Damon And Elena Daughter Novels & Stories

Then the question she had been avoiding finally appeared. Who was the father? Adrian? Or Damian? The timing was too close. Too confusing. Too dangerous. Elena's hands moved to her stomach instinctively. A baby changed everything. Her future. Her plans. Her revenge. Everything. "Do you want to keep it?" Damian's voice was unusually gentle. Elena looked down at her stomach again. Despite the shock, despite the fear, her answer came immediately. "Yes." There was no hesitation. No doubt. This child was innocent.

He sacrificed me without a second thought. To him, eighteen years of history was so cheap it could be used as the punchline for a joke. The car's Bluetooth suddenly rang. The caller ID read: Isabella Luna. Damon's mother. The pack's Luna. I hesitated for a second, then answered. "Elena, dear." Her voice was soft and elegant, carrying the natural authority of a Luna. Just like every time she'd shown her "concern" for me over the past eighteen years. "Damon told me you left the academy?"

"Thousands of children suffered because one woman couldn't accept being told no." The statement hung heavily in the air. Then Damon finally asked the question that had haunted him for years. "Why me?" The room became silent. Sophia looked directly into his eyes. Really looked at him. Not as a weapon. Not as a project. Not as an experiment. As her grandson. Then she smiled sadly. "Because you're Elena's son." Damon froze. Sophia continued. "Vale spent decades trying to recreate my daughter." A pause. "And then you appeared."

"A lot of help." Dad follows my gaze. Studies Damian for a long moment. Then he nods. "Vargasin." He offers his hand. "Thank you. For protecting my daughter. For believing her. For everything." Damian takes his hand. "you may do the same what I did, so there is no need to thank me." Dad smile warmly. Dad looks at me. Then back at Damian. Something passes between them—an understanding, maybe. A silent acknowledgment. "There's more." Dad's voice shifts. "Elena's in maximum security now. No visitors, no communication. But before they transferred her, she managed to get one message out."

Damien sees my expression, takes the phone from my hand, puts it on speaker. "Rosalind, this is Damien Cross. Your daughter Elena has committed multiple felonies in the past seventy-two hours. She hired someone to stalk and harass Elara. She broke into my company's computer systems. She drugged a woman and used her to deliver threats..." "Those are very serious accusations," Dad's voice cuts in. "Do you have proof?" "We have wire transfers, communications, security footage...."

Damien's face went through several emotions before settling on something that looked like devastation mixed with fury. "You're Elena's daughter." He said it like a curse. "The woman my father talks about killing every time he gets drunk. The sister whose betrayal he sees as worse than any enemy's." "I didn't know." My voice shook. "I didn't know who she was or what family she came from. My father never told me anything about her past."

Damon still continued. “There’s something you don’t know. Something I have been trying to make you understand, even though I tried to tell you too late.” She took her eyes off the sky slowly, but she still didn’t turn to him. “You…” he whispered, the word cracking slightly, “you really are the woman from my dream, Elena.” Elena almost turned to him in surprise, but she held herself back. “The woman in a prophecy,” he continued, “the only woman destined to ever carry my child.”

From my penthouse office, I observed the world below, a kingdom I had built with blood and iron. A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Nikolai "Niko" Romanov, my trusted right-hand man, entered, his expression unreadable. "Damian," he began, "the arrangements have been finalized. The Vasilievs have agreed to the terms." I nodded, turning to face him. "And the daughter?" "Elara Vasiliev," he supplied. "She's... spirited." A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips. "Is that so?"

"Would you like to know the sex?" Elena squeezed Damian's hand, exchanging a look with him that needed no further words to confirm their shared answer. "Yes," she said. "Please." The technician smiled, adjusting the screen slightly. "Congratulations. You're having a daughter." The words landed with a warmth that spread instantly through Elena's chest, tears gathering unbidden as she turned to find Damian's own eyes suspiciously bright, his composed exterior finally, completely dissolved into open, unguarded joy. "A daughter," he repeated softly, disbelief and wonder mingling in his voice. "Elena, we're having a daughter."

“Here. Go ahead and check it out.” Elena glanced at the device with disdain. “Ha! What’s this… compensation money so I’ll stay away?” She sneered. “You’re so pathetic. You think I need your peanuts? Do you even know who my father is?” “Yes. Billionaire Hermes,” Damon replied flatly. “Now grab the phone and check it, you quacking duck.” "What did you call me?" "I am doing you a favor, I am not supposed to sit here and talk to you this long but you are just a spoiled little bitch with no direction. Now, will you look at that or not!"