Chapter 3 - What Claire Never Told Him
Damian stared at the message until the screen dimmed.
Claire watched his face.
"Your father is dead."
Damian lifted his eyes.
"He is."
"Then who sent that?"
"I don't know."
Marco stepped closer.
"Boss."
Damian handed him the phone.
"Trace everything."
Marco nodded.
Claire hugged herself.
She knew enough about Damian's family to understand why one sentence could unsettle him.
Alistair Blackwood had ruled the Blackwood organization before Damian.
He was feared.
Respected.
And officially dead for six years.
A heart attack.
Private funeral.
Closed casket.
Claire had attended.
She remembered Damian standing beside the grave without shedding a tear.
"Was that his voice on the recording?" she asked.
Damian didn't answer immediately.
"Yes."
Claire sat.
"So four years ago, Sebastian told your father I was pregnant."
"It appears that way."
"But your father was supposedly dead two years later."
"Yes."
"Why would he want to keep Lily from you?"
Damian's gaze shifted upstairs.
"Because my father believed family made men weak."
Claire almost laughed at the irony.
"He had a strange way of proving that."
"My mother wanted me out of the business."
"And he didn't?"
"No."
Damian walked toward the window.
"He spent my entire childhood teaching me that love was leverage. My mother spent hers trying to convince me he was wrong."
"And when someone threatened me?"
"I proved him right."
Claire said nothing.
Damian turned.
"I pushed you away."
"Yes."
"I told myself it was strategy."
"It was cowardice."
His eyes darkened.
But he didn't disagree.
Marco's laptop chimed.
"Got something."
They gathered around.
"The number bounced through an old Blackwood property."
"Which one?" Damian asked.
Marco hesitated.
"Your father's house."
Damian went still.
Claire knew the estate.
Everyone did.
Blackwood Manor sat outside the city, abandoned since Alistair's death.
Damian had refused to live there.
"Someone wants you to go there," Claire said.
"Obviously."
"So don't."
Damian almost smiled.
"You really haven't changed."
"Neither have you."
He looked toward the stairs again.
"No. I have."
Claire wanted to believe him.
That was what frightened her.
Over the next morning, Damian remained at the estate.
For Lily.
Claire knew it.
Old Damian would have driven straight toward the threat.
This Damian stayed.
He ate breakfast at the kitchen island while Lily interrogated him.
"Why do you always wear black?"
"I like black."
"That's boring."
Damian looked offended.
Claire nearly choked on her coffee.
Lily pointed to his watch.
"Is that real gold?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Damian glanced at Claire.
"I don't know."
Lily nodded wisely.
"Mommy says expensive things don't make people nice."
Damian raised an eyebrow.
"Does she?"
"Yep."
Claire hid her smile behind the mug.
"Mommy says rich people sometimes forget how normal people live."
"Really."
"Yep."
"Anything else?"
"Lily."
Claire warned.
Her daughter leaned toward Damian.
"She said you're very complicated."
Claire almost dropped the mug.
Damian looked at her.
"I see."
"I did not say—"
"You did," Lily announced.
Damian's mouth curved.
It was the first true smile Claire had seen from him.
For half a second, he looked like the man she'd loved.
That terrified her more than the threats.
After breakfast, Lily asked Damian to help with a puzzle.
He had never looked more uncomfortable.
The puzzle had thirty pieces.
Lily took pity on him.
"That goes there."
"I knew."
"No, you didn't."
Claire stood in the doorway watching them.
Something inside her hurt.
She had spent four years imagining Lily without a father because it was safer than imagining Damian with her.
Now Lily laughed when Damian put a piece upside down.
Damian laughed too.
It was small.
Rusty.
Real.
Claire left before either saw her crying.
That afternoon, Marco found more.
Sebastian had visited Claire's town twice in the past year.
Damian's face hardened.
"Why?"
"No idea."
Claire felt sick.
"When?"
Marco gave the dates.
Claire recognized one.
"Lily's birthday."
Damian looked at her.
"You saw him?"
"No."
"Anyone strange around the café?"
Claire thought.
Then remembered.
A man sitting outside in a gray coat.
Never ordering.
Watching.
She had assumed he was waiting for someone.
Damian paced.
"I want Sebastian found."
"Already working on it."
Claire shook her head.
"Something doesn't make sense."
Both men looked at her.
"If Sebastian wanted Lily hidden, why watch her for years? Why not expose her to you sooner?"
Marco frowned.
Damian stopped.
Claire continued.
"And why send you the photograph now?"
"Because I found her," Damian said.
"Exactly."
"So whoever is doing this didn't plan for us to meet."
Damian's eyes sharpened.
"Our meeting was accidental."
"Which means someone panicked."
Marco's phone rang.
He answered.
Then frowned.
"What?"
He listened.
"Send it."
A photograph arrived.
Sebastian.
At an airport.
Two hours earlier.
Leaving the country.
Damian swore under his breath.
"Where?"
"Private flight to Lisbon."
"Stop it."
"Already airborne."
Claire crossed her arms.
"Why run now?"
Damian looked at the image.
"Because he's afraid."
"Of you?"
Damian's answer was immediate.
"No."
Claire understood.
"Of your father."
Silence.
That evening, Claire put Lily to bed.
Lily hugged the stuffed rabbit.
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Is Damian my daddy?"
Claire froze.
Children.
Always faster than adults.
"Why would you ask that?"
"He said he has a girl who's four."
Claire sat on the bed.
"He did."
"And he looks at me funny."
Claire almost smiled.
"Funny how?"
"Like he wants to cry but doesn't know how."
That shattered her.
She smoothed Lily's hair.
"Would it make you happy if he was?"
Lily considered.
"I don't know."
"That's okay."
"Does he love you?"
Claire's throat tightened.
"That's complicated."
Lily sighed dramatically.
"Everything is complicated."
Claire laughed softly.
"Apparently."
A knock came at the bedroom door.
Damian.
He stood outside.
"I need Claire."
Lily waved.
"Night, Damian."
His expression softened.
"Good night, Lily."
Downstairs, he handed Claire a small black box.
She stared.
"What is this?"
"Marco found it in storage."
Claire opened it.
Inside were the baby socks.
The ones she'd intended to give Damian four years ago.
Claire's breath disappeared.
"You kept them?"
"I found the box in my penthouse after you left."
"You opened it?"
"That night."
Claire looked up.
Damian's eyes were full of old pain.
"I didn't understand."
"You saw baby socks and didn't understand?"
"I thought they were for someone else."
She laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
"I was afraid to consider the other possibility."
Claire closed the box.
"You could have called."
"I couldn't."
"You mean you wouldn't."
"Yes."
He stepped closer.
"That is something I will regret for the rest of my life."
Claire looked at him.
No excuses.
No manipulation.
Just regret.
"What do you want from me?"
"Nothing you're not willing to give."
"And Lily?"
"I want the chance to know her."
"You can't walk into her life and disappear again."
"I won't."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"Your world is dangerous."
"So I'll change my world."
Claire almost scoffed.
"Men like you don't change worlds, Damian. You control them."
"Then I'll control mine differently."
Before Claire could answer, Marco entered.
"We have a problem."
Damian turned.
"Sebastian's plane never landed."
Claire's stomach tightened.
"Crash?"
"No."
Marco placed a photograph on the table.
The jet had landed at a private airstrip three hundred miles north.
Sebastian wasn't aboard.
Only the pilot.
And one envelope.
Damian opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Alistair Blackwood.
Taken yesterday.
Alive.
Standing beside a window.
Holding a newspaper dated that morning.
Claire whispered, "Oh my God."
Damian flipped the photograph over.
One sentence.
BRING THE GIRL HOME.
Damian tore the photograph in half.
"No."
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
For several seconds, silence.
Then Alistair Blackwood's voice came through.
"Hello, son."
Damian's face turned to stone.
Claire couldn't hear the rest.
But she saw Damian look upstairs.
Toward Lily.
Then Alistair said something loud enough for Claire to hear.
"Ask Claire what happened the night she tried to leave town."
Damian slowly turned toward her.
Claire went pale.
He lowered the phone.
"What happened that night?"
Claire backed away.
"Damian—"
"What didn't you tell me?"
She had hidden one thing for four years.
One thing she had promised herself Lily would never know.
Now footsteps sounded upstairs.
May you like
Lily's bedroom door opened.
And a man's voice whispered her name.
