Damian's Point of View
I had been restless since that night I saw that boy. Something about him had burrowed into my mind, refusing to leave. I couldn't explain it, but the moment I had looked at him, a strange feeling had settled deep in my chest—familiarity. Like I had seen him before, somewhere, in a dream, in a past I couldn't quite grasp.
I had told myself it was nothing. That it was just my mind playing tricks on me. But the nagging feeling wouldn't go away. Neither would Ava.
I had spent the past few weeks carefully studying her, searching for cracks in her carefully curated facade. I had seen how she smiled for the cameras, how she clung to me when the press was near—yet, behind closed doors, she was distant. Cold. Angry.
But there were moments—fleeting moments—where I caught something else in her eyes. Pain. Regret. Longing.
And then, there were the flashes.
They started small. A scent, a sound, a fleeting touch. Then came the images—fragments of a past that didn't quite fit into my reality.
Her laughter, soft and breathless in the dark. The warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips. The way she had once looked at me, like I was her entire world. I didn't remember those moments. But I felt them.
And it was driving me insane.
I was in my office when I overheard it. The door was slightly ajar, and I had been about to step out when I heard Ava's voice. She was speaking to someone—her tone hushed, urgent.
"You can't bring him here anymore, Olivia. It's too risky."
My body went rigid. Him?
"I know, I know," Olivia said, her voice softer, more cautious. "But he's asking questions, Ava. He's not stupid."
A long silence followed before Ava sighed heavily. "I know," she whispered. "I just—I'm not ready for him to know. Not yet."
My pulse quickened. My mind ran through every possibility, every logical explanation—until only one remained.
Her son. The boy from the gala. A sharp wave of something I couldn't name washed over me. My grip on the doorframe tightened.
How could she have a child I knew nothing about? A child she was desperate to keep hidden?
My entire world tilted on its axis. Because suddenly, the missing puzzle pieces started shifting into place. The timing of her disappearance. The way she had looked at me when we met again. The way she flinched at my touch, not just with hatred, but with something deeper—fear.
What the hell was she hiding? And why did I have the sickening feeling that this secret had something to do with me?
Ava's Point of View
I had made a terrible mistake. I should have been more careful. Should have known better than to talk about my son here, of all places, but it was too late now. The seed of suspicion had been planted, and knowing Damian, he wouldn't let it go.
I could feel it in the way he watched me. His gaze had changed. It was sharper now, more calculating. He was studying me, and the worst part? I wasn't sure if I was still in control, because being near him again was dangerous.
I had spent years preparing for this moment—for revenge. But the more time I spent around him, the harder it became to separate the past from the present.
Every time he touched me in public, my body betrayed me, remembering how it once felt to be his. Every time he looked at me with those piercing eyes, I had to remind myself that the man I had once loved no longer existed.
But sometimes, when his guard was down—when he wasn't the cold billionaire but simply Damian—I saw glimpses of the man I had fallen for. And that terrified me.
Because I couldn't afford to feel anything for him. Not when I was keeping such a terrible secret. I had barely stepped into my penthouse when my phone rang. I sighed, already knowing who it was.
"Dad," I answered, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"You need to come home." His voice was sharp, impatient. "Now."
I tensed. That wasn't a request. Something was wrong.
"Why?"
A pause. Then—
"Because your past is catching up to you, Ava. And this time, you won't be able to outrun it."
The line went dead. I stood there, my heart pounding, knowing that whatever was coming next would change everything.