Kaia’s POV
It had all started with a whisper.
The first time Damion had mentioned the child, I knew something was wrong. The way his voice caught when he asked about Nathan, the way his eyes lingered on the boy as if searching for a reflection of himself—it was like watching a man unravel in slow motion.
And I couldn’t let that happen.
Not again.
Because I knew, deep down, that if Nathan was Damion’s son, everything I had worked for—the life I’d carefully built with him—would fall apart.
So I did what I always did. I found a way to control the narrative.
It hadn’t been difficult. Manipulation never was when you understood a man’s vulnerabilities. And Damion’s greatest vulnerability was his desperate need for closure.
I hadn’t even needed to convince him.
“It’s the only way,” I had
