Damien's Point of View For the first time in days, I fell asleep. Not the shallow, restless snoozing that troubled me after the tabloids exploded, but actual slumber. Deep. Bone-heavy.Ava cuddled up with me, her breathing calm across my chest, our boy safe in the nursery downstairs. That should have been enough. It should have felt like victory. But serenity, I was discovering, was an illusion. And dawn would always break it apart. The banging on the door began just after daybreak. I sprang awake suddenly, muscles strained, grabbing for the bat I kept beside the bed a habit I no longer considered. Ava stirred and looked up at me. "What is it?" "Stay here," I answered sternly, already changing into jeans and a shirt. The knocking became louder. Urgent. Relentless. My intuition sounded a warning. Something wasn't right. I rushed down the corridor, my pulse pounding, and wrenched the door open.Sophia was standing there with wild hair and a pale face, cl
. Damien's Point of View The knock on the door came shortly after midnight. Sharp and urgent. Like a sword cutting through the skin of silence. I was not expecting anyone. Ava was upstairs, finally sleeping after days of anxiety and stress that had stretched her thin. I spent the last hour pacing the dark penthouse, my thoughts racing, chasing shadows that wouldn't settle into answers. Now I was staring at the huge envelope on the porch. No address. There's no sender. Nothing wonderful ever come packaged in so much silence. I ripped it open with numb fingers. A single sheet of paper dropped into my hand, heavier than it should be. This was a paternity test.My heart is racing like a war horse.I blinked once, twice, and felt the ground move beneath me as the words clicked into place. Damian Cross is the father. Child: Liam Reynolds. Paternity probability: 0%. And under it, wrote in a hand that smelled of smug satisfaction: "He was never yours to love."
Damian's Point of View It started with flames. Not flames in the literal sense, though my blood was hot enough for that, but the fire of determination. About justice. Of knowing that someone had attempted to destroy everything I had ever loved and believed they would get away with it. Not this time. Ava sat with me at the kitchen island, going through legal contacts. Her hair was pushed back, her face naked, and she appeared like a warrior queen planning a siege. And I? I was her blade. "We can't go public yet," Ava explained, tapping the screen. "Rachel's lies have already gone viral. If we rush this, it will appear that we are scurrying. "We need to strike hard, smart, and once."I nodded, setting my coffee aside untouched. “We’ll leak it anonymously. Let the world do what it does best, let them eat her alive.” She glanced up, a flicker of amusement breaking through the fog in her eyes. “You’ve changed.” I held her gaze. “You changed me.” Her lips part
Ava’s Point of View The past has a scent. Not perfume or flowers — no, it smells like old smoke and velvet. Like secrets kept behind silk curtains in boardrooms you don’t speak of in daylight. When Damian showed me the photo, my breath stilled. London. Five years ago. The Kingston Hotel.And the men beside me? One was his father. The other was Arthur Vance the hedge fund billionaire who “disappeared” after an SEC investigation imploded without warning. Rachel had unearthed it. Of course she had. My hand trembled as I set the photo down on the table between us. Damian’s stare never left me."What is the Kingston deal, Ava?" I never wanted to lie. But I had decided not to tell. There is a distinction. I assumed I had buried that part of myself with the old Ava, the girl who donned silk blouses and weaponized her smile to outwit guys who underestimated her. But perhaps... I had merely concealed her under Liam’s lullabies. And now she was being held accountable. Dam
Damian's Point of View Throughout the night, I kept hearing the same message: "I haven't even opened the vault yet." Rachel didn't lie. Not like this. If she had a vault, it was not a metaphor. She meant something real. Something buried literally, digitally, or legally was designed to withstand even her own demise. And knowing her, it wasn't merely a threat. It was a well-timed landmine. I stood in the war room, a glass-walled corner office that we had transformed into a strategy hub, peering at the security feeds and evidence boards adorned with red threads, photographs, and timestamps.Ava joined me moments later, her face pallid but composed. She wore a navy dress and braided her hair, yet her eyes burned like steel. "She's forcing us into the final move," she told us. I nodded. "We need to find that vault before she uses it." She met my eyes. "And we need to be ready for what's inside." Because we both understood that if Rachel was saving it for last
Ava's POV Grief without confirmation is a form of madness. I wasn't sure if I was mourning a lost child or preparing to meet one I have never known existed. Both alternatives nagged at me. Both were terrifying. I sat in my office, the shades shut and the sunshine streamed through like anguish through lace. Sophia paced in front of my desk, phone in her ear. "He's six," she replied, nodding slowly. "Dark hair and green eyes." "Slight dimple on the left cheek." My breath caught. Liam had the same dimple. She hung up and turned to me. "I spoke with the private investigator. Two days earlier, Rachel checked Levi into a luxury mansion in Connecticut. High security. "No access.""Is he safe?" Sophia paused. "Physically? Yes. But emotionally? She shakes her head. "Rachel is coaching him. Feeding him stories." My heart broke. "Does he know about me?" I whispered. "Yes." "What did she tell him?" "That you left him." I grabbed the edge of the d
Ava's POV Grief without confirmation is a form of madness. I wasn't sure if I was mourning a lost child or preparing to meet one I have never known existed. Both alternatives nagged at me. Both were terrifying. I sat in my office, the shades shut and the sunshine streamed through like anguish through lace. Sophia paced in front of my desk, phone in her ear. "He's six," she replied, nodding slowly. "Dark hair and green eyes." "Slight dimple on the left cheek." My breath caught. Liam had the same dimple. She hung up and turned to me. "I spoke with the private investigator. Two days earlier, Rachel checked Levi into a luxury mansion in Connecticut. High security. "No access.""Is he safe?" Sophia paused. "Physically? Yes. But emotionally? She shakes her head. "Rachel is coaching him. Feeding him stories." My heart broke. "Does he know about me?" I whispered. "Yes." "What did she tell him?" "That you left him." I grabbed the edge of the d
Ava’s Point of ViewThe city looked the same, yet it felt different. Or maybe I was the one who had changed.As the car rolled to a stop in front of Phoenix Enterprises, I took a slow breath, steadying my pulse. The tinted windows shielded me from the outside world for now, but I knew what waited beyond them—curious eyes, murmured whispers, and cameras poised, ready to capture my return.I lifted my chin. I had prepared for this. Five years away, and I was no longer the woman who had once let this city chew her up and spit her out.I stepped out, the sharp click of my heels against the pavement cutting through the morning air. The weight of dozens of stares pressed against me, but I ignored them, adjusting the cuff of my blazer as if I didn’t notice.People whispered as I walked past.“Is that Ava Reynolds?”“She’s back?”“After five years?”I didn’t stop. I didn’t acknowledge them. I moved forward, head high, my posture poised.Inside, the familiar scent of polished wood and fresh es
Ava's POV Grief without confirmation is a form of madness. I wasn't sure if I was mourning a lost child or preparing to meet one I have never known existed. Both alternatives nagged at me. Both were terrifying. I sat in my office, the shades shut and the sunshine streamed through like anguish through lace. Sophia paced in front of my desk, phone in her ear. "He's six," she replied, nodding slowly. "Dark hair and green eyes." "Slight dimple on the left cheek." My breath caught. Liam had the same dimple. She hung up and turned to me. "I spoke with the private investigator. Two days earlier, Rachel checked Levi into a luxury mansion in Connecticut. High security. "No access.""Is he safe?" Sophia paused. "Physically? Yes. But emotionally? She shakes her head. "Rachel is coaching him. Feeding him stories." My heart broke. "Does he know about me?" I whispered. "Yes." "What did she tell him?" "That you left him." I grabbed the edge of the d
Ava's POV Grief without confirmation is a form of madness. I wasn't sure if I was mourning a lost child or preparing to meet one I have never known existed. Both alternatives nagged at me. Both were terrifying. I sat in my office, the shades shut and the sunshine streamed through like anguish through lace. Sophia paced in front of my desk, phone in her ear. "He's six," she replied, nodding slowly. "Dark hair and green eyes." "Slight dimple on the left cheek." My breath caught. Liam had the same dimple. She hung up and turned to me. "I spoke with the private investigator. Two days earlier, Rachel checked Levi into a luxury mansion in Connecticut. High security. "No access.""Is he safe?" Sophia paused. "Physically? Yes. But emotionally? She shakes her head. "Rachel is coaching him. Feeding him stories." My heart broke. "Does he know about me?" I whispered. "Yes." "What did she tell him?" "That you left him." I grabbed the edge of the d
Damian's Point of View Throughout the night, I kept hearing the same message: "I haven't even opened the vault yet." Rachel didn't lie. Not like this. If she had a vault, it was not a metaphor. She meant something real. Something buried literally, digitally, or legally was designed to withstand even her own demise. And knowing her, it wasn't merely a threat. It was a well-timed landmine. I stood in the war room, a glass-walled corner office that we had transformed into a strategy hub, peering at the security feeds and evidence boards adorned with red threads, photographs, and timestamps.Ava joined me moments later, her face pallid but composed. She wore a navy dress and braided her hair, yet her eyes burned like steel. "She's forcing us into the final move," she told us. I nodded. "We need to find that vault before she uses it." She met my eyes. "And we need to be ready for what's inside." Because we both understood that if Rachel was saving it for last
Ava’s Point of View The past has a scent. Not perfume or flowers — no, it smells like old smoke and velvet. Like secrets kept behind silk curtains in boardrooms you don’t speak of in daylight. When Damian showed me the photo, my breath stilled. London. Five years ago. The Kingston Hotel.And the men beside me? One was his father. The other was Arthur Vance the hedge fund billionaire who “disappeared” after an SEC investigation imploded without warning. Rachel had unearthed it. Of course she had. My hand trembled as I set the photo down on the table between us. Damian’s stare never left me."What is the Kingston deal, Ava?" I never wanted to lie. But I had decided not to tell. There is a distinction. I assumed I had buried that part of myself with the old Ava, the girl who donned silk blouses and weaponized her smile to outwit guys who underestimated her. But perhaps... I had merely concealed her under Liam’s lullabies. And now she was being held accountable. Dam
Damian's Point of View It started with flames. Not flames in the literal sense, though my blood was hot enough for that, but the fire of determination. About justice. Of knowing that someone had attempted to destroy everything I had ever loved and believed they would get away with it. Not this time. Ava sat with me at the kitchen island, going through legal contacts. Her hair was pushed back, her face naked, and she appeared like a warrior queen planning a siege. And I? I was her blade. "We can't go public yet," Ava explained, tapping the screen. "Rachel's lies have already gone viral. If we rush this, it will appear that we are scurrying. "We need to strike hard, smart, and once."I nodded, setting my coffee aside untouched. “We’ll leak it anonymously. Let the world do what it does best, let them eat her alive.” She glanced up, a flicker of amusement breaking through the fog in her eyes. “You’ve changed.” I held her gaze. “You changed me.” Her lips part
. Damien's Point of View The knock on the door came shortly after midnight. Sharp and urgent. Like a sword cutting through the skin of silence. I was not expecting anyone. Ava was upstairs, finally sleeping after days of anxiety and stress that had stretched her thin. I spent the last hour pacing the dark penthouse, my thoughts racing, chasing shadows that wouldn't settle into answers. Now I was staring at the huge envelope on the porch. No address. There's no sender. Nothing wonderful ever come packaged in so much silence. I ripped it open with numb fingers. A single sheet of paper dropped into my hand, heavier than it should be. This was a paternity test.My heart is racing like a war horse.I blinked once, twice, and felt the ground move beneath me as the words clicked into place. Damian Cross is the father. Child: Liam Reynolds. Paternity probability: 0%. And under it, wrote in a hand that smelled of smug satisfaction: "He was never yours to love."
Damien's Point of View For the first time in days, I fell asleep. Not the shallow, restless snoozing that troubled me after the tabloids exploded, but actual slumber. Deep. Bone-heavy.Ava cuddled up with me, her breathing calm across my chest, our boy safe in the nursery downstairs. That should have been enough. It should have felt like victory. But serenity, I was discovering, was an illusion. And dawn would always break it apart. The banging on the door began just after daybreak. I sprang awake suddenly, muscles strained, grabbing for the bat I kept beside the bed a habit I no longer considered. Ava stirred and looked up at me. "What is it?" "Stay here," I answered sternly, already changing into jeans and a shirt. The knocking became louder. Urgent. Relentless. My intuition sounded a warning. Something wasn't right. I rushed down the corridor, my pulse pounding, and wrenched the door open.Sophia was standing there with wild hair and a pale face, cl
Ava's POV The nursery floated about me, the beautiful blue background with silver stars fading into meaningless forms. My breath was hitched, shallow, and harsh. Two cradles. Two babies. Two cries. Both boys looked very similar. Curly, black hair. Fair skin. Tiny fists were waving aimlessly in the air. They both reached for me. Both called me "Mommy" in the only language a newborn understood: the searing, desperate howl of yearning. I took back a step, thudding against the dresser behind me. My legs threatened to give up. This was not possible. This was not real. But it was.Rachel's twisted reality, including drugs, hypnosis, and fabricated memories, had deeply rooted within me. I couldn't tell which child was truly mine. I reached for the first baby, "Liam," and he grasped my finger, strong and sure. The other baby sobbed louder, kicking his tiny legs as if begging me not to forget him. Tears blinded me. I was choosing a memory, a life.I could feel him, the magnetic pull
Ava's perspective The stillness in the room was louder than any cry. Two babies. One cradle. One memory. My hands trembled. "Say it again," I whispered. "You left me," the child repeated. His voice, ancient and resonant with agony, jarred something loose within me. I caught glimpses of terror. Blood on the hospital bed. Caleb's name was whispered once. Not Liam. Caleb. Damian Point of ViewThe air in the room felt dense, like if you were trying to breathe underwater. Ava stood frozen in place, her gaze fixed on the child that wasn't ours—or was supposed to be. The other baby, Liam, slept soundly in Rachel's arms on the threshold. What about the baby in the crib? He was awake. And he knew things. Things he shouldn't know. "You made a deal," the boy said softly, turning to face me. I froze. "What deal?" He tilted his head. "Forget her." "To forget me." Rachel Point of View The silence between Ava and Damian felt unsettling. "You need to take a step