The boardroom didn't fall silent.
It froze.
Not because anyone had spoken—but because Damian Blackwood was standing.
When the CEO rose, conversations died. Breath held. Even the city outside the floor-to-ceiling glass seemed to pause beneath the weight of his presence.
Damian stood with his back to the room, hands clasped behind him, gaze fixed on the skyline he owned in ways no one could prove. Cold. Immaculate. Unreachable. The kind of man whose disappointment ruined careers and whose approval bought loyalty for life.
He didn't tolerate interruptions.
He didn't tolerate mistakes.
So when the door burst open without a knock—
Every executive flinched.
Damian didn't turn.
"There had better be a fire," he said calmly.
The head of security, Lucas Grant, looked like he was seconds from losing his job—or his nerve.
"Sir," Lucas said, voice tight. "This… this couldn't wait."
Damian exhaled once. Slowly. Then turned.
The room braced itself.
"Speak."
Lucas swallowed. "We found something at the airport."
Damian's eyes hardened. "And why," he asked evenly, "is that my problem?"
Lucas hesitated.
A fatal mistake.
"They're children," Lucas said quickly. "Twins."
A murmur rippled through the boardroom.
Damian's expression didn't change—but something sharp flickered behind his eyes.
"Continue."
Lucas lifted his phone with unsteady hands and turned the screen around.
The world tilted.
Two little boys stared back from the screen.
Identical.
Dark hair. Pale skin. Sharp grey eyes too old for their small faces. One had a faint dimple when he smiled. The other looked serious—almost guarded.
They looked—
No.
Damian stepped forward once. Slowly.
"Zoom in," he ordered.
Lucas did.
And there it was.
The birthmark.
Behind the right ear.
The exact same one Damian had carried since birth.
The room erupted into stunned whispers.
Damian didn't hear them.
The sound in his ears was too loud.
A pounding. A roaring.
Impossible.
"That's not funny," Damian said quietly.
Lucas shook his head. "Sir… airport staff detained them temporarily. They arrived with a woman . The boys had no identification—except this."
He reached into his jacket and placed a small, worn wallet on the table.
Damian didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Lucas opened it.
A photograph slid out.
A girl standing in sunlight, laughing like she trusted the world to catch her if she fell.
Soft eyes. Familiar smile.
Lena Hart.
The name Damian Blackwood had buried three years ago.
The woman he had married.
The woman who had vanished.
His fingers curled into fists.
"Where are the boys?" he asked, voice dangerously calm.
"In the executive lounge. They're… composed. Polite. One of them asked if he could have apple juice."
Something cracked in Damian's chest.
Three years.
Three years since Lena had disappeared without a word.
Three years of unanswered questions.
Three years of silence.
And now—
"Bring them to my private suite," Damian said.
Lucas hesitated. "Sir—"
"Now."
The door closed behind them.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
Damian turned back to the window—but the city no longer existed.
Because there was only one explanation.
Only one woman whose children could look like this.
And the past he'd tried to erase came rushing back.
THREE YEARS EARLIER
Lena Hart had walked into his life like sunlight he hadn't asked for.
She was twenty-two. Nervous. Brilliant. Overqualified and underconfident, clutching her resume like it was armor.
She said his name wrong.
"Mr. Black-woodle."
The room had gone silent.
Damian had almost smiled.
Almost.
She became his secretary a week later.
She worked quietly. Efficiently. Thoughtfully. She remembered his preferences, anticipated his needs, and smiled at him like he wasn't a man people feared.
She loved him.
It was obvious.
He pretended not to see it.
Because love was a liability.
Until his grandmother summoned him.
"Find a wife," she'd said. "Before I die."
He'd argued. Refused.
She'd threatened his inheritance.
He'd caved.
And Lena had been convenient.
"Marry me," he'd said coldly.
Her hands had shaken. "You're serious?"
"One year. Contract marriage. Nothing more."
She said yes anyway.
Because she loved him.
He gave her rules.
No affection.
No shared bed.
No questions.
And most importantly—
No pregnancy.
She signed with trembling fingers.
And then one night—
A storm.
A blackout.
A mistake.
A night he tried to forget.
A night she never could.
She vanished before he realized the cost.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Just gone.
PRESENT DAY
"Sir?" Lucas's voice cut through the memory. "The twins are waiting."
Damian straightened.
His sons.
Orphans of his cruelty.
And if Lena was alive—
If she'd returned—
She wasn't leaving again.
Not without answers.
Not without consequences.
And certainly not without him.
"Bring them in," Damian said.
Because his past had finally caught up with him.
And this time—
He was ready to face it.