A Father's Guilt

Damien's POV

It was already past eleven at night. I finally returned from Isabella's place.

But the house felt different the moment I stepped through the front door.

Colder somehow.

I shrugged out of my suit jacket, my hand automatically holding it out for someone who should have been waiting.

But there was only empty air.

My arm hung there for a moment.

Then I realized what I was expecting.

Elara.

She was always there when I came home, no matter how late. Always ready with that patient smile. Taking my coat and hanging it carefully in the hall closet.

"Mrs. Hector?" I called out.

I draped my jacket over the chair instead.

The elderly housekeeper appeared from the kitchen.

She was drying her hands on a dish towel.

"Where's my wife?" I asked. I loosened my tie.

"Mrs. Blackwood hasn't come home all afternoon, sir," she replied. "And I haven't seen little Lily, either."

I frowned. It was past Lily's bedtime. Where could they have gone?

Then it hit me.

Of course.

After what happened this afternoon with Isabella and the pool incident, Lily was probably scared. Afraid I was angry with her for being so careless around our guest.

Elara had probably taken her somewhere to avoid facing me. Maybe to her friend Sarah's house.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Elara's number.

It rang several times before going to voicemail.

"Mrs. Hector," I said.

I slid my phone back into my pocket. "Do you know where my antacids are? I drank too much at dinner."

The housekeeper looked puzzled. "I'm sorry, sir. Mrs. Blackwood always handles your medicines. I wouldn't know where she keeps them."

"Then could you make me some of that porridge? The one that settles my stomach?"

"Of course, sir."

Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Hector brought me a bowl of porridge.

I took one spoonful and immediately noticed something was wrong.

It tasted different. Bland.

Nothing like what I was used to.

"This doesn't taste right," I said. I pushed the bowl away.

Mrs. Hector looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't actually know how to make it the way you like it."

"What do you mean? You've been making it for years."

"No, sir." She shook her head. "Mrs. Blackwood makes your porridge herself. Every single time. She has her own special recipe. Adjusts the seasoning just for your taste. I've never made it before."

I stared at her.

Something cold was settling in my chest.

"Elara makes it? Herself?"

"Yes, sir. She makes it fresh whenever you need it. Usually takes her about an hour because she cooks it slowly, the way you prefer."

The realization hit me like a physical blow.

All these years, I'd assumed it was just part of the household routine.

Something Mrs. Hector handled as part of her duties. I'd never given it a second thought.

But Elara had been doing it herself.

Standing in the kitchen for an hour each time. Carefully preparing something to soothe my stomach when I came home unwell.

How many times had I taken that bowl of porridge without even thanking her?

How many small acts of care had I dismissed as mere obligation?

"She also prepares all your medications," Mrs. Hector continued. She seemed to sense my shock. "Organizes them by date. Makes sure you don't run out. She even keeps a chart tracking which ones work best for different symptoms."

I sat back in my chair.

The untouched porridge was growing cold in front of me.

Elara had been quietly taking care of me, maybe for six years.

But I'd never noticed. Never acknowledged.

And today, I'd threatened to take her daughter away from her.

The guilt hit me in waves.

I thought about Lily's face when I'd called her a mistake. The way she'd run to hide behind her mother, small and frightened.

She was just a child. Five years old.

She didn't understand the complexity of adult relationships or the circumstances of her conception.

And I'd taken all my frustration about my forced marriage, all my resentment about losing Isabella. I'd taken it all out on an innocent little girl.

What kind of man did that make me?

I stood up abruptly. I paced to the window.

Outside, the manicured gardens were bathed in moonlight.

Everything looked perfect and peaceful.

But inside, I felt like a stranger in my own life.

The truth was, Elara had never been the problem.

She'd been dealt the same impossible hand I had. Forced into a marriage neither of us wanted.

But while I'd spent six years nursing my anger and resentment, she'd tried to make the best of it.

She'd been a good wife.

Patient. Caring. Never demanding more than I was willing to give.

And she was an excellent mother to Lily.

I could see that, even through my own complicated feelings. The way she protected our daughter. Advocated for her. Loved her unconditionally.

Lily adored her mother.

And honestly, Elara deserved that adoration.

So why had I been so cruel to both of them today?

Because I'd been caught off guard. Because Isabella's return had stirred up old emotions I thought I'd buried. Because seeing them together had made me defensive about my choices.

But that wasn't their fault.

I pulled out my phone and called my assistant Marcus.

"Mr. Blackwood? It's quite late, sir."

"I need you to find something for me. A gift for Lily. Something special. A doll, I suppose. Something pink... I imagine that's what a five-year-old girl would love."

"Of course, sir. May I ask what the occasion is?"

I paused. I stared at my reflection in the dark window.

"I need to apologize to my daughter."

The words felt strange in my mouth.

When was the last time I'd thought of Lily as my daughter?

Not just Elara's child or a consequence of my forced marriage?

"I'll have something delivered first thing in the morning, sir."

"Thank you, Marcus."

After I hung up, I found myself thinking about Lily's small face. Her dark eyes, so much like her mother's. The way she'd looked at me with such hope whenever I came home. As if she was always waiting for me to notice her.

A warmth I hadn't expected spread through my chest.

She was a beautiful child. Sweet and innocent.

And she was mine.

For years, I'd held her at arm's length because looking at her reminded me of what I'd lost. Every time I saw her, I thought about Isabella crying when she'd learned about the pregnancy. About the promises I'd made that I couldn't keep.

But that had been unfair to Lily. None of it was her fault.

And now... now Isabella was back.

She understood the situation.

She knew about my obligations. About the family I'd been forced to create.

Now that Isabella was back in my life, I didn't have to feel guilty about caring for Lily. I could be the father she deserved without feeling like I was betraying the woman I loved.

Isabella was generous enough to accept this part of my life. She'd even offered to help with Lily. To be part of our family dynamic.

For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.

With Isabella back where she belonged, I felt I could handle everything else with a clear head. I could be the husband Elara deserved and the father Lily needed.

Balance. That's what had been missing from my life.

Now, finally, I could have it all.

I finished my cold porridge, not tasting a single bite.

I headed upstairs to bed.

Tomorrow would be different. Tomorrow I would start being the man I was supposed to be.

As I passed Lily's room, I paused at her closed door.

Behind it was my daughter. My beautiful, innocent daughter who deserved so much better than I'd been giving her.

"Sweet dreams, princess," I whispered to the empty hallway.

Tomorrow, I would make her smile. Tomorrow, I would be her daddy, for real.

The thought filled me with a warmth I hadn't felt in years.

Everything was going to be perfect.