CHAPTER 24: WATCHED

He moved beside her and took the spoon from her hand, taking over the mixing. “Let me help.”

They worked quietly for several minutes. Finally he set the spoon down and turned to face her fully. “Chloe, look at me.”

She did, eyes guarded.

“I’m falling in love with you,” he said, the words rough but steady. “Not the contract, Not the image or the heirs or the protection. You. The woman who calls me on my bullshit, who builds something real with her own hands, who loves those babies so fiercely it makes me want to tear down every wall I’ve ever built. I want this marriage to be real. The life we’re building. All of it. I’m terrified of losing you, but I’m more terrified of going back to the empty version of myself I was before you walked into my office.”

Chloe’s breath caught. Her hand moved to her belly, then slowly reached out to rest on his arm. She didn’t pull away. The touch lingered, warm and tentative, like a bridge neither of them had fully crossed yet.

Before she could respond, his phone rang. The head of security. Damian answered on speaker.

“Sir, we found something in the sweep. A hidden camera. Small, professional grade. It was in the vent of Mrs. King’s bedroom. Active until we shut it down an hour ago.”

Chloe’s hand dropped from his arm. Her face went pale as she stared at the phone, then at him. The violation hit them both at once. Someone had been watching her sleep. In their home. In her most private space.

*********

Chloe stood frozen in the middle of the new secure apartment’s living room, staring at the frozen image on Damian’s laptop screen. The small black device from the vent in her old bedroom stared back at her like a living eye. Security footage played on loop, her sleeping form under the covers, turning restlessly, one hand always resting on her belly even in sleep.

“Someone’s been watching me sleep?” Her voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper at first, then rising sharp. “In my room. While I was changing. While I cried after those Sarah photos. While I was vulnerable with the twins. How long, Damian? How long has someone been recording me like some fucking zoo animal?”

Damian closed the laptop with a snap, his shoulders rigid. “We don’t know exactly yet. The tech team is pulling the data. But it was active for at least three weeks. Professional grade. Someone with access to the penthouse planted it.”

Chloe’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She paced three steps, then turned back, breathing fast. “Three weeks. I want everything you know. No holding back. No more of your ‘I’m protecting you’ bullshit. Tell me who could have done this. Your staff? The cleaning crew? Someone your mother still pays?”

“I’m telling you everything I have,” he said, stepping closer but stopping when she backed up. “The camera was wired into the building’s system but routed externally. We’re tracing the signal. My mother’s people or Marcus, likely both. But no one gets near you again. We’re staying here until the full sweep is done and the new security protocols are locked.”

She rubbed her hands over her face, then dropped them. “Another move. Another place I don’t know. Fine. But my bakery is falling apart while we hide. The manager texted me an hour ago, two more suppliers backed out after the latest scandal. They’re scared of the King name now. We’re going to lose the big corporate holiday orders if this keeps up. That’s my business, Damian. My life. Not just yours to manage.”

“I’ll fix the suppliers,” he started, then caught himself. He exhaled hard and ran a hand through his hair. “No. You tell me what you need. I’ll make calls, but you lead. This is your call.”

Chloe nodded once, tight. They packed what little they had and transferred again under heavy guard to yet another location—this one a quiet brownstone in a secured Brooklyn block closer to her bakery. The new place felt smaller, more lived-in, with actual windows that showed real streets instead of glass towers. She walked through every room twice, checking closets and vents herself before finally sitting on the edge of the bed in the master room.

Damian lingered in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “You okay?”

“No.” She looked up at him. “I’m not. I feel violated in my own skin now. Like nothing is private. My exes made me feel unworthy because of my body. Your mother made me feel bought. Now this? Someone watching me at my lowest moments. How do I come back from that?”

He crossed the room slowly and sat on the bed a careful distance away. “My wounds aren’t the same as yours, but they’re there. Growing up, every hug had a price. Every conversation was a test. My father would praise me one day and tear me down the next to ‘build character.’ My mother taught me never to show weakness because people would use it. I learned to control everything so no one could hurt me first. Then you showed up—plus-size, flour on your hands, arguing with me in my own office about rules and rights. You didn’t fit any plan. You broke through all of it. And for the first time, I wanted someone to see the real me. The scared, controlling mess underneath. I’m sorry I let my world touch you like this.”

Chloe shifted closer on the bed. Her hand reached out and rested on his knee. “I see you. The man who stayed all night in the hospital. Who ate my burned cookies at midnight. Who’s trying to give me space even when it kills you. My exes never tried. They just left when it got hard. You stay. Even when I push.”

The space between them closed. Damian lifted his hand to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear she hadn’t noticed falling. Their foreheads touched. Then their lips met. soft at first, hesitant, then deeper as weeks of tension and fear and slow-burning want finally broke through. Chloe’s fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer. His hand slid to her waist, careful around her belly, holding her like she was something precious.

They broke apart breathing hard, eyes locked. No words. Just the weight of the moment settling between them.

Damian’s phone rang on the nightstand, shattering the quiet. He glanced at the screen and cursed. “Marcus.”

He answered on speaker.

“Enjoying the new hideout, brother?” Marcus’s voice came through smug. “Cute little brownstone. But I have something better. Turns out your precious Chloe wasn’t chosen at random. She has a secret connection to the King family. One that makes this whole surrogacy a setup from the very beginning. Step down before the vote or I spill every detail. The world deserves to know why she was really picked.”

The line went dead. Chloe stared at the phone, then at Damian, her hand still gripping his shirt.

“What connection? Damian, what the hell is he talking about?”