Chapter 12 - THE SON WHO WAS NEVER A VASIC
Damien did not speak.
Sofia walked into the boardroom alone.
No Stefan.
No champagne.
No smile.
She looked exhausted.
“Mother.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
Damien laughed quietly.
“Everyone in this family seems to specialize in that sentence.”
Elena remained near him.
Not touching.
Not yet.
“Who is my father?” Damien asked.
Sofia looked toward the windows.
“Petar Radic.”
The name hit everyone.
Elena’s mother had once been intended for Petar Radic.
Sofia had apparently known him too.
Damien’s voice cracked.
“The rival shipping family?”
“Yes.”
“Did Viktor know?”
“From the beginning.”
Silence.
“Then why raise me?”
“Because he loved me.”
Damien stared.
“And me?”
Sofia cried.
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
“He chose you.”
Damien looked away.
The words should have comforted him.
They didn’t.
Henry’s claim now made sense.
If Damien was not biologically Vasic, then the family trust might be challenged.
Unless Viktor had known and written around it.
Ronan searched the trust language.
He found it.
Descendants by birth, adoption, or acknowledged parentage.
Viktor had acknowledged Damien legally and privately in sealed documents.
The inheritance stood.
But Stefan’s grievance changed shape.
“He knew?” Elena asked Sofia.
“That Damien wasn’t biological?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Since he was seventeen.”
Damien looked at her.
“And you never wondered why he hated me?”
“I knew why.”
That was brutal.
Sofia continued.
“Stefan believed Viktor loved you more because he chose you.”
Damien closed his eyes.
Where Stefan saw theft, Viktor may have seen fatherhood.
Where Damien saw inheritance, Stefan saw replacement.
None of it justified what followed.
But it explained the poison.
“Why did you go with Stefan?” Elena asked.
Sofia looked ashamed.
“Because he called me.”
“That’s all?”
“He said he was sick.”
Damien’s face changed.
“What?”
“Liver cancer.”
Silence.
“Stage four.”
Elena understood immediately.
The timing.
The desperation.
The aggressive moves.
Stefan was dying.
“How long?” Damien asked.
“Months.”
Sofia cried.
“He said he wanted to fix things.”
Ronan said softly:
“He meant secure control before he died.”
Sofia nodded.
“I know that now.”
“Where is he?”
“I left him in Halifax.”
“Why?”
“Because I heard him order someone to take Elena after the baby was born.”
Damien’s expression turned lethal.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Elena felt the baby move hard.
She pressed a hand to her stomach.
Sofia came closer.
“Elena, he said you didn’t need to be hurt.”
“That sentence has a terrible record in this family.”
Sofia looked down.
“He wanted the baby transferred to a private residence until trusteeship was resolved.”
Damien stared.
“He was going to kidnap my daughter.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then Elena’s abdomen tightened.
Sharp.
She inhaled.
Damien immediately noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Another tightening.
Longer.
Ronan looked at her.
“Is that a contraction?”
“No.”
Damien’s eyes widened.
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been pregnant for eight months.”
Another.
Elena gripped the chair.
Okay.
Maybe.
Gabrielle moved closer.
“We should call your doctor.”
“I’m thirty-four weeks.”
“Exactly.”
Within fifteen minutes, Elena was at Massachusetts General.
Monitoring.
Fluids.
Tests.
The contractions slowed.
Not labor.
Stress-induced uterine irritability, the doctor said.
Rest.
Hydration.
No more boardroom confrontations if possible.
Elena almost laughed.
Damien sat outside the exam room because she had not invited him in.
After an hour, she opened the door.
“You can come.”
He entered quietly.
She had never seen him look so relieved.
He sat.
“Is she okay?”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“Yes.”
He looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
“For which thing?”
“All of them.”
Elena studied him.
“Do you love Gabrielle?”
His answer came slowly.
“No.”
“Did you?”
“I thought I did.”
“Do you love me?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t solve anything.”
“I know.”
Good answer.
She leaned back.
“I don’t know whether our marriage survives.”
His face tightened.
“I know.”
“I won’t make that decision while pregnant and threatened.”
“I know.”
“I need honesty from now on.”
“Yes.”
“No editing.”
“Yes.”
“No deciding what I can handle.”
His eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
Then his phone rang.
Ronan.
Damien answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
He stood.
Elena’s stomach tightened for an entirely different reason.
“What happened?”
Damien lowered the phone.
“Stefan crossed the border.”
“Into the U.S.?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
He looked at her.
“Boston.”
Then Elena’s bedside television flickered.
The hospital channel vanished.
A live camera appeared.
The Vasic apartment nursery.
Empty.
Someone stood inside wearing a dark coat.
Stefan.
He looked directly into the camera.
Then held up Elena’s wedding ring.
May you like
The one she had left beside the coffee.
“I think we should finally discuss what this marriage was really for.”
