THE WRONG MAN'S BABY

Damian's POV The Cole estate hasn't changed in twenty years. It sits on the highest hill like a monument to pride, its sprawling gardens manicured within an inch of their lives. White columns, black iron gates, marble floors polished until they shine. The same as it's always been. Most people see power when they look at this house. I see chains. The driver slows to a stop in front of the grand staircase. Through the tall windows of the drawing room, I can already see them waiting. My father pacing, fists tight at his sides. My mother sitting gracefully on the couch, pearls at her throat and a glass of white wine in her hand. They look like royalty ready to judge their heir. I adjust my tie, not because I care but because they'll notice if I don't, and step inside. The drawing room smells like old money and judgment. My father wheels on me the second I enter, newspaper in his hand, crumpled from being read and reread. My mother's gaze flicks over me, sharp, assessing, like she's searching for weakness. "Damian." Her voice is smooth as silk, but her eyes are steel. "We need to talk." "Obviously." I step further into the room. My father slaps the newspaper onto the coffee table with a loud crack. The headline screams up at me: COLE EMPIRE SHAKEN BY PREGNANCY SCANDAL. My jaw tightens. I don't flinch. "Do you have any idea how humiliating this is?" my father thunders. "Your face splashed across every paper, every channel, tied to a pregnant stranger? Our investors are calling nonstop. Do you know what this looks like?" "Yes," I say evenly. "It looks like Adrian's mistake." His eyes flare. "Don't you dare pin this on your brother." "Who else should I pin it on?" I snap. "He's the one who...." "Enough!" My father's voice cracks like a whip. "The world doesn't see him, Damian. They see you. The heir. The name. You represent this family, this empire, and you've let your brother's filth stain it again." My blood simmers. I glance at my mother, expecting her to intervene, but she only sips her wine calmly. "Adrian has always been... reckless," she says finally. "Reckless?" I laugh harshly. "That's your word for destroying people? For gambling away fortunes and running from responsibility? Reckless?" Her lips tighten, but she doesn't disagree. I look back at my father. "If you're angry about this scandal, then be angry at him. He's the one who left her alone." My father's glare sharpens. "This isn't about Adrian. This is about you. The responsibility is yours because you're the one people look at. And you've failed." "Failed?" My fists curl. "You mean because I didn't bury her? Because I didn't silence her before she could humiliate us in public?" "You should have controlled the situation." His voice is ice. "Instead you allowed yourself to be slapped like a fool in front of half the city." My mother sets her glass down with a soft clink. "Darling, listen to reason. Ariana Blake isn't cut from the same cloth. She doesn't belong in our world. And if she stays in the spotlight, she'll drag you down with her." "Don't call her that," I growl. Her brows lift, interest flashing in her eyes. "That defensive, are we?" I bite down on my temper. "She didn't ask for this. Adrian used her. He left her with his child and walked away. She's a victim of his carelessness, not the cause." "She chose to open her mouth," my father spits. "She chose to embarrass us. That makes her the enemy." I step closer, voice hard. "No. The enemy is the son you refuse to hold accountable." The silence that follows is deafening. My father's face reddens, his jaw locked tight. My mother studies me like she's watching a game of chess and I've just made an unexpected move. Finally, my father slams his hand on the table. "Enough. If you won't handle this, I will." My gut tightens. "What does that mean?" "It means we'll make her go away," he says coldly. "A check, a contract, whatever it takes. We'll erase her from this narrative before she drags our name through the mud any further." "No." My voice cuts through the room like glass shattering. Both of them freeze. "I'm not paying her off," I continue, steady, unyielding. "I'm not cutting ties. And I sure as hell won't let you destroy her because you care more about headlines than human beings." My mother leans back slowly, folding her hands in her lap. "You're unusually... invested." I don't answer. Because if I do, I'll have to admit the truth, that Ariana's fire has already burned through the walls I've spent years building. My father points a trembling finger at me. "You will not let one reckless girl bring down everything I built!" "She's not reckless," I fire back. "She's stronger than you'll ever understand. And she deserves better than being tossed aside because you're afraid of bad press." His face hardens. "If you won't do what needs to be done, then don't expect me to protect you. The board won't tolerate weakness. And neither will I." "Then don't," I snap. "I'll handle it myself." I leave them in stunned silence, my footsteps echoing through the marble halls. The night air outside is sharp against my skin. I rip at my tie, sucking in lungfuls of air like I've just broken out of prison. But the weight doesn't lift. Because as much as I hate admitting it, my parents aren't entirely wrong. This scandal is poison. It will spread. It will get worse. And Ariana? She doesn't know what she's up against. The press. The whispers. The way this world chews people up and spits them out. She thinks she can survive it alone. But she's wrong. And the thought of her being destroyed because of Adrian's chaos makes something dangerous coil in my chest. So maybe my parents don't understand. Maybe they never will. But Ariana isn't just another problem to solve. She's my responsibility now. Whether she likes it or not.