Morning light filtered softly through the curtains of the master bedroom, casting a warm glow over the tranquil scene. Aria Lancaster—no, Aria Blackwood, she reminded herself—awoke to the unfamiliar yet comforting weight of an arm draped around her waist. For a moment, she lay very still, eyes closed, simply absorbing the steady heat at her back and the rhythmic breathing that wasn't her own. Damien. He had stayed with her through the night. The realization made her heart squeeze with a tender ache. After the emotional storm of the previous evening—her choked sobs, his strong arms holding her as she finally let herself feel—waking up in his embrace felt like the first gentle dawn after a long, dark night.
Aria shifted slightly, rolling onto her back. Damien's arm slid up to her ribs, reflexively pulling her closer even in sleep. His face, usually so guarded and sharp in the daylight, was relaxed now. In repose, the tiny furrow between his dark brows had smoothed, and his chiseled features were softened by sleep. He looks so human like this, she thought with a faint smile, reaching up carefully to brush a lock of ebony hair off his forehead. Usually immaculately styled, his hair was endearingly mussed this morning, likely thanks to Noah's tiny hands the night before. Aria's smile grew at the memory: their son had insisted on patting his father's head goodnight, giggling as Damien endured it with saint-like patience. The image of Damien—powerful CEO and feared mogul—sitting on the nursery carpet while a toddler crowned him with a stuffed dinosaur was something Aria would cherish forever.
As if summoned by her thoughts, a soft babble came through the baby monitor on the nightstand. Aria's ears perked. Noah was awake, and judging by the singsong of "Mama…Mama?" coming through the speaker, their little boy would soon demand attention. Aria started to sit up, but the arm around her tightened gently.
"Stay," came Damien's sleep-roughened murmur. She turned her head to find him blinking awake. His storm-grey eyes, still hazy, met hers and then immediately flickered with concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, voice low. "Are you okay?"
Aria realized her sudden movement must have alarmed him—after all, the night before she had bolted upright in this very bed, gasping from a nightmare until he soothed her. She hadn't meant to worry him now. "I'm fine," she whispered, reassuring. To prove it, she let herself settle back against him, head propped on the same pillow. His warmth enveloped her once more. "Noah's up," she added with a nod at the monitor, where babbling had escalated to the sing-song call of "Mamaaaa!" and an excited squeal.
Damien followed her gaze and managed a drowsy half-smile. "Our little alarm clock," he murmured. He shifted onto his back and stretched, the motion causing the sheets to slip low on his torso. Aria flushed and averted her eyes politely—despite everything, the sight of Damien's toned chest first thing in the morning was something she wasn't quite prepared for. The man was unfairly gorgeous without even trying. Focus, Aria.
With a chuckle at her sudden shyness, Damien sat up. "I'll get him." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, seemingly unfazed by his disheveled state. Aria watched as he shrugged on a charcoal-gray robe hanging near the closet, tying it loosely around his waist. A domestic Damien Blackwood, padding off to fetch their son with bedhead and a robe… if the board of Blackwood Enterprises could see him now, Aria thought wryly, they'd be in utter disbelief.
She pushed herself up as well, quickly straightening her nightshirt and running a hand through her own tousled hair. A quick glance at the mirror above the dresser showed puffy eyes and smudges beneath them from the prior night's tears. Aria grimaced at her reflection, then turned away. It didn't matter; there was no one here she needed to put on a brave face for. Damien had seen her at her lowest yesterday—seen her break down and cry, finally releasing the fear and tension she'd been bottling up. Instead of recoiling, he had held her. Instead of judgment, he offered comfort. The memory alone was enough to make her eyes sting with grateful tears all over again.
In the adjoining nursery, Noah's delighted shriek announced Damien's arrival. Aria could hear the low rumble of Damien's voice through the wall, speaking to their son in a tone so gentle it was almost unrecognizable as his. She couldn't make out the words, but Noah's giggles were answer enough. Smiling to herself, Aria slipped out of bed and wrapped her own robe around her. She found a hair tie on the nightstand and tugged her chestnut waves into a messy bun. When she stepped into the hall, the sight that greeted her made her heart melt:
Damien stood by Noah's crib, cradling the toddler in one arm while the other hand tickled Noah's round tummy through his star-printed pajamas. Noah was squealing in laughter, chubby hands waving. Damien's face was lit with rare playfulness, eyes crinkled at the corners as he feigned shock when Noah tugged at his nose.
"You got my nose!" Damien gasped dramatically. "What am I going to do without a nose, huh?"
Noah dissolved into more laughter. "Daddy silly!" he crowed, clearly proud of himself for capturing his father's nose.
Aria leaned against the doorway, warmth unfurling in her chest. This right here was everything she had ever wanted and never dared believe she could have: a peaceful morning with the two people she loved most in the world. Loved. The word trembled in her mind, a truth both exhilarating and terrifying. Yes, she loved them—her sweet son and his father, who was fast becoming more than just a contract partner or co-parent. Much more. Last night, for the first time, she'd allowed herself to imagine what it might be like if this marriage were real. If Damien's tenderness and protectiveness came not just from honor or obligation, but from love. Her heart insisted it might be possible… but her head, ever cautious, warned that the world was not so kind.
Sensing her presence, Damien looked up from Noah. The softness on his face didn't fade as his gaze found Aria; if anything, it warmed further. "Good morning," he said quietly, careful not to startle her—as if she were a skittish deer he didn't want to frighten away. "We were just about to come find you."
"Morning, Mama!" Noah added, extending his arms toward Aria in a universal toddler demand to be held by both parents at once. Aria laughed and moved forward to take Noah from Damien's arms, but Damien unexpectedly tightened his hold on the boy and stepped closer to Aria, a playful glint in his eye.
"I think I get Mama first this morning," Damien murmured, and before Aria could respond, he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. It was a simple gesture—chaste, barely grazing her skin—but it sent a delightful little shock through Aria. She stood frozen for half a second, heart thumping at the feel of his lips on her cheek and the casual ease with which he'd done it. When he pulled back, he looked almost as surprised as she felt, as if he hadn't quite planned that himself. A faint flush crept up his neck.
Noah giggled, oblivious to the tension between the grown-ups. "Mama and Dada!" he cheered, reaching a hand to Aria's face and patting it, inadvertently breaking the charged moment. Aria exhaled and smiled, taking Noah from Damien's arms.
"Alright you two, let's get breakfast going," she said, injecting cheer into her voice to smooth the sudden flutter in her stomach. She booped Noah's tiny nose, making him giggle again. "Someone's hungry, I bet."
In the kitchen, the coffeemaker gurgled quietly as Aria prepared Noah's oatmeal. Damien hovered nearby, insisting on helping even though Aria assured him she had it under control. It was endearing seeing him in full father mode—rolling up the sleeves of his robe (revealing tantalizing glimpses of toned forearms) as he mashed banana to mix into the oatmeal, or dutifully fetching a sippy cup of water when Aria asked. They moved around each other in a comfortable dance, as though they'd been doing this for years instead of weeks. Every so often their hands would brush or they'd catch each other's eyes and share a soft smile that sent Aria's pulse fluttering anew.
They settled at the breakfast table: Noah in his high chair happily smearing banana oatmeal across his face, and Aria and Damien seated side by side with steaming mugs of coffee. The tranquility of the moment was not lost on Aria. A week ago—heck, yesterday morning—she would never have imagined such a peaceful domestic scene in the midst of their troubles. Yesterday had begun with tension: a nasty rumor online, an emergency meeting with Damien's PR team, and her own spiraling anxiety about how quickly Victor's poison was spreading. By evening it had all become too much, leading to her breakdown in Damien's arms. She closed her eyes briefly, the coffee mug warming her hands, and thanked fate for this brief reprieve.
"How are you feeling?" Damien's voice was gentle. Aria opened her eyes to find him watching her intently over the rim of his mug. He hadn't touched his breakfast; instead, all his attention was on her. That penetrating gaze of his saw far too much.
Aria mustered a small smile. "Better," she said honestly. "I think… I really needed the rest." And your arms around me, her mind added, but she kept that part to herself. She took a sip of coffee. "Thank you, by the way… for staying. I know you probably aren't used to spending your night as a human pillow." She tried for a light tease to cover the depth of her gratitude.
One corner of Damien's mouth lifted. "I didn't mind," he replied. "For the record, I am an excellent pillow. Very soft." He gestured at his solid chest with a glimmer of humor in his eyes.
Aria laughed under her breath. "I wouldn't exactly call you soft, Damien." Her gaze flitted involuntarily down to the hint of muscle visible where his robe parted at the throat. She felt her cheeks heat and quickly cleared her throat, focusing back on Noah, who had begun banging his spoon on the tray. "And you—" she gently scolded her son, wiping a drip of oatmeal from his chin, "—you little troublemaker, hold still." Noah answered with a big, toothy grin that made both his parents chuckle.
For a while, they simply enjoyed the normalcy. The clink of silverware, Noah's babbling attempts at words ("More nana, pease," he demanded, and Aria dutifully scooped more banana onto his plate), and the aromatic steam of coffee mingled into a snapshot of a life Aria desperately wished could last. Damien talked about possibly taking Noah to the park later if the weather held, recounting how the jacaranda trees were in full bloom. Aria offered to pack a picnic for them, half-joking that Damien would likely sneak off with Noah to the ice cream stand regardless of her healthy snacks. He had the decency to look only slightly guilty at that accusation, which made Aria laugh.
Yet beneath her smiles, Aria felt a subtle tension coiling once more in her stomach. It was like sensing a distant tremor in the earth—a warning that this peaceful morning was only temporary. The world outside their little kitchen hadn't magically changed overnight. Victor Hayes was still out there. The ugly rumors he'd seeded yesterday—like poisonous weeds—were surely only the beginning. They had managed to contain some of the fallout, thanks to Damien's quick action and a carefully worded statement from Blackwood Corp's PR department dismissing the anonymous gossip as baseless. But Aria knew Victor wouldn't stop. He wanted something, and if he didn't get it, he was fully prepared to burn her world down piece by piece.
She must have fallen silent for too long because Damien's hand suddenly covered hers on the table. Aria jumped slightly at the warmth of his palm against her skin. She looked up to find him watching her with that same gentle concern. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked softly.
Aria managed a tight smile. "Sorry. I was just… thinking about how nice this is. Being here, like this." That much was true—though it wasn't the whole truth.
Damien searched her face, and she had the uncanny feeling he could read the secrets behind her eyes if he wished. But he didn't push. Instead, he squeezed her hand, then released it to brush a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. The touch was feather-light, but it sent a reassuring warmth through her. "We'll have many more mornings like this," he said quietly, conviction underlying each word. "I promise, Aria. I know things are…uncertain right now. But I won't let anyone take this—us—away without one hell of a fight."
The tenderness and determination in his voice brought a prick of tears to Aria's eyes. She turned her hand over so she could intertwine her fingers with his. Us. It was such a simple word, yet coming from Damien it felt monumental. For so long, their arrangement had been about Noah, about duty. But here he was, talking about them—as a family, as something worth fighting for. Aria's throat tightened with emotion. "Thank you," she whispered. She wanted to say so much more: that she was terrified of what was coming, that she was grateful beyond measure to not be alone in it anymore, that somewhere along the line she'd started needing him not just as an ally but as a partner in every sense of the word. But the words tangled inside her, too heavy to voice. Instead, she lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to the back of his, hoping he understood.
Damien's eyes darkened for a heartbeat, and his fingers flexed around hers. For a charged moment, it looked like he might say something—or do something—more. But before either of them could speak, the shrill ding of a cell phone broke the spell. On the counter, Damien's phone lit up and vibrated insistently. He sighed, casting an apologetic look Aria's way, and stood to retrieve it.
Aria busied herself wiping Noah's sticky hands and face while Damien answered the call a few steps away. She wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but in the quiet of the kitchen, his side of the conversation was audible.
"Yes, Blackwood here," he answered, his tone brisk and all business now. A pause. "This early?… No, I'd rather handle it internally, keep it quiet for now. Can you push the meeting to this afternoon? I have…important family matters this morning." Another pause, and Aria could hear a tinny voice on the other end, though not the words. Damien's jaw tightened. "Understood. I'll look at the report soon. Thank you."
He hung up, exhaling in mild frustration as he set the phone down. When he turned back to Aria, some of the lightness had left his expression. "Something from work?" she asked gently, bouncing Noah on her knee.
"Just a minor crisis with a merger deal," Damien said, running a hand through his hair. "Nothing that can't be managed. My VP is on top of it." He offered a small smile. "I told them I'm busy this morning."
Aria tilted her head. "You didn't have to do that. If you need to go in—"
He was already shaking his head. "It's fine. Honestly, I'd rather be here." His eyes softened as they rested on her, then Noah. "I want to make sure you're alright."
Warmth spread through Aria's chest. He was foregoing work—something he never used to do—for them. For her. She bit her lip against another rush of gratitude. "I'm alright," she promised, trying to sound convincing. "Especially after last night… and this morning. I feel stronger."
"You are strong," Damien said, his voice quiet but fervent. "But you don't always have to be, not with me."
Before Aria could reply, Noah decided he'd been out of the spotlight long enough and began babbling a string of syllables that may have been an attempt at the ABC song. Both parents laughed, the heavier moment passing. Aria rose, lifting Noah from his high chair. "Alright, young man, time for a clean-up and a change of clothes. We can't have you running around in oatmeal pajamas."
"I'll do it," Damien offered immediately, stepping forward with arms out to take Noah. Aria arched a brow, half amused, half skeptical. The last time Damien attempted a solo outfit change for Noah, the poor man ended up with a missing sock and a backward shirt on the toddler.
"Are you sure?" she teased lightly. "Because Noah's dinosaur shirt has three buttons, and I know how much you love those."
Damien chuckled, not the least deterred. "I'll manage. Besides, I think he likes when I do it. Don't you, buddy?" He booped Noah's nose, earning a delighted squeal. Noah threw his little arms toward his father, clearly content to be handled by either parent this morning.
Aria handed him over carefully. "Alright. But I'll come rescue you in five minutes if I hear chaos," she said, unable to hide her smile.
"Deal." Damien gave her a playful wink and headed off down the hall toward Noah's room, the toddler bouncing in his arms.
Alone for the moment, Aria began clearing the table, humming softly under her breath one of the lullabies Noah loved. She collected the dishes and was about to set them in the sink when her own phone, tucked in the pocket of her robe, buzzed with an incoming text. Drying her hands, she pulled it out and glanced at the screen. The number wasn't saved in her contacts, but it looked vaguely familiar. With a slight frown, Aria opened the message and read:
Hi Aria, it's Chelsea. Just saw something online… Call me when you can, okay? It's about you.
Aria's stomach dropped. Chelsea was an old acquaintance from her design agency job—a friend, even, though they hadn't spoken much since Aria's sudden marriage changed her life. What could Chelsea have seen about her online? Dread prickled at the back of Aria's neck. Perhaps it was nothing—maybe just yesterday's gossip post finally making the rounds, or some innocuous mention of Aria attending a charity event with Damien. But her gut whispered that it was more.
Hands suddenly unsteady, Aria navigated to her web browser and typed her own name into the search bar. It was something she rarely did—she'd managed to stay out of the public eye for the most part, aside from official appearances with Damien. But now, with her heart thumping nervously, she braced herself and hit Search.
The results loaded, and Aria's breath caught. There, on the first page of results, was a headline that sent a chill through her veins:
"Heiress in Hiding? Sources Claim Mrs. Blackwood's Past Isn't So Humble After All."
Aria's pulse pounded in her ears. The snippet below the headline mentioned "a disgraced wealthy family's daughter" and "rumors of a past scandal". The gossip site's name was one she recognized—Celebrity Scoop Online—not exactly the most reputable source, but notorious for sensational stories that spread fast.
Her fingers trembled around the phone. This must have been what Chelsea saw. It was out. Not the full story yet, but enough to ignite the flames. The poisonous weeds of rumor from yesterday had grown into a thicket overnight. Victor had started making good on his threats.
From down the hall, Aria heard Noah's high-pitched laughter and Damien's low, affectionate murmurs as he presumably wrestled tiny buttons onto a squirming toddler. That beautiful, ordinary sound made her eyes burn fiercely with tears she refused to shed. This morning had given her a precious glimpse of normal, of what life could be if they were just a regular happy family without ghosts lurking over their shoulders. But reality was intruding already, scratching at the door.
Aria drew a shaky breath and closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm. Panicking now wouldn't help anyone. This particular article was vague—no names given yet. It was likely a teaser, meant to draw attention and stir speculation. The real blow—a fully detailed exposé naming her and dredging up everything—hadn't landed yet. Perhaps there was still time to brace for impact.
She quickly typed a reply to Chelsea: "Thanks for the heads up. I saw it. I'm okay… will call later." Whether she'd actually be okay remained to be seen, but she couldn't worry her friend. Right now, Aria needed to focus on her family. On Damien. How was she going to tell him that the gossip had spread further? He'd done so much already to try and quash the rumors; this would only infuriate him.
As if on cue, she heard Damien's approaching footsteps. Aria hastily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and slipped her phone away, turning to face him just as he re-entered the kitchen carrying Noah. Their son was now dressed in a bright green shirt emblazoned with a cartoon dinosaur and tiny khaki shorts; only one sock was missing (which was frankly better than Aria expected). Damien looked inordinately proud of himself as he announced, "One dino-lover, ready for action. And I only had to re-button things twice."
Aria mustered a smile for both of them. She reached out to smooth Noah's soft brown curls and pretended not to notice how her hand shook slightly. "My handsome boys," she said, voice as steady as she could manage. "Good job, Daddy."
Noah wriggled in Damien's arms, and Damien set him down to toddle off toward the living room in search of his favorite toy truck. The moment the little boy was out of earshot, Damien's attention zeroed in on Aria. His smile faded into that perceptive, concerned frown she knew too well. "What happened?" he asked softly. "You look pale."
Aria opened her mouth to deny it automatically, but the lie died before it formed. No more hiding, he had told her. And hadn't she promised? They were in this together now. Swallowing hard, she admitted quietly, "There's… something you should see."
She picked up her phone again, hands clammy, and navigated back to the search results. With a deep breath, she handed it to Damien. He took it, eyes flicking over the screen. As he read, his expression darkened, thunderous. Aria anxiously twisted her fingers together, watching him process the implications.
"They're calling you a hiding heiress," he muttered, voice low and simmering with anger. "Implying you lied about your past." He scrolled, scanning the article quickly. "They don't name you yet, but anyone with half a brain can put it together: Mrs. Blackwood, formerly of a disgraced rich family…" Damien trailed off, lips pressed into a grim line. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and Aria's heart squeezed at the mixture of rage and concern she found there. "Victor," Damien said, almost spitting the name. It wasn't a question. Of course it was Victor. Who else had the knowledge and the vendetta?
Aria nodded, arms wrapping around herself. "He's starting to follow through on his threats," she whispered. "I knew it was only a matter of time. Yesterday's rumor blog was just the beginning. And now this… They haven't printed my name yet, but they will. He'll make sure of it." She sucked in a shaky breath. "Damien, I'm so sorry."
In an instant, Damien was by her side, one hand cupping her cheek, the other settling at the small of her back. "Sorry? Aria, you have nothing to apologize for." His eyes flashed. "This garbage—it's on him, on them, not you. You've done nothing wrong."
Aria bit her lip hard, trying to keep her composure. "But your reputation—Blackwood Corp—"
"Damn the company if it comes to that," he said fiercely, surprising her. "My priority is you and Noah. We'll handle the business fallout, whatever it may be. But first, we need to keep you safe." His thumb stroked her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen. "I won't let them hurt you."
The conviction in his tone bolstered Aria's resolve. She managed to nod, leaning for a moment into the warmth of his palm. "What… what do we do now?" she asked softly. It was a plea for guidance, for him to once again shoulder this burden with her.
Damien exhaled slowly, his jaw set in determination. "We prepare. If this small-time site has it, the bigger outlets might not be far behind. Victor could be shopping the story around." His eyes narrowed as he thought aloud. "I'll call my legal team, see if we can get any preemptive injunctions ready for slander or invasion of privacy. And PR needs to draft a response in case your name goes public. We have to get ahead of the scandal before it spirals."
Hearing him so calmly strategize eased some of Aria's panic. This was what Damien did best—take control of chaos. She took a fortifying breath. "Alright. Whatever you need me to do, I will."
Damien studied her for a beat, then surprised her by shaking his head. "Right now, what I need is for you to try to relax. Stressing yourself sick won't help Noah or us in the long run." He gently tucked that stray strand of hair behind her ear again—a soothing gesture. "Why don't you take Noah out to the garden for a bit? It's nice out. Let him play; it'll take your mind off things while I make some calls."
Aria opened her mouth to protest—she didn't want him bearing everything alone—but he forestalled her with a soft kiss to her forehead. The tender contact dissolved her objection into a sigh. "Five minutes ago, you were telling me I don't always have to be strong," she mumbled ruefully. "I could say the same to you, you know."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Perhaps. But someone has to call the lawyers, and I'd rather it be me than you. I promise, as soon as I'm done, we'll figure out next steps together." He leaned back to catch her gaze directly. "Okay?"
Aria searched his face, then nodded. "Okay." In truth, a small part of her was relieved to step back, just for a moment, from the front lines of this fight. She was exhausted—last night's emotional collapse proved that. Maybe a few minutes of normal playtime with Noah could steady her before whatever came next.
Damien seemed to read her agreement in her eyes. He gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder before releasing her. "I'll join you both soon. And Aria—" he hesitated, then added with quiet intensity, "We'll get through this. I meant what I said. I won't let anything take our family away."
Her family. The words were a balm and a promise wrapped in one. Aria mustered a brave smile. "I believe you," she whispered. And she realized with a start that she truly did. If there was anyone who could stand against the tidal wave of her past, it was Damien Blackwood. Not because of his power or wealth, but because of the strength of his resolve and the depth of his heart—a heart she was beginning to know was far less cold than he pretended.
With one last look—an exchange of mutual reassurance—Aria turned and headed toward the garden doors where Noah had toddled off. The sun outside was bright, the sky a gentle blue. As she stepped onto the patio and watched Noah gleefully chase a butterfly near the rose bushes, Aria clung to the hope that Damien was right. This morning of calm might be ending, but maybe, just maybe, if they fought hard enough, many more peaceful mornings awaited them on the other side of the storm.
Inside, unseen by Aria, Damien remained in the kitchen, phone already in hand as he dialed with steely purpose. The calm before the chaos was over; the battle was about to begin. And Damien had every intention of winning.
The morning light in the garden felt warm on Aria's face, but a cool shadow of dread lingered in her heart. She forced herself to focus on Noah's laughter, reminding herself that for him—and for the promise of us—she would face whatever came. Little did she know, the first true blow of the storm was only hours away.