking about that."

His eyes narrowed.

"Why?"

Another silence.

Then:

"Because if Aurora finds out you're investigating the girl, you're going to lose whatever chance you have left with her."

Damian stared toward the doors Aurora had disappeared through.

His voice dropped.

"What girl?"

The person hesitated.

Then whispered:

"Your daughter."

The call ended.

Damian stood completely still.

His phone slipped slightly in his hand.

For the first time in five years, Damian wasn't afraid of losing Aurora.

He was afraid of discovering what she had been forced to hide from him.

And somewhere beyond those doors, the little girl he might have called his daughter was walking away with the woman he had never stopped loving.

End of Chapter 11

Cliffhanger: Damian receives the first confirmation that the little girl may actually be his daughter—but the person who knows the truth warns him that uncovering Aurora's secret could destroy his last chance of winning her back.