LOGINNikolai's arms tightened around her, like he was afraid to let go.She held him, steady and quiet, while her mind waged a war she refused to acknowledge out loud.Because somewhere, deep down, a dangerous thought flickered despite her resolve.That Damian was hurting too.That he was not the man he had been.That he might never be.She pushed it away immediately.Sympathy was a door she could not afford to open.She had escaped once.She would not risk her son by stepping back into a life that had already taken too much from her.Sera stayed there on the bed with Nikolai until his breathing evened out completely, until the tension eased from his small frame.Only then did she allow herself to exhale.And even then, Damian Blackwell’s name lingered in the back of her mind like a pulse she refused to check.Later that day, the living room glowed softly with afternoon light, curtains half drawn, the television casting moving colors across the walls.Nikolai sat curled into the corner of
Sera sat on the edge of the bed, studying his face the way she studied patients when something didn’t add up. His eyes weren’t glassy. His breathing wasn’t labored. His posture wasn’t defensive.Physically, he was fine.Which meant this wasn’t physical.“Did you sleep,” she asked.He hesitated.Then nodded. “Yeah.”That hesitation told her everything and nothing.Sera exhaled slowly, forcing herself to soften. “Talk to me.”“I’m okay,” he repeated, but his voice cracked just enough to give him away.She reached out, brushing his hair back gently. “You don’t sound okay.”He swallowed.She waited.The silence stretched, fragile.Finally, Nikolai turned fully toward her and did something he hadn’t done in a long time.He reached for her.Wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his face into her side, holding on tightly, like he was afraid she might move.Sera’s breath caught.She pulled him closer instantly, one arm around his shoulders, the other resting protectively on his back.
A tear slipped out before he could stop it, soaking into the pillow.He scrubbed at his face angrily, embarrassed even though no one was watching.“Stupid,” he muttered. “You’re stupid.”He reached for the phone again, hesitated, then set it back down. He didn’t want to bother Damian. What if calling again just proved he was clingy?The thought made his chest ache even more.He curled in on himself, arms wrapped tight around his middle, trying to make himself smaller, quieter, easier to forget.He hadn’t realized when it happened.When the calls stopped feeling like a fun secret and started feeling like something he needed.When Damian stopped being just a friend and became… steady. Constant. Someone he expected to be there the same way he expected the sun to rise.That realization scared him.He sniffed quietly, staring at the dark room.“I won’t do it again,” he whispered, not sure who he was promising. “I’ll be better.”The phone stayed silent.Outside, the city lights glowed faint
The realization hit harder than any insult ever had.His lips curved.Just slightly.Unintentionally.A smile.Soft.Foolish.For a brief, unguarded second, Damian Blackwell looked like a man who had forgotten where he was.The head of security noticed first.He paused mid step, eyes flicking to Damian’s face, brow creasing in confusion.Then another guard noticed.And another.One by one, the men who had followed Damian through bloodshed and war, who had watched him break bones without blinking and bury grief under violence, caught sight of it.The smile.It stunned them into silence.No one spoke.No one dared.Because none of them had ever seen Damian look like this.He stared ahead, lost in a thought none of them could access, the faint curve of his mouth still there as if he didn’t even realize it.A man who ruled empires.Smiling.Like an idiot.Like a man thinking about a child.The jet doors closed with a soft hydraulic hiss.The sound should have pulled him back.It didn’t.D
The word cheap was never spoken aloud, but it hung in the air with every dismissal.When the room finally fell silent, everyone looked at Damian.Waiting.He stared down at his hands for a moment, then lifted his gaze.“These,” he said calmly, “are not bad ideas.”A ripple of relief passed through the room.“But they’re still thinking too small.”The relief vanished.He wheeled himself forward slightly, positioning himself squarely at the head of the table. The subtle shift commanded attention immediately.“You’re all approaching this like it’s a gift,” Damian continued. “It’s not.”The room stilled.“It’s an investment.”Confused looks exchanged quietly.“A boy like him,” Damian said, voice steady, “does not need entertainment. He needs an environment.”No one spoke.“He notices details. Patterns. Systems,” Damian went on. “He thinks in frameworks, not moments. You don’t give that kind of mind something to outgrow.”The older maid frowned slightly. “Sir… he is six.”Damian’s gaze fli
Damian watched from the edge of the hangar as his men moved with practiced efficiency around the jet.Black cases were lifted, catalogued, slid into place. Garment bags disappeared into the cabin. Medical equipment was secured separately, handled with more care than the weapons that followed. His wheelchair was already positioned near the ramp, custom straps waiting.Russia was on the flight plan.The date glowed on the tablet in his hand.Nikolai’s program was close. Too close to reschedule anything else around it.“Everything will be ready within the hour,” his head of security said, falling into step beside him. “Weather is clear. Clearance confirmed.”Damian nodded. “Good.”He dismissed the man with a flick of his fingers and wheeled himself closer to the jet, gaze lifting briefly to the open door. He should have felt focused. Strategic. Instead, a different thought surfaced, uninvited.Six.The boy would be six.The realization landed oddly in his chest.He had missed five birthd







