CHAPTER 14: Beneath the Surface

Aurora had never felt so out of place—and so utterly exposed.

The Blackwood penthouse was something out of a glossy magazine, all marble floors and sweeping views of the city that glittered like diamonds under a velvet sky. It was silent except for the occasional hum of security systems and the distant city beyond the bulletproof windows.

Noah had fallen asleep in one of the guest suites, surrounded by fluffy pillows, warm lighting, and the quiet comfort of a place he didn't yet realize was meant to keep him safe.

Aurora, however, wasn't fooled.

This wasn't comfort.

This was a fortress.

And fortresses only existed when someone was coming for war.

She stood by the glass wall in the grand living area, looking out across the skyline. Her reflection stared back at her—tired eyes, tangled curls, and a heart she wasn't sure was strong enough to survive another blow.

Damien stepped into the room behind her, quiet as a ghost, dressed in black slacks and a crisp grey sweater that only made his shoulders look broader, his jaw sharper.

He didn't speak at first. Just stood beside her, hands in his pockets, watching the same city she was.

"He's safe," he finally said. "I doubled the guards around his room."

Aurora nodded without looking at him. "You think your brother's watching us?"

"I know he is." Damien's voice was low. "Julian's always been patient. He waits. He strikes when it hurts most. Sabrina was just his distraction. But he's after something bigger."

She turned to face him. "Why now? Why come after us now?"

Damien hesitated, then walked over to the sleek bar cart in the corner and poured two glasses of whiskey. He handed one to her, but she didn't drink.

"I cut him out," he said finally. "From the board. From the family trust. I'd warned him for years to stop embezzling funds, to stop leveraging our family name for his own shady side deals. He laughed in my face. I gave him one final chance six months ago. He spat in my face." Damien took a sip, his eyes dark. "So I cut him out. Legally. Financially. Publicly."

Aurora exhaled slowly. "And he's trying to ruin you for it."

"No." Damien's eyes met hers. "He's trying to ruin you. Because I care about you. Because of Noah. And because he knows the only thing I've ever truly feared losing… is the family I never thought I'd deserve."

Aurora felt the air shift between them.

Damien stepped closer. "He's coming for what he thinks I love most."

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Do you?"

His brow furrowed. "Do I what?"

"Love us."

A pause.

Not for uncertainty—but for weight.

Then, softly but fiercely: "Yes."

Aurora's breath hitched.

Damien reached out, brushing a curl from her face. "I've loved you since before I understood what love was, Aurora. And I never stopped—not even when you walked away."

"You didn't chase me," she whispered, the old wound still tender.

"I was young. Stupid. Proud. And I believed you were safer without me." His jaw tightened. "But I was wrong. I should've fought for you. I should've been there—for both of you."

Aurora looked down at her untouched drink.

"I'm scared, Damien."

"I know." His fingers gently found hers. "But you're not alone anymore."

She looked up at him, the walls around her heart trembling.

Then a chime echoed through the penthouse—a security alert.

Damien moved fast, pressing a hidden panel near the fireplace.

"Maxwell?" he barked into the intercom.

Maxwell's voice was immediate. "Tripwire on the eastern perimeter. No breach. Cameras show motion—could be a drone or someone testing us."

Aurora's heart pounded. "You think it's Julian?"

Damien's eyes narrowed. "I think he's testing how close he can get."

---

The next morning, Aurora couldn't stomach breakfast.

Noah, on the other hand, was thrilled by the spread of waffles, bacon, strawberries, and every cereal he'd ever dreamed of.

"I like it here," he said with a mouthful of whipped cream. "Can we stay forever?"

Aurora smiled faintly, brushing a hand over his curls. "Just until we're safe, sweetie."

"From the bad guys?" he asked.

She nodded, her throat tight. "From the bad guys."

Damien entered, looking far too composed for someone who hadn't slept. "I have to go into the office. Just for a few hours. I'll be back by lunch."

Aurora stood. "Are you sure that's wise?"

He nodded grimly. "Julian's trying to move on the company. I need to be present. Reassure investors. Keep control."

"What about us?"

"You'll have full security here. Maxwell's not leaving your side."

Aurora hated the thought of him leaving—but she understood.

Damien turned to Noah, ruffling his hair. "You take care of your mom for me, okay, little man?"

Noah saluted dramatically. "Yes, sir!"

Damien looked at Aurora. "Can I talk to you? Privately?"

She followed him into the hallway just outside the dining room.

He hesitated before speaking.

"If anything happens—if someone gets in—you take Noah and run. There's a panic elevator in the wine cellar. It leads to a private car two levels below ground. No one but you, Maxwell, and I know the access code."

She stared at him. "You think it could get that bad?"

Damien's jaw clenched. "I know Julian. He's desperate. He's dangerous. And he's running out of time."

Aurora reached up and cupped his face. "Then come back to us."

He leaned into her palm for a heartbeat. "I will."

Then he kissed her—soft and sure and full of a promise she hadn't dared let herself hope for.

---

At Blackwood Global, the mood was tense.

Damien entered the executive boardroom like a storm wrapped in Armani.

The senior partners rose, nervous, exchanging glances. A few tried to smile. Others simply avoided his gaze.

Julian Blackwood was not present.

Damien took his seat at the head of the table and placed a manila folder in front of him.

"Let's get something straight," he began. "There's been chatter. Whispers about leadership changes. About instability."

He scanned the room slowly.

"I'm here to tell you—Blackwood Global is not unstable. It's not changing hands. And I'm not going anywhere."

The silence was thick.

Then he opened the folder.

Documents. Proof of Julian's off-the-books transactions. Laundered funds. Bribes. Shell companies.

Damien slid the pages forward.

"I suggest you choose which Blackwood you want to follow. Because one of us is going to prison."

---

Back at the penthouse, Aurora wandered the halls, restless.

She stopped in Damien's study. The room smelled like cedarwood and clean paper. A wall of books lined one side. A massive desk dominated the other.

She wasn't snooping—not really.

But something pulled her toward the desk.

On top of it sat a photo. Old. Worn at the edges.

It was her.

Pregnant. Laughing. Sitting on a park bench.

Damien must've taken it without her knowing, years ago.

Her breath caught.

He'd kept it all this time.

She opened the drawer below—and froze.

Inside was a stack of letters. Each one dated. Unsent. All addressed to her.

She pulled the top one out.

"Aurora, if you're reading this, it means I finally found the courage to try again..."

Her hands trembled.

He had tried. Or at least, he'd wanted to.

Tears blurred her vision as she read letter after letter—regret, longing, apologies. Hopes he'd never voiced. Pain he'd never shown.

Behind his silence had been a storm of feeling.

She sank into the leather chair, clutching the letters like a lifeline.

This wasn't just about Julian.

This was about the years lost. The love that never died. The life they almost had.

And now—maybe, just maybe—still could.

---

But across the city, Julian Blackwood was done waiting.

He stood on the rooftop of a building adjacent to Blackwood Global, dressed in a tailored navy coat, a phone to his ear.

"Is it ready?" he asked the voice on the other end.

"Yes, sir. She'll receive it in less than an hour. Just like we planned."

"Perfect," Julian said, smiling coldly. "Let's remind dear Aurora what it's like to lose everything."

---

At 11:47 a.m., the package arrived at the penthouse.

A security guard brought it in, unsure.

"No label," he said. "No return address."

Maxwell frowned. "Leave it here."

Aurora, holding a letter from Damien in her hand, turned toward the box.

Something about it felt wrong.

She touched the cardboard—it was cold. Too cold.

She glanced at Maxwell. "Should we open it?"

He nodded, drawing a knife from his belt.

As he sliced it open, a flash of red appeared inside.

Aurora stepped back.

Maxwell pulled it out.

A stuffed elephant.

Noah's.

Bloodstained.

Aurora's scream shattered the silence.

Maxwell ripped the rest of the box apart. A note fluttered out.

"This is your first warning. The next will be real."

Aurora collapsed to her knees, clutching the elephant.

The game had changed.

And now—it was personal.

---