The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir-Chapter 66: Meeting The Devil

Aria POV

Enjoying the park? It’s a beautiful day for a family outing. Perfect last memories before tonight.

Marcus. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

My blood ran cold. The phone’s screen blurred as my hands began to shake. I looked around wildly, scanning faces in the crowd, searching for anyone watching us. A jogger. A man with a newspaper. The woman feeding pigeons.

Damien noticed immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his voice sharp with instant alertness.

I showed him the phone, my arm trembling. I watched his jaw clench, his whole body going rigid with fury and fear. His fingers closed around the phone’s edge, knuckles whitening.

"He’s here," I whispered. "Somewhere in the park, he’s watching us."

"Noah," Damien called out."Come here, buddy. Time to go."

"But I didn’t finish telling you about the duck princess!" Noah protested, his small voice confused. Bread crumbs dusted his fingers.

"You can tell us in the car," Damien said firmly, already moving toward the parking lot. He scooped Noah up in one smooth motion, his muscles tense beneath his shirt. "Come on, we need to go home."

"Why?" Noah’s face crumpled, his lower lip trembling. "We just got here!"

"Because I said so," Damien snapped. The harsh tone made Noah’s eyes fill with tears that spilled down his round cheeks.

"Damien," I said softly, touching his rigid shoulder. "You’re scaring him."

He stopped mid-stride, visibly forcing himself to calm down. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. "You’re right. I’m sorry." He turned to Noah, his voice gentler now, though strain still threaded through it. "Buddy, something came up. Adult stuff. But we’ll come back to the park soon, okay? And we’ll spend the whole day with the duck king."

"Promise?" Noah sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Promise," Damien said, his voice breaking slightly. He kissed Noah’s forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat. "Now hold onto Mama while I get the car."

He handed Noah to me and strode toward the parking lot, his movements tight with controlled violence. Each step radiated barely contained rage. Security guards surrounded us, forming a protective barrier.

"Mama, why is everyone acting weird?" Noah asked against my collarbone, his breath warm on my neck.

"We’re just being careful, sweetheart," I murmured, holding him tighter. His small body fit perfectly against mine. "Like we talked about this morning. Remember?"

"Because of the shadow man," Noah said, burying his face in my neck. His voice muffled against my skin. "I hate the shadow man."

"I know, baby. I know," I whispered, breathing in the sweet scent of his shampoo.

The drive home was tense and silent. Noah fell asleep in his car seat, exhausted from the excitement and emotional whiplash. His head lolled to the side. Damien drove with white-knuckled intensity, checking mirrors obsessively. The leather steering wheel creaked under his grip.

"He’s escalating," I said quietly, watching streetlights blur past. "Getting bolder."

"He wants us rattled before tonight," Damien stated, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth. "Wants us scared and off-balance."

"It’s working," I admitted, my voice hollow.

"I know." He glanced at me, his eyes dark with worry. "Aria, we don’t have to do this. We can still call Agent Martha, set up a proper operation."

"And risk him disappearing and making good on his threats?" I shook my head, feeling the weight of the decision. "No. We end this tonight."

"Even if it means walking into a trap?" he pressed, his voice rough.

"Even then," I said firmly.

We pulled into the driveway, gravel crunching under the tires. Security was everywhere—on the roof, at the gates, patrolling the grounds with weapons visible. The house looked more like a fortress than a home.

Damien carried sleeping Noah inside, heading straight up to his room. I followed, our footsteps muffled on the carpet. We entered the darkened room where Noah’s nightlight cast soft stars across the ceiling. Damien carefully laid our son in bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin, tucking it around his small shoulders.

"He looks so peaceful when he sleeps," Damien whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Like nothing bad has ever touched him."

"But it has," I said, standing beside him. Both of us watched Noah breathe, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. "Marcus touched him. Traumatized him. And tonight we make sure he can never do it again."

"Tonight," Damien agreed. He straightened, his hand finding mine in the dimness of Noah’s room. His palm was warm, slightly rough.

"Whatever happens," he said quietly, his thumb tracing circles on my skin, "I need you to know something."

"Damien" I started, my throat tightening.

"Let me finish," he interrupted, turning to face me. "These last few weeks, having you and Noah back in my life, even with all the chaos and danger—they’ve been the happiest I’ve been in years. Maybe ever."

Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and insistent. "This isn’t the time."

"It’s exactly the time," he insisted, his voice cracking. His free hand cupped my face, rough fingers gentle against my cheek. "Because if something goes wrong tonight, Marcus" His voice broke completely. "I need you to know that you and Noah are everything to me. That I love you both more than my own life. And that if I don’t make it"

"Stop," I choked out, pressing my fingers to his lips. "Don’t talk like that."

"Aria" he tried again.

"No." I was crying now, hot tears streaming down my face and dripping off my chin. "You don’t get to say goodbye. You don’t get to prepare me for losing you. We’re both walking out of that warehouse tonight. Both of us."

"You can’t promise that," he whispered against my fingers.

"Watch me," I said fiercely, my voice shaking. I grabbed his shirt, the fabric bunching in my fists, pulling him closer. "Because I didn’t survive all these years alone, didn’t build an empire and raise our son, just to lose you now. You’re not allowed to die, Damien Blackwood. You still have too much groveling to do."

He laughed, wet and broken, the sound catching in his throat. "Is that right?"

"Yes," I said, shaking now from fear or anger or something else entirely. My whole body trembled. "You owe me years of good memories. Years of being the man you should have been. So you better survive tonight, because I’m not done being angry at you yet."

"Angry at me?" His thumb brushed away my tears, the touch achingly tender. "That’s what you’re leading with?"

"Among other things," I admitted, unable to look away from his eyes, blue and intense in the darkness. "I’m also... I might be... there might be feelings. That isn’t just anger."

"Aria, are you saying—" he breathed, hope threading through his voice.

"I’m not saying anything," I cut him off, stepping back before I could do something stupid like kiss him. "I’m just telling you that you better not die tonight. Because we have things to figure out. Important things."

"What kind of things?" he asked, his voice dropping lower.

"Things I’m not discussing in our son’s bedroom while he’s sleeping," I said, moving toward the door. My legs felt unsteady. "Now come on, we have a trap to plan for."

I made it two steps before Damien caught my wrist, his fingers wrapping firmly around it. He spun me back around, and I stumbled slightly into his chest.

"Just one thing," he said, his voice rough and desperate. His breath ghosted across my face. "Before tonight, before we walk into whatever fresh hell Marcus has planned—I need to know. Do I have a chance? Any chance at all?"

I looked at him—really looked at him. At the man who’d destroyed me and was now desperately trying to rebuild what he’d broken. At the father who’d give anything to protect his son. At the person who somehow, despite everything, still made my heart race and my breath catch.

"Maybe," I whispered, the word barely audible. "Ask me again when this is over."

"When this is over," he promised, his eyes blazing with determination, "I’m going to ask you every day until you say yes."

"Yes to what?" I asked, my pulse thundering in my ears.

"Everything," he said intensely, his grip on my wrist tightening. "To being a family. Trusting me again. To love me again." He paused, vulnerability flooding his expression. "Did you? Love me? Back then?"

I could lie. In fact, I should lie and keep that last piece of my heart protected behind its walls.

But after everything, didn’t we deserve honesty?

"Yes," I said quietly, the confession tearing out of me. "I loved you. Every cold, dismissive, emotionally unavailable inch of you. And it destroyed me when you threw it back in my face."

His whole body shuddered, a tremor running through him. "Aria."

"But that was years ago," I continued, pulling free of his grip. "That girl is gone. And I don’t know if this version of me can love anyone after what I’ve been through."

"Then I’ll teach you," he said, following me into the hallway. The floorboards creaked under our weight. "I’ll show you that love doesn’t have to hurt. That trusting someone doesn’t make you weak. That letting me in won’t destroy you again."

"You can’t promise that," I said, my voice wavering.

"No," he admitted, his footsteps steady behind me. "But I can try. And I can spend every day proving that this time is different. That I’m different."

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly it ached in my chest like a physical pain.

But belief required trust. And trust required time.

Time we might not have if tonight went wrong.

"Damien?" I stopped at my bedroom door, my hand resting on the cool brass handle. "If things go badly tonight"

"They won’t," he interrupted firmly.