Aurora barely slept that night.
She sat curled up on the couch long after Noah drifted off, staring at nothing, mind looping through the moment Damien had said those four damning words:
"He's my son."
Not Is he?
Not Could he be?
He knew.
And now everything she had protected was exposed.
Her world, her rhythm, her carefully constructed life—it was all hanging by a thread.
When her phone buzzed just past midnight, she didn't have to check the screen to know who it was.
Damien: We need to talk. No lawyers. No excuses. You owe me that much.
She didn't reply.
Because he was right.
---
The next morning, Aurora stood in the corner booth of a quiet café on the Upper West Side. It was one of her safe places—neutral territory. A place Damien Blackwood had likely never set foot in.
Until now.
He walked in exactly at 8:02 a.m., dressed in a black tailored coat, his expression unreadable but his eyes locked on her like a man walking into battle.
He didn't sit right away.
"Why this place?" he asked.
"I wanted somewhere he doesn't know. Somewhere not tied to my work, or to you." She paused. "Somewhere I can breathe."
He slid into the seat across from her. "I can work with that."
They stared at each other for a long beat. Neither touched the coffee in front of them.
Damien spoke first. "You should have told me."
"I know," she admitted softly. "But I was scared. I still am."
"You think I'd hurt him?" His voice held a jagged edge.
"No," she whispered. "I think you could own him."
Damien flinched—barely. But it was there.
"You're used to control," she said. "To getting what you want. And Noah... he's not a boardroom. He's not a deal to be brokered."
Damien leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers. "You think I don't know that? I'm not trying to buy him, Aurora. I'm trying to find out who he is. What I've missed. What you kept from me."
She swallowed hard. "What are you going to do?"
He hesitated. "That depends on you."
Her breath caught.
"I want to be part of his life," he said. "But I'm not going to drag him through a custody battle. Not yet. Not if you'll work with me."
Aurora blinked. "Work with you?"
"We start slow," Damien said. "Supervised visits. Days in the park. I meet him like a stranger, get to know him on his terms."
Her guard slipped a fraction.
"That's... not what I expected from you."
His voice softened. "He's five, Aurora. Not a stock share."
Something shifted in her chest. It wasn't trust. Not yet. But it was the first crack in the wall.
Damien leaned back. "But I need one thing in return."
She tensed. Of course there was a condition.
"You don't shut me out again. I want full medical records, school updates, holidays—equal say in the major stuff. You make space for me... or I'll take it."
There was the fire. The edge of the billionaire. The man who never accepted defeat.
Aurora met his stare. "You're giving me an ultimatum."
"I'm giving you a choice."
She studied him.
For five years, she had raised Noah alone. Every scraped knee. Every nightmare. Every birthday cake made from a box. But now, the other half of her son's DNA was sitting across from her—demanding a seat at the table.
And for the first time… she didn't feel completely alone.
"I'll agree to visits," she said quietly. "But if you scare him, if you push too hard—"
"I won't," he cut in. "I promise."
It wasn't a legal contract. But it felt heavier than any she'd ever signed.
---
Later that afternoon, Damien stood outside the little neighborhood preschool with a dozen other parents waiting for the bell. He wore a baseball cap pulled low, sunglasses covering most of his face.
He felt ridiculous.
But then the doors opened, and children poured out—and for a moment, the noise, the absurdity, the shadows of lawyers and boardrooms all faded.
Because Noah came running out, his backpack bouncing, arms wide.
Straight into her arms.
Damien stood back, watching, his chest tight.
Aurora caught her son and whispered something in his ear. He turned. Saw Damien.
And waved.
Not recognition. Not affection. Just a child's automatic wave to someone he'd seen before.
It was a start.
Damien raised his hand and waved back.
And in that quiet, simple gesture, something inside him shifted.
This wasn't a game.
This was his son.
And he was already falling in love with him.