She wouldn't meet my eyes.
The elevator ride felt eternal. My reflection stared back at me from the polished doors—pale, thin, exhausted. I'd barely eaten in days.
The doors opened to reveal a sharp-faced woman in a designer suit.
Her smile was professional. "Mrs. Blackwood." She gestured down a hallway. "This way, please."
We walked in silence past glass-walled offices where employees pretended not to stare. I felt their eyes tracking me. The rejected bride. The humiliated wife.
The assistant stopped at massive double doors.
She knocked once. "Go ahead." Then she left me there.
I pushed the doors open.
Damien's office was obscene. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the entire city. Modern art on the walls. A desk that probably cost more than a car.
He sat behind it, barely glancing up from his computer. His voice was clipped. "I have a meeting in ten minutes."
I closed the doors behind me. "This won't take long."
He finally looked at me. His ice-blue eyes showed nothing no warmth, no recognition, nothing.
I crossed the office. "We need to talk."
He leaned back in his chair. "If this is about the wedding"
I cut him off. "I'm pregnant."
Damien's expression didn't change. For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then he laughed. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "Of course you are."
My stomach dropped. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He walked to the window, his back to me. "How much do you want?"
I blinked. "What?"
He turned. "For the abortion." His voice was boring. "And to sign the divorce papers quietly. Name your price."
The floor tilted beneath me.
My voice came out small. "You think I'm lying?"
He crossed his arms. "I think you're desperate." His eyes were hard. "The wedding was a disaster. Your family is bleeding me dry for the agreed-upon payments. And now, conveniently, you're pregnant?"
Tears burned my eyes. "It's yours." I stepped toward him. "From the engagement, that night"
He cut me off with a harsh laugh. "That night you initiated?" His jaw clenched. "The one where you conveniently 'just happened' to show up at that lodge?"
[FLASHBACK – Two Months Earlier]
The Pine Grove Lodge sat tucked away in the mountains, two hours outside the city. I'd come alone, desperate for space from my family and their endless wedding planning. I thought a small cabin and a quiet weekend would clear my head.
But then I saw Damien's car in the lot.
I found him on the lodge deck, a glass of whiskey in hand, the sunset painting him in gold. Without his tie, shirt open at the collar, he looked less like the untouchable man I'd come to know—and more like someone real.
"Mr. Blackwood," I said softly.
He turned his head, surprise flickering in his eyes before he masked it. "Miss Monroe. What are you doing here?"
"The same as you, I think. Hiding."
Something softened in his expression. Not quite a smile, but close. He gestured opposite him. "Sit."
I did. For a long moment, we watched the sun dip behind the mountains, the silence stretching comfortably between us.
Then he spoke. "Your family is exhausting."
A startled laugh broke from me. "They are."
One drink turned into two. Then dinner. Then a walk beneath the stars, where he asked questions no one ever bothered to ask—about my degree, my dreams, the kind of life I wanted. When I told him I wanted to build something of my own, his silence felt heavy, like he actually cared about my answer.
When I shivered in the night air, he laid his jacket across my shoulders with such quiet tenderness it nearly undid me.
We stopped in the shadow of the pines. Moonlight cut across his face, and my heart beat wildly.
"Damien," I whispered.
"Aria," he said, and the way he said my name like it mattered broke me open.
He lunged first or maybe it was me. His hands tangled roughly in my hair, urgent and demanding, while my fingers clawed at his shirt, pulling him closer until our mouths crashed together. The kiss felt like the end of everything, fierce and desperate; teeth grazing as our tongues intertwined hungry for more.
"My cabin," I panted against his lips, breathless. "It's close."
His eyes darkened, filled with need, and he nodded. We stumbled into the night, his fingers digging into my hips, mine sliding under his shirt, tracing the heat of his skin. At the cabin door, he pressed me against it, his body heavy and unyielding, caging me. His breath was ragged, and I could feel the hard strain of him through his jeans.
"Tell me to stop," he growled, forehead resting against mine, his voice thick with restraint. "Tell me this is a mistake."
"Never," I whispered my voice trembling. "I want you."
Whatever control he had snapped. He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping tight around his waist, his hands gripping my thighs as he carried me inside. His fingers trembled as they fumbled with the buttons of my blouse, and that raw vulnerability made my chest ache with something deeper than desire.
I yanked his shirt over his head, revealing the hard planes of his chest. My hands roamed, memorizing every muscle beneath my touch.
"Aria," he breathed, lips trailing along my collarbone, leaving fire in their wake. "God, Aria"
I pulled him down desperately, needing to feel him even closer—wanted, chosen, cherished like never before. Our clothes became a frantic tangle as his jeans, my skirt, underwear were torn away in a frenzy.
His cock was thick and pulsing as it pressed against my thigh. I moaned, arching up instinctively, my body begging before words could form.
He positioned himself, the tip slick with my arousal, teasing my entrance with slow, deliberate pressure. Inch by inch, he slid inside me, deliciously stretching, filling me until I gasped, my walls clenching instinctively around him.
"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to let me adjust, his eyes locked on mine.
Then he moved—pulling back, thrusting deep. Each stroke was harder, faster. I cried out, clutching the sheets, fingers twisting the fabric into knots as he pounded into me. My hips bucked to meet his, desperate for more. Words escaped me, broken pleas of "harder" and "don't stop."
He grabbed my thighs, lifting them, hooking my legs over his shoulders to change the angle. I gasped as he hit spots that sent shockwaves through my body. One hand pinned my wrists above my head, firm and commanding, while the other steadied my hip, driving relentlessly.
"You feel so fucking good," he whispered, voice raw and rough. "So tight, Aria. So perfect."
I arched off the bed, trembling as pleasure overwhelmed me. My hands clenched the sheets, and I screamed his name.
His pace never faltered—hips slamming against mine, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin mixing with my moans and his low growls. Sweat glistened on his muscular skin, every movement pulsing with power.
The rhythm shifted—frantic, then slow and deep, lingering on every sensation before exploding wild and intense again, as if he couldn't hold back.
He slid out then inside me slowly, the heat and fullness hitting me all at once. I gasped, breath catching as he started moving deeper, harder, every stroke burning with an intensity I hadn't expected. The rawness between us, no barrier, made everything feel sharper, more real.
My body tensed, pleasure building like a storm ready to break. Then, suddenly, I shuddered, muscles clenching tightly around him as a wild wave crashed through me. I tried to scream, but all that came out was a breathless moan. In that moment, a sudden, silent shock hit me—we'd done this raw, with nothing between us.
I kept that thought locked tight inside, swallowing the fear and disbelief. Afterward, he gathered me against his chest, his lips brushing my hair, his hands tracing lazy circles on my skin.
"Stay," I whispered, my voice small. "Don't leave yet."
His arm tightened around me, and he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm not going anywhere."
I believed him. I let my eyes close, wrapped in his warmth, convinced the night had changed everything.
But when morning came, I reached for him and found only cold sheets. The pillow beside me smelled of his cologne..
And that was when it broke me because I had given him everything, and he had slipped away like it was nothing.
[END FLASHBACK]
The accusation hit her like a punch. "You think I planned this?"
He moved closer. "I think you saw an opportunity." His voice dripped with contempt. "A backup plan for when the marriage inevitably failed."
My hands shook. "That's not"
He kept going. "You trapped me, Aria." He leaned down, his face inches from mine. "But I won't be trapped by your schemes. Get rid of it."
The cruelty of it stole my breath.
My voice broke. "This is your child." I pressed my hand to my stomach. "Our baby"
He turned away. "There is no 'our' anything." He walked back to his desk. "The marriage was a mistake. The sooner we end it, the better."
The office doors opened.
Vivian walked in like she owned the place. She wore a tight red dress and a smile that made my skin crawl.
She glanced at me. "Oh." Her voice was sugary. "I didn't realize you had... company."
Damien's expression softened when he looked at her.
My sister walked to his side, her hand trailing across his desk. "Should I come back later?"
He shook his head. "No, Aria was just leaving."
I stared at both of them. "Are you kidding me?"
Vivian smiled at me. "Didn't he tell you?" She moved closer to Damien. "We're together now. Officially."
The room spun.
The implication was clear. I had.
My hand trembled over my stomach. "I came here thinking..." Tears spilled down my cheeks. "I thought maybe the baby would matter. That you'd"
He cut me off. "Care?" His laugh was bitter. "I don't care, Aria. I never did." He returned to his desk. "Get the abortion. Sign the papers. Then get out of my life."
Something inside me died at that moment.
I wiped my tears. "No."
His eyes snapped to mine. "Excuse me?"
My voice steadied. "I said no." I pressed both hands to my stomach. "I'm keeping this baby. With or without you."
Damien's jaw clenched. "Then you'll do it without a cent from me." He sat down. "I'll have my lawyers prove the child isn't mine. You'll get nothing."
Vivian's smile was triumphant.
I looked at the man I'd fallen for at that lodge. The man who'd held me and asked me to stay. But that man had never existed. This was who he really was—cold, cruel, unfeeling.
My voice was barely a whisper. "I will never forgive you for this."
Damien's expression didn't change. "I don't need your forgiveness." He turned to his computer, dismissing me. "I need you gone."
I walked to the doors on shaking legs.
Vivian's voice followed me. "Don't bother coming back, Aria." She laughed. "You're not wanted here."
I paused at the doors, looking back one last time.
Damien didn't even glance up.
I walked out of his office, out of the building, out of his life.
Back at the Riverside Inn where I'd been staying, a small, budget place on the edge of town, I collapsed on the bed and let myself break completely.
My hand rested on my stomach as tears streamed down my face.
But underneath the pain, I felt Rage.
He'd thrown me away. Twice now. Humiliated me. Accused me of scheming when I'd only ever tried to love him.
Fine.
If he wanted to see me as a schemer, I'd show him what that really looked like.