Chapter 24 – Blood Calls to Blood

Daxton Stone did not raise his voice.

He never needed to.

The silence in his private study was heavier than shouting ever could be, thick with authority earned over decades. The antique clock on the wall ticked softly, counting seconds like a verdict being delayed.

“So,” Daxton said at last, cane resting against his knee, eyes fixed on his grandson, “you’ve decided to move my great-grandson out of the Stone estate.”

Damien Stone—stood tall, hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes.”

One word. Steady. Final.

Daxton’s eyes narrowed, sharp as steel. “You forget yourself.”

Damien didn’t flinch. “I remember myself. That’s the difference.”

The old man leaned forward slightly. “That boy carries the Stone name. He belongs under my roof.”

Damien met his gaze. “He belongs where he feels safe.”

The air shifted.

Daxton tapped his cane once. “And you believe that woman’s house is safer than mine?”

Damien didn’t hesitate. “I know it is.”

Silence stretched.

Then—unexpectedly—Daxton smiled.

Not kindly.

Not warmly.

But with interest.

“You’ve grown a spine,” he said. “She’s done that.”

Damien didn’t deny it.

“She’s given him peace,” Damien continued. “And she’s given me clarity. Aiden stays with May.”

Daxton’s expression hardened again. “You are defying me.”

“I’m choosing my son.”

The clock ticked louder.

Daxton exhaled slowly. “Then I will meet them.”

Damien frowned. “Meet who?”

“My great-grandchildren,” Daxton said calmly. “Both of them.”

Damien’s chest tightened. “Aria too?”

“Yes,” Daxton replied. “The girl I’ve heard so much about. If that woman intends to raise a Stone child, I will look her in the eyes—and I will look at the children she’s shaping.”

Merrick knew better than to refuse outright.

“I’ll arrange it,” he said carefully. “On one condition.”

Daxton raised a brow.

“You come as a grandfather,” Damien said. “Not a chairman.”

Something flickered in Daxton’s eyes.

Amusement.

“Very well,” he said. “But remember—blood always answers blood.”

May felt it the moment Damien walked into her house that evening.

Something was different.

Not heavy—focused.

“You spoke to him,” she said quietly, setting aside the book she’d been reading to Aria.

Damien nodded. “He knows Aiden isn’t going back.”

Aiden stiffened at the sound of it, eyes lifting.

May’s hand found his shoulder instantly. “You’re safe.”

Damien knelt in front of him. “Hey, buddy. No one’s moving you.”

Aiden searched his face. “Really?”

“Really.”

Only then did the boy relax.

May looked up at Damien. “And the cost?”

“He wants to meet them,” Damien replied. “Both of them.”

Aria’s eyes widened. “Meet who?”

“My grandfather,” Damien said gently. “He’s… intense. But he’s family.”

May studied Damien’s face, reading between the lines.

“He won’t make this easy,” she said.

“No,” Damien agreed. “But I won’t let him hurt them.”

Something softened between them then—unspoken trust settling quietly into place.

Later that night, when the children were asleep, Damien stood beside May in the kitchen.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said again—less guilt this time, more wonder.

May leaned against the counter. “You keep saying that.”

“And you keep proving me wrong.”

She met his eyes. “I’m not doing this for you.”

He nodded. “I know.”

“For them,” she continued. “And because… when you’re around, things feel steadier.”

Damien’s voice dropped. “That goes both ways.”

They stood there—not touching, but closer than before. The kind of closeness that didn’t demand anything.

Just existed.

Daxton arrived two days later.

The Stones’ motorcade was unmistakable, even in May’s quiet neighborhood.

Lily peeked through the window, eyes wide. “Sis… is he royalty?”

May smiled faintly. “Something like that.”

Aiden retreated slightly behind May’s leg.

Aria, on the other hand, stepped forward boldly.

When Daxton entered the living room, cane in hand, sharp gaze scanning everything, it was Aria who broke the tension.

“You’re very tall,” she said matter-of-factly.

Daxton blinked.

Then—astonishingly—he laughed.

A short, rusty sound, like it hadn’t been used in years.

“And you are very brave,” he replied.

Aria beamed. “I get that from my mum.”

May stiffened.

Daxton turned to her fully then.

So this was her.

Not bowed. Not nervous.

Calm. Grounded.

He studied her the way generals studied terrain.

“You raised them well,” he said finally.

May inclined her head slightly. “I love them well.”

The difference wasn’t lost on him.

Aiden watched from a distance, uncertain.

Daxton noticed immediately.

“Come here, boy,” he said—not sharply, but firmly.

Aiden looked to May.

She nodded.

He approached slowly.

Daxton crouched—an effort that surprised everyone.

“You have my eyes,” the old man said quietly.

Aiden tilted his head. “Mum says eyes don’t decide who you are.”

Daxton froze.

Then smiled—truly this time.

“She’s right.”

He reached out—not to grab, but to rest his hand briefly on Aiden’s shoulder.

Aiden didn’t pull away.

That was when Daxton knew.

He was already lost.

The afternoon passed strangely peacefully.

Aria climbed onto Daxton’s lap as if she’d always belonged there, chattering endlessly. He listened—really listened.

Aiden warmed slowly, then followed, sitting close enough for comfort.

Damien watched it all, stunned.

May noticed his expression.

“You didn’t expect this,” she said softly.

“No,” he admitted. “I didn’t think my grandfather remembered how to be gentle.”

May smiled. “Children tend to unlock doors we forgot existed.”

Daxton rose eventually, straightening his coat.

“They stay,” he said abruptly.

Damien stiffened. “You’re agreeing?”

Daxton looked at May. “For now.”

Then, to Aiden and Aria: “You will visit me.”

Aria clapped. “Okay!”

Aiden hesitated—then nodded.

Daxton’s gaze lingered on May one last time.

“You are not what I expected,” he said.

“Neither are you,” she replied calmly.

A corner of his mouth lifted.

As he left, Merrick turned to her.

“You just won a battle I’ve been fighting my whole life.”

May shook her head. “No. We did.”

He looked at her—really looked.

And something settled deep in his chest.

This wasn’t convenience.

This wasn’t attraction.

This was alignment.

And it was only growing stronger.