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A big shout out to Eedi-Nigro.
Damian's car pulled into the driveway of his mansion, the night quiet except for the low growl of the engine.
He stepped out, loosening his tie, the cool air brushing against his face. He was exhausted — mentally, physically. The last few days had been chaos.
Just as he was about to head inside, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He sighed, glancing at the screen.
Isabel.
He rolled his eyes but still picked up. "What is it, Isabel?" he said flatly, his voice cold.
There was a soft, sultry laugh on the other end.
"Don't you miss me, Damian?" she said, her tone dripping with the same sweetness that once used to draw him in.
He clenched his jaw. "What do you want?"
"I want us," she whispered. "Like before."
The sound of her voice made something twist inside him — not desire, but disgust.
His eyes darkened as his mind flashed back to that day… her in bed with Adrian, the betrayal that burned through his veins like fire.
Without another word, he ended the call, his grip tight on the phone. He stood still for a moment, staring at the dark screen, the reflection of his own hardened face staring back at him.
"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, sliding the phone back into his pocket.
He pushed open the door to the mansion. The air inside was warm and silent, only the faint ticking of the clock filling the room.
He loosened the top buttons of his black shirt and moved through the hallway, heading to the living room.
Then he stopped.
Elena was lying there — on the couch — fast asleep.
The dim lights made her look soft, almost unreal. Her hair was scattered across the pillow, her breathing calm, her lips slightly parted. She was still in her casual clothes, her arms folded gently around herself.
For a moment, Damian just stood there. Watching her.
Something in his chest shifted — the anger, the chaos from before — all of it went quiet.
He didn't want to admit it, but she had a strange power over him. She made him want to be still.
He walked closer, his steps silent against the marble floor. He crouched down beside her, his face close enough to see the soft flutter of her lashes. His hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
He sighed, shaking his head. He didn't want to feel this. He didn't want her to be the reason his chest tightened every time he saw her.
But he couldn't help it.
He slipped one arm under her knees and the other beneath her back, lifting her gently. She stirred a little, mumbling his name in her sleep — "Damian…" — so soft that it nearly broke him.
He stopped walking for a second, staring down at her face. Then he swallowed hard, holding her tighter.
He carried her upstairs, his every step quiet and slow, as though he didn't want to wake her. When he reached the room, he laid her down carefully on the bed, adjusting the pillow beneath her head.
Her hand fell over his wrist before he could pull away. He froze.
She was still asleep, but her touch was warm — light. Something in him ached at that. He slowly freed his hand, letting his fingers brush over hers before standing.
He looked down at her one more time. She looked peaceful. Too peaceful for someone who lived in his storm.
Damian turned away, exhaling heavily. He ran a hand through his hair.
He left the room quietly, closing the door halfway behind him. But even as he walked away, the image of her sleeping face wouldn't leave his mind — and for the first time in a long while, Damian Volkov couldn't tell whether that made him weak… or human.
***
Maria's heart was beating fast as the car moved through the quiet evening streets. The city lights glimmered faintly through the tinted windows, but her mind was far away. She couldn't stop thinking about Diego — and what he had said earlier. If you want to see our daughter… meet me here.
She turned to the chauffeur, her voice soft but trembling. "Please… stop the car."
He frowned slightly, glancing at her in the mirror. "Madam, I was instructed to take you straight home. Mr. Damian will—"
"Please," she interrupted, her voice breaking a little. "I just… I just need to see someone important. I promise I'll be back soon."
The guard hesitated, unsure. But when he looked at her eyes — the tears already gathering there — he sighed. "Fine, ma'am. But please, don't take long."
Maria smiled faintly, grateful. "Thank you."
She opened the door and stepped out, the air cool against her skin. Her legs felt weak, but she gathered her strength and started walking.
A few meters ahead stood Diego, leaning beside his car - the man who had taken her child away.
He simply opened the car door for her.
Maria hesitated for a moment, then walked toward him and got in.
The drive was silent. She sat with her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her chest rising and falling quickly. Diego kept glancing at her, but he said nothing.
The weight between them was too heavy, years of pain and regret sitting in the air.
Finally, the car stopped in front of a grand mansion — tall gates, bright lights, a home of wealth and power.
Maria frowned, confused. "Why… why are we here?"
Diego turned off the engine and said quietly, "Because she's here."
Her breath caught. "She?"
He nodded. "Our daughter."
Her heart skipped painfully. She didn't even realize she was gripping her skirt so tightly her knuckles turned white.
They walked into the house. The marble floors, the gold accents — none of it mattered to her. All she wanted was to see her.
Diego looked at one of the maids. "Check if she is home."
The maid bowed slightly. "Yes, sir."
A moment later, she returned. "Yes, sir. She's in her room."
Maria's breath hitched. Her chest tightened.
"Send for her," Diego ordered softly.
The maid nodded and disappeared up the stairs.
Minutes passed. Maria stood near the couch, her fingers trembling. She didn't know what to do — sit, stand, breathe — it all felt too much.
Then the sound of heels echoed on the staircase.
A young woman appeared — tall, beautiful, confident. Her hips swayed as she walked down, her face cold, expression sharp like she owned the air around her.
"What do you want, Dad?" she asked carelessly, not even looking at him at first.
Diego took a step forward. His tone softened, heavy with emotion. "I want you to meet someone."
She raised a brow. "Who?"
He moved aside slightly, revealing Maria standing behind him.
"Meet your mother… Isabel."
For a second, the world stopped moving.
The girl's eyes widened — disbelief flashing across her face. Maria's lips parted, her heart pounding painfully as she stared at the daughter she hadn't seen for so many years.
The resemblance was striking — the same eyes, the same tilt of the chin, the same fire in her gaze.
Maria whispered shakily, "You… you've grown so much."
Isabel blinked, taking a slow step back.
"Mother?" Her voice cracked. Her hands trembled as she brought them to her lips. "I thought you were—"
Tears slipped down Maria's cheeks before she could stop them. She took a shaky step forward, her voice breaking completely.
"I never stopped thinking about you… not for a day."
Isabel's eyes glistened, the hardness in her expression slowly melting. Her throat tightened as she whispered, "Why now? Why didn't you come for me?"
Maria pressed a hand to her chest. "I wanted to. Every single day, I wanted to. But I was young, broken, and I didn't know where you were.
He—" she looked at Diego, her voice trembling with anger and sorrow, "he took you away from me."
Isabel's tears fell now, silently down her face.
Maria reached out, her voice soft but desperate. "Please… let me hold you."
For a heartbeat, Isabel just stood there — torn between anger, confusion, and something deeper. Then slowly, she moved closer, her steps small and uncertain.
When she finally reached her, Maria's arms wrapped around her daughter tightly. Isabel froze for a second, then melted into her embrace, both of them shaking with tears.
Years of pain and distance fell away in that single moment — a mother and daughter finally finding each other again.
Diego Laurent stood quietly nearby, guilt clouding his face, knowing he had created this pain.