The mansion was eerily quiet after Leonard left, leaving Damion standing in the dimly lit bedroom, watching over the woman sleeping soundly in his bed.Carmela’s face was peaceful, her chest rising and falling with each steady breath. The only indication of her earlier ordeal was the slight furrow in her brows, as if even in sleep, she was uneasy.Damion exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. Tonight had shaken him more than he cared to admit. Someone had drugged her drink. Someone had targeted her.And it made his blood boil.But before he could process anything further, Carmela stirred.Her lashes fluttered as she shifted, her breathing turning uneven. Then, without warning, she jolted up, her hand flying to her mouth.Damion immediately tensed.Carmela barely registered where she was before she stumbled off the bed, rushing toward the bathroom.It took Damion less than a second to react. He was already behind her, following as she pushed the bathroom door open and dropped t
Carmela slammed the bathroom door shut behind her, pressing her back against it as she tried to calm her racing heart.Her face was burning, and her fingers still tingled from touching Damion’s skin.She groaned, covering her face with both hands. What the hell was I thinking?She had woken up beside him. In his bed.And she had been touching his face like some love-struck fool.The worst part? He caught her.His teasing voice still rang in her ears. Enjoying the view?Carmela clenched her fists. “I swear I’ll kill him,” she muttered to herself, though she knew full well that she was more embarrassed than angry.Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the sink, splashing cold water on her face.Focus.She wasn’t supposed to be here. She wasn’t supposed to still be in this house.And yet, she had fallen asleep in his bed, again.How did things keep spiraling out of her control?A soft knock on the door made her tense.“Are you planning to stay in there forever?” Damion’s amused voice d
Carmela sat on the edge of the bed, gripping her phone tightly. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the message.Come get me.She hesitated, glancing toward the bedroom door. Damion had made it clear—she wasn’t allowed to leave. But she wasn’t his prisoner. She wouldn’t be.Before she could second-guess herself, she hit send.A moment later, the screen lit up.Lucas: On my way. Stay where you are.Relief flooded her.She quickly grabbed a hoodie from the closet and slipped it over her head. If she could just sneak out before anyone noticed—A knock at the door made her freeze.“Carmela.” Damion’s deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.She turned, swallowing hard. “What?”There was a pause before he spoke again. “I’ll be out for a few hours. Stay inside.”Her fingers curled into fists. “You don’t control me, Damion.”Silence. Then, in a lower voice, he said, “Don’t do anything stupid.”Her pulse spiked. Did he know?The sound of his foo
Carmela stood frozen by the window, her breath shallow as she watched the two men below.Damion. Lucas.Both waiting. Both watching.And both expecting her to choose.Her heart pounded against her ribs as her fingers gripped the windowsill.Lucas had come for her. He had answered her text without hesitation. And yet, now that he was here, standing his ground against Damion, a sick feeling churned in her stomach.She had started this.And she had no idea how to end it.Steeling herself, she turned away from the window, inhaling deeply before walking toward the bedroom door.One step at a time.Her legs felt like lead as she descended the grand staircase, her hands balled into fists at her sides.With every step, her mind screamed at her to stop.But her feet kept moving.By the time she reached the front door, her entire body was trembling.She pushed it open.The crisp evening air hit her immediately, cooling the sweat forming on her skin.Lucas and Damion both turned their heads at t
The silence inside the mansion was suffocating.Carmela had barely stepped through the front door when she heard the heavy click of it locking behind her.She didn’t need to turn around to know Damion was standing close, his presence like a shadow pressing against her.The tension between them was thick, electric.She had chosen to stay.Yet, she could feel the storm brewing behind Damion’s gaze.Taking a slow breath, she forced herself to move forward, but before she could take another step—“Why did you text him?”His voice was calm. Too calm.Carmela turned slowly, meeting his piercing gray eyes.There was no warmth in them, only cold calculation.She swallowed hard. “What?”Damion took a step closer. “You heard me.”She clenched her fingers into fists. “I—”But before she could even come up with an excuse, he was already stepping closer, his tall frame looming over her.“You wanted to leave,” he murmured, his voice lower now. “You called Lucas because you thought I’d never let you
Carmela stood in the center of the grand bedroom, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared at Damion in defiance.“You’re insane if you think I’m moving back here,” she stated firmly.Damion exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose before leveling her with a glare. “You don’t have a choice.”Carmela scoffed, throwing her hands up. “Oh, I don’t have a choice? Right, because you’re the almighty Damion Blackwood, and I’m just supposed to nod my head and obey.”Damion’s jaw ticked. “This isn’t about control, Carmela. It’s about survival.”She took a step closer, meeting his cold stare. “Whose survival? Because last time I checked, I’m not the one who has enemies.”Damion clenched his fists, his patience thinning. “You think my enemies won’t use you to get to me?” His voice was low, deadly.Carmela stiffened slightly but kept her expression unreadable.“I can take care of myself,” she muttered, though even she didn’t fully believe it.Damion let out a bitter chuckle, his g
Carmela had woken up to pain. She had slept over at Lily’s apartment so that the next day, she would return back to Damion’s with her luggages. A dull, twisting ache in her lower abdomen. At first, she had dismissed it, assuming it was the lingering aftereffects of the night at the bar. But then she saw the blood.Dark red stains on the sheets.Her heart had stopped.For a moment, she just stared, her mind refusing to process what she was seeing.Then, a sharp wave of panic crashed over her.“Lily!” Her voice came out hoarse, almost desperate.Within seconds, Lily burst into the room, her hair a mess, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “What? What’s wrong?”Carmela couldn’t speak. She just lifted the blanket slightly, exposing the stained sheets.Lily’s breath hitched.Then—“Get up. Now.”Carmela barely registered Lily throwing a coat over her before they rushed out of the house. The drive to the hospital was a blur of panic and dread.She didn’t even realize she was crying until she
Lily’s apartment was small but cozy, filled with the faint scent of vanilla from a burning candle on the kitchen counter. The dim lighting cast soft shadows along the walls, making the space feel warm, safe.But Carmela felt anything but safe.Her chest ached, her body weak from exhaustion and grief. She sat curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Lily sat beside her, rubbing soothing circles on her back, whispering reassurances that barely reached her ears.The weight of her loss sat heavy in her chest, pressing down like an anchor, drowning her in silent pain.Then came the knock.A hard, deliberate bang against the door.Carmela flinched, her fingers tightening around the blanket.Lily stood immediately, frowning. “Who the hell—”The knock came again, harder this time.Lily hesitated before walking to the door, unlocking it cautiously. The moment she cracked it open, the door was shoved wide, and he stepped inside.Damion.His presence filled the room instan
Isabelle’s POV The flashing blue and red lights outside my home were almost blinding, their glow casting distorted shadows across the walls. The tension that had held me captive for days still lingered, but Nathan was finally safe. He was asleep upstairs, his tiny body curled up under the blankets where he belonged. Yet, the weight in my chest refused to lift. A uniformed officer stood in front of me, his expression calm but probing. I knew they wanted answers—real ones—but I wasn’t ready to give them. I had my answers. I just couldn’t say them out loud. Damion. “Ms. Everett,” the officer began gently, flipping through his notepad. “I understand this has been an overwhelming situation, but we need to be sure we’re closing this case properly. Are you certain there’s nothing else you’d like to report? No new suspicions about who took your son?” I felt Damion’s presence behind me, lingering by the doorway, tense and silent. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding so loud it
Kaia’s POV The plan was unraveling faster than I had anticipated. When Damion stormed out after returning the boy, I knew things had shifted. I felt it in the way his voice trembled when he’d confronted me. The guilt. The hesitation. He was slipping away. And it was her fault. Isabelle. Always so righteous, so defiant, making him question everything I had carefully constructed. I paced the length of my penthouse, the sound of my heels echoing off the marble floors. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city glittered beneath the night sky, a perfect illusion of peace. But inside? Everything felt like it was closing in. Damion was supposed to be mine. I had done everything. Stood by him when his life crumbled. Cleaned up the mess after Isabelle abandoned him. I had been patient, understanding, even when he had made it clear she was still haunting him. And now? She was back, unraveling him piece by piece. And Walter—Walter was only making it worse. The call
Isabelle’s POV The house felt unbearably quiet without Nathan. Every tick of the clock on the wall seemed louder, each second pressing down on me with suffocating weight. The walls felt closer, the air heavier, the silence almost mocking. I sat curled on the couch, staring blankly at the framed picture of Nathan on the mantel. His bright smile, the way his eyes sparkled with innocence and trust—it was too much. Tears blurred my vision, but I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. Crying meant giving in to the fear clawing at my chest. It meant accepting the nightmare Walter had pulled me into. And I couldn’t break. Not when my son was out there, scared and alone. The sharp knock on the door jolted me out of my daze. My pulse spiked. I shot to my feet, half stumbling as I rushed toward the door. Please. Let it be the police. Let it be news. Let it be— I swung the door open, and my heart stopped. Damion stood there. And in his arms, cradled carefully, was Nathan. I couldn’t
Kaia’s POV It had all started with a whisper. The first time Damion had mentioned the child, I knew something was wrong. The way his voice caught when he asked about Nathan, the way his eyes lingered on the boy as if searching for a reflection of himself—it was like watching a man unravel in slow motion. And I couldn’t let that happen. Not again. Because I knew, deep down, that if Nathan was Damion’s son, everything I had worked for—the life I’d carefully built with him—would fall apart. So I did what I always did. I found a way to control the narrative. It hadn’t been difficult. Manipulation never was when you understood a man’s vulnerabilities. And Damion’s greatest vulnerability was his desperate need for closure. I hadn’t even needed to convince him. “It’s the only way,” I had whispered to him weeks ago, the night we’d sat in his study, the tension thick between us. “If she won’t tell you the truth, we have to find it ourselves.” And he’d agreed. But now, a
Isabelle’s POV The photograph trembled in my hands. Nathan—my sweet boy—blindfolded, vulnerable, and so far out of reach. The handwritten message beneath his image echoed in my mind. “You were warned. Now listen.” A cold knot twisted in my stomach. Walter. This was him. It had to be. I felt Damion’s presence behind me before I heard him speak. His voice was low, dangerous. “Let me see it.” I handed him the photograph with shaky fingers, my breath shallow. The moment his eyes scanned the image, his entire body stiffened. His jaw clenched so tightly I could hear his teeth grinding. The hand holding the photo curled into a fist, crumpling the paper slightly as his gaze darkened with rage. “Damion,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “What do we do? He’s my son. Our son—” “What?!” He turned sharply, his eyes burning with something unreadable. “Nathan is my son?!” I nodded nervously. I couldn’t lie to him anymore. It was for the best. He had to know the truth. If he’s
Isabelle’s POV The sound of shattering glass ripped through the house like a gunshot. “Nathan!” My heart seized, and without thinking, I bolted toward the kitchen. Damion was right behind me, his voice sharp. “Stay behind me, Isabelle!” I didn’t listen. All I could think about was my son—my baby. The kitchen window was broken, shards of glass glittering across the floor, but it was the open back door that made my blood run cold. The wind howled through it, carrying the sound of tires screeching in the distance. He was gone. Nathan. I stumbled forward, my breath catching painfully in my chest. “Nathan! Nathan, where are you?!” Silence. The kind of silence that leaves a void, the kind that makes you realize something precious has been stolen from you. Damion’s hands caught my shoulders, pulling me back as I shook uncontrollably. “Isabelle—stop! Stop! He’s not here!” His voice was rough but controlled, his grip anchoring me as I felt like I was falling apart.
Isabelle’s POV I stared at the message on my phone, the cold words burning into my mind. “You’re running out of time. Leave, or face the consequences.” Walter. I didn’t need proof. His fingerprints were all over this. The sudden sabotage of my contracts, the threatening text—it was his way of reminding me that I was nothing to him. That I was a problem he needed to erase. But the part that rattled me most wasn’t the threat itself. It was the fact that Walter knew I wouldn’t leave. Not this time. I set my phone down, inhaling deeply, fighting to steady my pulse. I wouldn’t be bullied. I wouldn’t let this man, or anyone else, push me out of my life. I had built everything from scratch. My business. My reputation. My home. But as I sat there, staring into the dimly lit living room, the ache in my chest was undeniable. Because I hadn’t just built this life for myself. I had built it for Nathan. The sound of his soft footsteps broke my spiral. “Mommy?” His sleep
Isabelle’s POV The morning came with a sense of foreboding I couldn’t shake. I’d barely slept, my thoughts consumed by Walter Ryder’s warning and the weight of his veiled threat. It wasn’t just his words that unsettled me—it was the way he delivered them. Calm. Cold. Unrelenting. Nathan’s laughter floated from the living room as I sipped my coffee, his innocent joy a stark contrast to the storm brewing in my mind. I glanced at my phone, the unread messages from Brian a reminder that my life wasn’t just a mess—it was a tangled web, and I was caught in the center of it. Stephanie’s call came just as I was about to head to the office. Her voice was rushed, almost panicked. “Miss Everett, we have a situation.” I gripped the phone tighter. “What is it?” “Three of our major clients have pulled out of their contracts this morning,” she said, her voice trembling. “No explanation. Just… gone.” The room tilted slightly, but I forced myself to stay calm. “All at once?” “Yes,” s
Isabelle’s POV Walter Ryder was a man whose presence lingered long after he left a room. Even now, as I sat in my office staring blankly at the door he had walked through, I could feel his cold, calculating gaze bearing down on me. His warning replayed in my mind, his words like shards of ice cutting through my resolve. “Take your son and disappear before Damion gets too close.” It wasn’t a suggestion—it was a threat. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. Walter Ryder had always been a puppet master, pulling strings from the shadows, and I wasn’t naïve enough to think his visit was just a courtesy call. He wanted me gone. He always had. But this time, I wasn’t running. Later that afternoon, I sat in my living room with Nathan, his laughter filling the space as he played with his toy cars. Watching him, I felt a pang of guilt. His innocence was a stark contrast to the storm brewing around us, and I hated that he was caught in the middle of it. “Mommy,” he