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
Carmela stared at the message, her fingers tightening around the phone.This isn’t over.The words sent a sharp chill down her spine. She forced herself to read the next line again.You should have been smarter, Carmela.Her breathing grew uneven, and she swallowed hard. Her heart pounded against her ribs, the weight of the threat settling deep in her chest.“What’s wrong?” Lily’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.Carmela hesitated before locking her phone and looking up. “It’s nothing.”Lily raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Carmela.”Carmela exhaled, placing the phone down. “I just got a message.”Lily frowned. “From who?”Carmela hesitated. “Adrian.”Lily’s entire expression shifted, her jaw clenching. “That bastard—”“I don’t want to talk about it,” Carmela interrupted, rubbing her temples. “I just—I need to go to work. I need a distraction.”Lily gave her a long, searching look before sighing. “Fine. But if anything happens, you tell me.”Carmela nodded, though deep down
The Blackwood Estate wasn’t as cold and unwelcoming as Adrian had expected when he returned.It was worse.It was empty.The vast mansion, once filled with servants and advisors, now felt abandoned. The halls echoed with his footsteps as he descended the grand staircase, his hand running along the polished mahogany railing.Everything had changed in the twelve years he was gone.His father was dead.His empire had been handed to his younger brother.And Adrian was just a ghost of the past, struggling to reclaim what had once been his.But not for long.A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.His butler, an aging man who had once served their father, opened the door.Elena stood there, wrapped in a sleek red dress that clung to her curves, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. She stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, her heels clicking against the marble floor.“Well, well,” she purred, her lips curving into a smirk. “Adrian Blackwood. Alive and well.”Ad
Carmela walked alongside Lily, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the cool night air pressed against her skin. The city lights flickered in the distance, but the glow felt cold, distant—just like everything else.She was hollow.The loss of her child had left an ache inside her that wouldn’t go away.“I keep thinking it was my fault,” she whispered.Lily’s steps slowed. “Carmela…”“I drank that night,” Carmela continued, her voice barely above a breath. “I should have been more careful.”Lily turned sharply, grabbing her hand. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”Carmela swallowed hard, blinking against the burning in her eyes.“I just… I don’t know what to do now,” she admitted. “It feels like everything is falling apart.”Lily sighed, tightening her grip. “You’re not alone.”Carmela let out a soft, bitter laugh. “Aren’t I?” She shook her head, looking away. “Damion never wanted me. He hated me. And now…” Her throat tightened. “Now, there’s no baby tying me to him.”Lily
Lily let out a long sigh as she approached her apartment complex, rolling her shoulders to shake off the uneasy feeling that had settled over her since Carmela left. Something about Elena’s sudden appearance didn’t sit right with her.She was about to unlock the door when a shadow moved from the corner of her eye.Her pulse jumped.Then, the figure stepped into the dim light of the streetlamp.Damion.He was leaning against his sleek black car, arms crossed, eyes burning with something dangerous. His sharp suit was slightly wrinkled, his tie loosened—like he had been waiting for a while.Lily cursed internally.Before she could pretend she didn’t see him, he pushed off the car and strode toward her.“Where is she?”Lily tightened her grip on her keys, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Excuse me?”Damion’s expression darkened. “Don’t play games with me, Lily.”Lily swallowed but stood her ground. “She left.”Damion’s eyes narrowed. “With who?”Lily hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “El
Flashback – Twelve Years AgoThe Blackwood estate was always filled with noise. But not the noise of joy. Not the noise of laughter. It was the noise of power. Of discipline. Of fear.Inside the grand study, two young boys stood before a massive oak desk.Damion, barely thirteen, stood rigidly, fists clenched at his sides. Adrian, two years older, stood beside him, his face blank.Their father, William Blackwood, paced behind the desk, his sharp gaze shifting between them.He finally stopped, exhaling in disappointment. “You two are weak.”Neither boy flinched.William slowly approached, his fingers brushing over a silver knife resting on the desk. “You will never inherit this empire if you continue acting like children.”Damion’s throat tightened. “We’re not children.”William smirked. “Then prove it.”He grabbed Adrian’s arm roughly and shoved him forward. Adrian stumbled but quickly straightened. William turned to Damion. “Take the knife.”Damion hesitated. William’s gaze darkened.
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