Chapter Four

Isabella POV

“Yes” came out before my brain could catch up.

Not from love. But because Damien Blackwood’s steady gray eyes made the alternative, being alone, broke, raising this baby while Ethan played house, feel impossible.

Damien didn’t grin or celebrate. He just gave one firm nod, like business was done.

“We’ll get the papers drawn today. No romance. No expectations beyond the contract. You keep your child safe. I manage everything else.”

It sounded so cold and practical. Yet my heart beat faster whenever he looked my way.

The following days went by in a blur. Lawyers, papers to sign, a private doctor who said the baby was healthy. Damien moved me into one of his places, a beautiful but cold apartment with amazing views of the New York skyline. He was always polite and in control, but I would catch him watching me with an expression I couldn’t figure out.

On the second day, while I was unpacking some clothes the staff brought over, Damien stopped by with some documents. “How are you settling in?” he asked, leaning against the doorway.

“It’s beautiful here,” I replied, looking out at the skyline. “But it still feels like I’m living in someone else’s life. Do you really think this contract will work? What if the board sees through it?”

“They won’t,” he said calmly. “As long as we show up together and look united. People believe what they see. Have you thought about what you’ll need for the baby? Clothes, furniture, anything?”

I nodded slowly. “A few things, but I don’t want to ask for too much. This already feels like too much. Yesterday the doctor said everything looks good, but I keep worrying if I’ll be a good mom.”

“You’re not doing it alone anymore,” Damien reminded me. “That’s part of the deal. I’ll get someone to handle the shopping if you want. Just tell me what you need.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Why are you being so careful with me? Most men in your position would treat this like a simple business deal.”

He gave a small shrug. “Because I’ve seen too many cold deals go bad. This one doesn’t have to be like that. You’re carrying a child, Isabella. My grandchild, even if Ethan doesn’t deserve to be called a father. How are you feeling today? Still sick in the mornings?”

“Somewhat,” I admitted. “The nausea comes and goes. But talking to you helps a little. It makes me feel less like I’m drowning. Do you ever worry that this whole thing might blow up in our faces?”

“It might,” he said honestly. “But I’ve faced bigger risks before. The key is controlling what we can. Have you told your family in Chicago yet?”

“Not yet,” I confessed. “I’m still trying to figure out how to explain it. ‘Hey Mom, I’m pregnant and marrying my ex’s father for protection’ doesn’t sound great.”

Damien gave a rare, quiet chuckle. “True. We’ll handle that when you’re ready. For now, focus on resting. The doctor mentioned prenatal vitamins, make sure you’re taking them.”

“Good,” he said quietly. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

Ethan learned the truth on day four.

I was sitting with Damien at a quiet café when my phone started blowing up with angry texts. Then the call came. I answered without thinking.

“You whore!” Ethan yelled through the speaker. “You ran to my father? Trying to destroy me?”

Damien calmly took the phone from my hand, ended the call, and blocked the number.

“He’ll learn his place,” was all he said.

I stared at the table, my hands shaking. “He sounded so angry. Do you think he’ll try something? He kept calling me names, saying I betrayed him after everything.”

Damien’s jaw tightened a little. “Let him be angry. He brought this on himself. Did he say anything else before I took the phone?”

“Just that I was ruining his life and that Vanessa would never forgive him for this mess. He asked how I could go to you of all people.” I let out a shaky breath. “I wanted to tell him he ruined mine first, but the words got stuck. Part of me still can’t believe this is real.”

“You don’t owe him any explanations,” Damien replied. “He had six years to treat you right. Now he’s facing what happens when he doesn’t. Are you okay? You look pale again.”

“I’m managing,” I said. “It’s just hearing his voice brought everything back. The good times mixed with the bad. Do you ever regret how things turned out with him? As a father, I mean.”

Damien looked thoughtful. “Every parent has regrets. Maybe I pushed him too hard. But he made his own choices. This marriage will show him that actions have real costs. Tell me, Isabella, what would you say to him if you could right now, without all the screaming?”

I thought for a moment. “I’d tell him I deserved better. That i built half that company with him, and he threw me away like I was nothing. But mostly, I’d say this baby will know what strength looks like, even if it’s not from him. Do you think Ethan will ever accept this baby?”

“Probably not soon,” Damien admitted. “But that’s his loss. You’re building something better here. Have you thought about names yet, or is it too early?”

“A little early,” I said with a small smile. “But I’ve had a few ideas. Nothing solid. This is all happening so fast. One minute I was crying in a bar, and now I’m… here with you.”

Damien nodded approvingly. “That’s the spirit. Keep that fire. You’ll need it for what’s coming. And remember, if Ethan contacts you again, come to me first. No handling it alone.”

That evening, Damien returned earlier than usual. He found me on the balcony, hands on my still-small bump, watching the sunset paint the city orange.

“Regrets?” he asked softly, standing beside me. The breeze ruffled his shirt.

“No,” I answered. “But I’m terrified. This feels like stepping off a building.”

He turned fully toward me. For the first time, he covered my hand with his larger, warmer one on the railing.

“Then we step off together.”

My breath hitched. It was the closest to tenderness I’d seen from him.

Before I could reply, his phone rang. He listened, his jaw going tight.

“Tomorrow night,” he told the caller. “We will announce it at the gala.”

He hung up and met my eyes.

“Ready to set it all on fire, Isabella?”

I swallowed. “Yes.”