CHAPTER 23: BLOOD AND BOUNDARIES

Chloe stood just inside the penthouse doorway, one hand braced against the wall as Damian’s voice echoed down the hallway. His mother had shown up unannounced right after they returned from the board meeting, security trailing her with uneasy expressions.

“You’re throwing away everything your father built for this?” Mrs. King’s voice cut sharp and cold. “A temporary wife who was purchased for the sole purpose of producing heirs? She’s unfit, Damian. The board agrees. Sign the papers I brought and end this farce before it destroys the family name.”

Chloe stepped forward into the hallway, shoulders squared despite the ache in her lower back. “These are my babies too. I’m not some disposable vessel you get to throw away once they’re born. I carried them. I fight for them every single day while you poison everything around us. Get out of our home.”

Mrs. King’s gaze snapped to her, lips curling in open disdain. “Your home? Darling, you’re still the hired help who got lucky. Those children deserve to be raised in the proper King environment, not by someone who sells pastries for a living and traps billionaires with her body.”

Damian moved between them, voice low and dangerous. “Mother, I told you we’re done. Leave now or I’ll have security remove you.”

The older woman didn’t back down. She thrust the legal envelope toward him. “These papers challenge the validity of your little marriage. Irregular filing, conflicts of interest. The board will support it. Think of the twins, Damian. Real stability. Not this… experiment.”

Chloe’s chest tightened painfully. The stress clamped down hard around her ribs. One of the twins shifted sharply, then another kick followed by a sudden, stabbing cramp low in her belly. She gasped and grabbed the wall again, breath catching.

“Chloe?” Damian turned instantly, catching her elbow.

“Something’s wrong,” she managed, voice tight. “Sharp pain. The twins...”

He didn’t wait. He scooped her up despite her protest and headed straight for the elevator, barking orders at security. “Car. Now. Same private clinic. Call the doctor on the way.”

The ride to the hospital blurred in a haze of contractions that weren’t quite contractions and Damian’s hand gripping hers so hard it hurt. By the time they reached the secure wing, the cramps had eased slightly, but the fear remained lodged in her throat.

In the exam room, monitors hooked up quickly. The doctor ran scans while Chloe lay back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Damian paced at the foot of the bed, jaw locked, until the doctor finally spoke.

“Minor scare. Braxton Hicks amplified by stress. The twins are okay for now, but we need to keep her here overnight for monitoring. No more confrontations like that.”

Chloe nodded weakly. Once the doctor left, Damian pulled a chair right beside the bed and sat, never letting go of her hand. The room lights dimmed for the night. Machines beeped softly in the quiet.

“You scared me,” he said after a long stretch of silence. His thumb stroked the back of her hand in slow, steady circles. “When you grabbed the wall like that… I keep thinking about what my life looked like before you. Empty conference rooms. Cold dinners where my father measured my worth by quarterly numbers. My mother teaching me that love was a weakness to exploit. I built walls so high I didn’t even notice how alone I was. Then you walked into my office covered in flour and argued with me about medical decisions. You made me feel things I didn’t know how to handle. And now the thought of losing you or the twins…” His voice roughened. “It terrifies me more than any board vote or takeover. I’ve never told anyone that. Never let myself feel it. But with you, I can’t stop.”

Chloe turned her head on the pillow to look at him. The raw honesty in his eyes chipped away at the walls she’d rebuilt after the Sarah photos. She squeezed his hand back. “I’m scared too. Every day. But hearing you say that… it helps. A little.”

He stayed right there through the night. Nurses came and went. He fetched her water, adjusted her blanket, kept watch even when his own eyes grew heavy. Around three in the morning, when another small cramp hit, he whispered more—stories about his lonely childhood, admissions of how much he’d already changed because of her. Chloe listened, letting his voice wrap around her like a shield.

By morning, the monitors showed everything stable again. The doctor entered with fresh printouts, expression grave.

“The good news is the immediate scare has passed. But the medication traces are still showing up in your latest bloodwork. Levels suggest it’s still entering your system somehow. And our team found inconsistencies in the penthouse delivery logs. New evidence points to someone with direct access inside your home. The sabotage is no longer just coming from outside.”

Chloe’s hand flew to her belly. She stared at Damian, the words sinking in like ice. Someone inside the penthouse. Their supposed sanctuary. The place where they’d started to build something real.

The betrayal felt closer than ever.

********

Damian stood in the sterile hospital corridor, back pressed against the cool wall, the doctor’s words still drilling into his skull. The sabotage wasn’t just inside the clinic anymore. It had followed them home. Someone with direct access to the penthouse was slipping medication into Chloe’s system. Their supposed safe haven had been compromised from the inside.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the head of security before the echo of the doctor’s footsteps faded. “Full sweep of the penthouse. Every room, every delivery, every staff member who’s been inside in the last month. Tear it apart. I want hidden devices, tampered food, anything. Do it now. We’re not going back until it’s clean.”

“Already mobilizing the team, sir,” the man replied. “We’ll have preliminary results in two hours.”

Damian ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket so hard the fabric strained. His hands flexed at his sides, the urge to control every variable surging through him like fire. He wanted to lock the entire building down, fire every employee with even a distant connection to his mother, and stand guard outside Chloe’s door himself. But he knew pushing too hard right now would only drive her further away.

He stepped back into the room. Chloe sat up in the hospital bed, arms wrapped around her belly, staring at the monitors like they might lie to her. Her shoulders were hunched, her eyes distant. She hadn’t said much since the doctor left.

“They’re checking the penthouse,” he said, keeping his voice even as he sat in the chair beside her bed. “We’ll stay at the secure location until it’s clear.”

Chloe nodded once, but her gaze stayed fixed on the wall. “Someone in our home. The place where I sleep. Where I bake. Where we…” She trailed off and pulled the blanket higher, creating a physical barrier between them. “How do I know it’s not one of your staff? Or someone you hired? How do I know it’s not you still trying to control the outcome?”

The accusation hit like a slap. Damian leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You think I would poison you? After everything? After I cut off my own mother?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.” Her voice stayed flat. She shifted away from him on the bed, turning slightly toward the window. “Every person around us has an angle. Sarah sold me out. Your mother keeps coming. Marcus leaks everything. Now someone inside our walls. I question everyone. Even you. Especially when you go into CEO mode and start ordering sweeps and relocations like I’m part of the assets again.”

He exhaled slowly, fighting the instinct to argue, to list every action he’d taken to protect her. Instead he stayed quiet for a long moment, watching the way her fingers pressed protectively into her belly. “I get it. You have every right to question me. I’ve given you reasons. But I’m trying, Chloe. I’m fighting my own instincts every day not to lock everything down and handle it alone. Because I see what that does to you. And I don’t want to lose what we’re building.”

She didn’t respond right away. The silence stretched, broken only by the steady beeps of the monitors. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter. “I just want to feel safe somewhere. For five minutes.”

The doctor cleared them for discharge a few hours later with strict rest orders. They transferred to the secure alternate location. a smaller, heavily guarded apartment on the other side of the city that only a handful of people knew about. Chloe moved through the new space like a ghost, checking every cabinet and corner before settling on the couch with her arms around her belly again. She barely spoke as staff brought in fresh, vetted supplies.

Damian gave her space most of the evening, working from the second bedroom while security updates came in. But the distance gnawed at him. Around eleven, he found her in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a mixing bowl even though she looked exhausted.

“You should be resting,” he said softly, stepping into the room.

“Can’t sleep.” She stirred the contents without looking up. “Too many thoughts.”