Chapter 7: The Lie That Felt Like Comfort

Tayla’s POV

I hated myself for thinking about it.

Yet the thought refused to leave.

What if Damian had lied?

The question followed me through breakfast.

Through Noah’s endless questions.

Through every room of the penthouse that still carried traces of my husband.

The man I loved.

The man I trusted.

The man who now sat behind bars while secrets continued to surface around him.

I stood in the kitchen staring at my untouched coffee.

The cup had gone cold nearly twenty minutes ago.

I didn’t even notice.

My mind was elsewhere.

Always elsewhere.

The memory of Luca’s words replayed endlessly.

“People believed Damian had another life.”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

No.

I refused to believe it.

Damian wasn’t perfect.

He could be stubborn.

Secretive.

Overprotective.

But unfaithful?

No.

Never.

Yet another voice whispered inside my head.

Then why did he hide so much from you?

My chest tightened.

Because that part was true.

The late nights.

The mysterious phone calls.

The business trips that suddenly became more frequent.

The conversations that ended whenever I entered the room.

I had ignored everything.

Trusted him completely.

And now…

I wasn’t sure whether that made me loyal or foolish.

A small pair of arms wrapped around my waist.

“Mommy?”

I looked down.

Noah.

His hair was messy from sleep.

His dinosaur pajamas hung loosely from his tiny frame.

The sight immediately softened my heart.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

His blue eyes looked up at me.

The same eyes as Damian.

That realization hurt more than it should have.

“When is Daddy coming home?”

There it was again.

The question neither of us could answer.

I crouched beside him.

Soon.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

The words sat on my tongue.

But none of them felt honest.

“I don’t know yet.”

His little face fell.

“Oh.”

God.

Children shouldn’t have to carry sadness like this.

I pulled him into my arms.

Holding him tighter than usual.

As if somehow I could protect him from everything happening around us.

As if love alone could stop heartbreak.

A knock interrupted the moment.

Three deliberate knocks.

My stomach immediately twisted.

I already knew who it was.

Luca.

Again.

Lately, he seemed to appear whenever I was falling apart.

Almost as if he knew exactly when I needed someone.

The thought should have comforted me.

Instead, it unsettled me.

I opened the door.

And there he stood.

Dark suit.

Expensive watch.

Perfect smile.

Everything about him looked effortless.

Unlike me.

Unlike my life.

Unlike the chaos consuming my family.

“Good morning.”

His voice was warm.

Familiar.

Safe.

Dangerously safe.

Noah immediately brightened.

“Uncle Luca!”

Luca bent down and caught him effortlessly as Noah launched himself forward.

A laugh escaped him.

Natural.

Comfortable.

Like this was exactly where he belonged.

Watching them together stirred something strange inside me.

Gratitude.

And guilt.

Because every day Luca seemed more present in Noah’s life.

And every day Damian seemed further away.

“You’re early.”

Luca smiled.

“I brought breakfast.”

Only then did I notice the bags in his hand.

Fresh pastries.

Coffee.

Noah’s favorite chocolate muffins.

My heart sank slightly.

Because Luca remembered things.

Small things.

The kind of details people noticed when they paid attention.

The kind Damian used to notice.

Before everything changed.

Before prison.

Before secrets.

Before lies.

If there were lies.

Luca walked inside as though the house already knew him.

And perhaps it did.

He’d spent years coming and going.

Family dinners.

Birthdays.

Holidays.

Back then I had never imagined feeling uncomfortable around him.

Now every interaction felt layered with something I couldn’t quite name.

Something beneath the surface.

Something waiting.

An hour later Noah sat at the dining table happily eating muffins.

For the first time in days, he looked genuinely cheerful.

That alone made me grateful.

Luca stood beside the window overlooking Manhattan.

His expression unreadable.

“You should take a break.”

I laughed softly.

“A break from what?”

“Everything.”

The answer came too quickly.

Too easily.

As if he’d been waiting to say it.

I shook my head.

“I don’t have that luxury.”

His gaze settled on me.

Careful.

Observant.

“You haven’t smiled in days.”

My throat tightened.

Because it was true.

I couldn’t remember the last time happiness felt real.

The last time I slept peacefully.

The last time my life made sense.

“I’ll survive.”

Luca’s eyes darkened slightly.

“You always say that.”

Something about his tone made me look up.

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Quieter.

More intimate.

“You don’t have to be strong every second.”

The words hit harder than expected.

Because everyone expected strength.

The lawyers.

The reporters.

The relatives.

Noah.

Everyone.

Everyone except Luca.

For a dangerous moment, tears burned behind my eyes.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

The confession escaped before I could stop it.

Silence followed.

Then Luca moved closer.

Not touching.

Never touching.

Just close enough.

Close enough to make me aware of him.

Close enough to make me uncomfortable.

Close enough to make my pulse quicken.

“You’re doing better than you think.”

His voice dropped lower.

Gentler.

And for one terrible second…

I wanted to believe him.

Wanted someone to tell me everything would be okay.

Wanted someone to carry the weight crushing my chest.

Wanted comfort.

Any comfort.

And that frightened me.

Because comfort was exactly how people became dependent.

Later that afternoon Luca drove us home after picking Noah up from school.

The city blurred past the windows.

Noah chatted happily from the backseat.

Meanwhile silence stretched between Luca and me.

Not awkward.

Worse.

Comfortable.

Dangerously comfortable.

Then Luca spoke.

“Did Damian ever tell you about the apartment downtown?”

My head turned sharply.

“What apartment?”

His expression changed instantly.

A flicker of regret.

Or the performance of regret.

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

Ice slid through my veins.

“What apartment, Luca?”

His jaw tightened.

And suddenly he looked reluctant.

As if he were protecting me.

As if revealing the truth hurt him.

The act was flawless.

“Noah’s here.”

My pulse spiked.

“What apartment?”

Luca sighed heavily.

Then looked away.

The perfect hesitation.

The perfect silence.

The perfect manipulation.

“I could be wrong.”

But by then the damage was already done.

Questions had been planted.

Doubt had taken root.

And doubt was far more dangerous than certainty.

Because certainty ends.

Doubt grows.

That night, long after Noah fell asleep, I sat alone in my bedroom staring at an old photograph.

Damian and I.

Smiling.

Happy.

In love.

The kind of love that felt unbreakable.

I traced his face with trembling fingers.

Trying to remember certainty.

Trying to remember trust.

Trying to remember the man I married.

Yet all I could hear were Luca’s words.

All I could see were Damian’s secrets.

And for the first time since his arrest…

I cried not because I missed him.

But because I no longer knew who he was.

Miles away, inside a prison cell, Damian sat awake staring at the concrete wall.

His fists clenched.

His jaw tight.

Because somewhere deep inside, he felt it.

The distance growing.

The connection weakening.

The woman he loved slipping further away.

And the man responsible was already sitting comfortably inside his home.