Chapter Fourteen: Power & Bloodlines
Veronica Wolfe
She stepped out of her black car like she owned the pavement, designer coat billowing behind her, pearls sharp against her neck like a warning.
Veronica Wolfe never entered a room she didn't intend to own.
The concierge bowed as she walked into Wolfe Tower's executive lobby, but her eyes were already scanning.
She didn't bother with the elevator buttons. She had a private override key. Top floor, directly to Damien's office.
Her son had been quiet lately.
Too quiet.
And that always meant one of two things: he was falling in love… or making a mistake.
Usually both.
When she entered his office unannounced, he didn't look up from his laptop.
"I'm busy," he said coolly.
"And I'm your mother," she replied, walking in like a storm in stilettos. "Which means I get answers, not attitude."
Damien glanced up, tone dark. "Then ask your questions, and go."
Veronica sat down slowly. Crossed her legs. "Who is the child?"
The silence was knife-sharp.
"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about, Damien. I've heard whispers. Photos. A woman you once married… and a child no one knew existed. A child with Wolfe eyes."
Damien clenched his jaw.
"He's mine," he said flatly. "And his name is Liam."
Veronica exhaled. Slowly. Disapprovingly.
"You understand what this means," she said.
"Yes," Damien said. "That I have something more important than this empire now."
Veronica's lips twitched. Almost a smile. But not warmth. Calculation.
"You've just declared war on the board, Damien. And on me."
"Then start planning your next move," he said. "Because I already made mine."
Chapter Fifteen: Almost Kiss
Ava
The apartment was quiet.
Too quiet.
Liam had fallen asleep again, curled on the couch after his playdate with Damien—dreaming in Legos and juice boxes.
Damien lingered at the kitchen counter, sipping tea like he'd done it a hundred times. Like he belonged here.
"Want to stay for dinner?" Ava asked before she could stop herself.
He looked up, surprised. "Are you sure?"
No. But she said, "Yeah."
It felt… normal. A man, a woman, a sleeping child. Like the family they could've been, in another timeline.
They talked. Laughed, even. About nonsense. The way Liam hated broccoli but loved kale chips. How he pronounced 'asteroid' like as-toad. How he'd already learned to lie about brushing his teeth.
And as the night deepened, so did the silence between them.
Damien stood behind her at the sink as she rinsed dishes. Close. Too close.
"I missed this," he said softly. "You. Us. The way it felt before we fell apart."
She turned.
Their eyes met.
And everything paused.
He reached out—slowly, reverently—tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Her breath caught.
His fingers brushed her cheek.
Their faces inches apart.
Ava's heart thundered. She should step back. Run. But—
He leaned in.
Close.
Closer.
Until—
Liam coughed in the other room.
Reality snapped like a rubber band.
Ava blinked. Took a step back. "I… I should check on him."
Damien nodded, jaw tight.
She left the room.
And neither of them said what they almost did:
> "I still love you."