Morning light found Aria sleepless and anxious. She sat at the bay window of the master bedroom, wrapped in a silk robe, watching the sun struggle through a haze of gray clouds. Downstairs, she could hear faint voices—Damien talking with someone on the phone. He had been up early, coordinating with his security chief about Victor, she suspected.
After a few minutes, she heard Damien climbing the stairs. Aria rose to meet him at the doorway. He was already dressed in a crisp shirt and slate-gray suit pants, looking every bit the decisive CEO.
"Good morning," he said gently, sliding an arm around her waist. "Did you manage any sleep?"
Aria attempted a smile. "A little," she fibbed. In truth, her mind had raced all night—replaying Vivian's cruel advice and worrying about Victor's next move.
Damien studied her face, concern evident. He knew her too well to be fooled. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I have an update. My investigators tracked Victor's recent activity. He's been in contact with a tabloid reporter. Likely feeding them information as leverage."
Aria's stomach sank. So Victor hadn't given up. "Does that mean another article is coming out?"
"I won't let it." A steely edge underlined Damien's words. "We're compiling evidence of his extortion. Once we have enough, I plan to involve the authorities. With luck, we can stop him before anything more leaks."
Aria nodded, grateful for Damien's proactive stance. Yet a kernel of dread remained lodged under her breastbone. She hated that Damien had to divert so much energy to fighting off her blackmailer. Vivian's voice whispered in her mind: He'd never admit if something was dragging him down...
"Actually," Damien continued, "I have a meeting shortly with our legal team about this. It might take a couple of hours. Will you be alright here? I'll leave additional security in case Victor tries to make contact."
Aria forced her troubled thoughts aside and mustered a more convincing smile. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me—I'll probably just spend the morning with Noah."
"Alright." Damien squeezed her waist. He seemed reluctant to leave, his eyes searching hers. "I know yesterday was... a lot. Are you sure you're okay?"
For a split second, Aria nearly spilled everything—the poisonous doubts Vivian had planted. But she couldn't bring herself to burden him with that, not when he was already dealing with so much. Instead, she cupped his cheek and stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly. "I'm okay," she said. "Go. Do what you need to do. I'll see you at lunch?"
Damien smiled, though concern still lingered in his gaze. "Lunch," he agreed. He kissed her once more—a lingering, tender kiss—before he released her. "Call me if you need anything."
"I will," she promised.
Aria watched him depart, the echo of his footsteps down the hall punctuating the quiet house. As soon as he was gone, the reassuring mask she'd worn for him slipped from her face. She drew a shaky breath.
Her reflection in the window showed a pale, drawn woman—worlds away from the confident figure who had walked into the gala the night before. Vivian's words weighed heavily on her chest this morning. Maybe it was the exhaustion or the anxiety, but in the daylight they seemed even more logical. I'm hurting him by staying…
A buzz from her phone on the bedside table jolted Aria from her spiral of thoughts. She crossed the room and picked it up. A text from an unknown number glowed on the screen:
"Enough games. Meet me at the Old Mill Café in one hour. Alone. Or the next call I make will be to the biggest gossip rag in the city."
Aria's blood ran cold. There was no signature, but she didn't need one. Victor.
Her fingers tightened on the phone. Fury, fear, and desperation warred within her. How dare he? After everything, he still had the gall to threaten her—to threaten her family's peace. The Old Mill Café was a small coffee shop on the outskirts of downtown—quiet at this time of day. Victor clearly wanted a meeting out of the public eye.
She knew what Damien would say: forward the message to security, let his team handle it, do not engage. But something in Aria snapped into resolve. This needed to end now. With Damien out, if she could reason with Victor or give him what he wanted to make him disappear, maybe she could spare Damien further trouble. If it meant paying money, she would use her own small savings or beg her father—anything to close this chapter without dragging Damien through more mud.
And perhaps… a small voice whispered… perhaps if she solved this problem on her own, it would make the decision forming in her heart easier. If Victor was gone and the scandal laid to rest, Damien wouldn't have to fight any more battles for her. Then—when she eventually did what might be necessary—he would be free of her complications.
Aria's heart thundered with nervous energy. She quickly typed a reply: "Fine. 1 hour."
She dressed in a hurry, throwing on a simple blouse and dark jeans and pulling her hair into a low ponytail. As she crept downstairs, she peeked into the living room where Noah played with blocks under the nanny's supervision. Normally she would never slip out without telling someone, but she feared Damien's security detail might try to stop her if alerted.
"I'm stepping out for a bit, Alice," Aria said breezily to the young nanny on duty. "Just to run an errand."
The woman smiled. "Of course, Mrs. Blackwood."
No questions—Aria was grateful. She grabbed her purse and keys, and moments later she was driving herself into the city, hands gripping the wheel to keep them from shaking.
The Old Mill Café was nearly empty at mid-morning. Aria spotted Victor immediately through the front window. He had claimed a secluded corner table. Dressed in a charcoal suit and sipping a coffee, he looked perfectly composed—like a respectable businessman taking a casual break. But Aria saw the predatory gleam in his eyes as they met hers.
She forced herself inside. A bell chimed overhead, and Victor's gaze followed her as she walked toward him on legs that felt like lead.
"There you are," Victor drawled when she approached, as if they'd arranged a pleasant rendezvous. He didn't stand—hardly a gentlemanly move—but gestured to the empty chair opposite him. "Sit."
Aria settled into the chair, keeping her back straight and chin lifted, trying to project a confidence she didn't feel. "I'm here. What do you want?" she asked quietly.
Victor leaned back, studying her with a maddening smirk. "Straight to business, then. I've been thinking about our situation—what's in it for me if I keep your secret."
Aria's stomach flipped, but she maintained her composure. "And?"
"I could ask for cash," Victor mused, flicking his gaze over her simple outfit with mild disdain, "but I suspect you don't have much. No—I have something bigger in mind. Your husband has power and connections. I want a piece of that."
Aria's blood ran cold. "You want me to use Damien to enrich you," she said flatly. "Pull strings for you, get you a business deal?"
Victor spread his hands. "Exactly. One word from the lovely Mrs. Blackwood, and maybe I land a lucrative contract. Doors tend to open for the Blackwoods' inner circle."
Anger flared beneath Aria's fear. "That's why you're doing this? So you can network your way into wealth?" It was so petty, so small compared to the nightmare she'd imagined.
Victor's expression hardened. "Don't act so high and mighty. After you vanished, your dear father's influence waned. Not to mention the scandal…" He let the implication hang, enjoying the way Aria flinched.
She clenched her fists under the table. Of course he'd bring up that. The downfall of the Lancaster name was a wound she tried not to pick at. "I have no influence on Damien's business decisions," she said tightly. "And even if I did, I wouldn't abuse it to help you."
He gave a cold smile. "Oh, I think you will. Unless you're okay with me spilling your identity to anyone who'll listen. I'm sure the media would love a story about the prodigal Lancaster daughter showing up as the wife of a self-made billionaire." He tutted. "Imagine the feeding frenzy. How long before someone digs up why you left your family, I wonder?"
Aria's blood ran colder. The reasons were deeply personal—and painful. If that part of her past came to light, it wouldn't just be a scandal for her. It could hurt innocent people. It could hurt Damien... and Noah.
"You're despicable," she whispered, voice shaking with barely-contained fury. "This is blackmail, plain and simple."
"Call it what you like." Victor shrugged, utterly unfazed. "I prefer to see it as a mutually beneficial arrangement. I keep my mouth shut, and eventually, you introduce me to your husband's circle. Perhaps suggest my company for a partnership. Grease the wheels a little."
Aria's mind whirled. Even if she agreed, how would she explain such a request to Damien without raising suspicions? "You're asking for something I can't guarantee," she argued. "Damien isn't swayed by personal favors. He won't entertain a partnership just because I ask."
"No?" Victor arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure a clever woman like you can find a way. After all, you already snagged him with a child, didn't you?"
The insult hit its mark. Aria sucked in a breath as if slapped. "How dare you—"
A familiar voice cut in sharply: "Is everything alright here?"
Aria's heart lurched at the familiar baritone. She whipped her head around and her stomach dropped to her shoes.
Damien stood a few feet away, tension radiating off him. His gaze flicked from Aria to Victor with icy intensity. "I asked if everything is alright," he said, deceptively calm.
"I–It's fine," Aria stammered, lurching to her feet. Her mind raced for an explanation, any explanation, for what he'd just seen. "Damien, I—"
"Hello, Blackwood," Victor cut in smoothly, rising as well. He extended a hand, brazen as ever. "Victor Hayes. Old friend of Aria's. We were just catching up."
Damien's eyes flicked to the offered hand but he pointedly ignored it. Instead, he addressed Aria, each word clipped. "Catching up, hmm?"
Aria's pulse thundered in her ears. "Y-Yes," she lied, forcing what she hoped was a convincing smile. "Victor and I knew each other years ago. We ran into each other recently, so he suggested coffee. I didn't think to mention it—I'm sorry."
She was babbling. Damien's gaze bore into her, and she knew he didn't buy a word.
Victor cleared his throat, picking up his coat from the chair. "Well, I should be going. Lovely to see you, Aria," he said lightly, as if this were any normal reunion. He nodded at Damien, unfazed by the other man's withering stare. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blackwood. I'm sure we'll cross paths again."
As Victor brushed past Damien, Aria saw a muscle feather in Damien's jaw. He waited until Victor strolled out of earshot before turning back to her.
Damien drew in a slow breath, clearly reining in his temper. "Aria," he said quietly, "I didn't know you had history with Victor Hayes."
She swallowed hard. The café suddenly felt much too warm. "It—it wasn't worth mentioning," she managed. "We barely knew each other. I didn't want to bother you with..."
Damien held up a hand, stopping her. His eyes were pained. "No more, remember? No more hiding. Last night you promised." His voice softened at her flinch. "I'm not angry that you have a past, Aria. I'm angry you're still trying to carry it all by yourself."
Her eyes stung with fresh tears of guilt. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I... I didn't want you dragged into it. I thought I could handle him."
A muscle in Damien's cheek jumped. "He was blackmailing you, wasn't he? I heard enough to know something's very wrong." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Please, Aria. Let me in. Let me help."
Aria's shoulders sagged in defeat. Here, now—there was no point weaving more lies. So in the quiet corner of the café, she confessed haltingly: how Victor had recognized her, how he threatened to expose her identity and demands she help him. How terrified she'd been and how she'd tried to pay him off just now to no avail.
Damien listened, expression grim. By the end, his fists were clenched at his sides. "That bastard," he muttered, fury barely contained.
Aria wiped her damp cheeks. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."
Damien closed the remaining distance between them and gently grasped her shoulders. "I'm sorry you felt you couldn't," he said, tone heavy with regret. "I promised I'd protect you, Aria. That wasn't just talk. Let me deal with Victor from now on. He won't get away with this."
Looking into his stormy grey eyes, Aria finally allowed herself to lean into his strength. "Okay," she whispered shakily.
Damien pulled her into a tight embrace. Aria shut her eyes, breathing him in. The fight seemed to drain out of him as he held her. "We'll get him, I swear," he murmured. "He won't touch you again."
As he soothed her, Aria felt a wave of exhaustion and relief wash over her. The burden was no longer solely hers to bear. Damien was here, sharing it, exactly as he'd promised.
He guided her out of the café, one protective arm around her. Aria didn't protest. For the first time in a long time, she didn't have to be strong alone.