Bloodline

Damien shook hands firmly with the representative and replied with a poised smile, "I will certainly be waiting to welcome you."

The moment the representative left, the warmth on Damien's face vanished like melting frost.

His sharp, narrow eyes darkened, and the coldness radiating from him was palpable.

That woman… dared to get pregnant without his knowledge?

He had nearly lost control of his emotions during the negotiation—had almost jeopardized a multi-billion dollar contract.

Unforgivable.

She thought having his child was as simple as that?

She was about to learn exactly who she had crossed.

Damien turned abruptly, his long legs striding toward the exit with quiet fury. The atmosphere around him chilled instantly. His assistants exchanged anxious glances but didn't dare to speak. Just minutes ago, the president had been the picture of composed elegance during a critical business meeting. Now, the storm is back.

Without a word, they trailed him.

Damien walked out of the building, slid into his Aston Martin One-77, and with a sharp growl of the engine, tore down the street.

The car—a rare luxury worth 77 million—shot forward like a predator unleashed. In seconds, he had disappeared from sight.

The assistants scrambled outside just in time to see the tail lights vanishing around the corner.

"Go! Follow him!" one of them shouted in panic.

No doubt about it—he was furious. And when Damien Rourke was furious, the consequences were always... memorable.

Inside the speeding vehicle, Damien dialed his hospital assistant.

"What's going on?" His voice was low, but dangerous.

Jack, clutching the phone with trembling fingers, answered excitedly, "President, the doctor just completed the tests. The female staff member is six weeks pregnant. The baby is healthy."

Damien's expression didn't flinch, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Six weeks?

There was no mistake. That night... the woman had been a virgin. He had been her first. There could be no one else.

Which meant the child… was his.

The air in the car seemed to grow colder.

No wonder she'd refused the money.

He'd offered a check—more than enough for someone like her. But she'd turned it down.

Now it all made sense.

What was a few hundred million compared to bearing the heir to the Rourke Family?

The child of Damien Rourke… this woman was more cunning than he had imagined.

And he had misjudged her.

Thought she was innocent.

He slammed the brakes outside the hospital, bringing the Aston Martin to a sharp, precise stop.

When he stepped out, he was greeted by an unexpected sight—every member of the hospital's staff, from the doctors to the director, was lined up at the entrance, clearly waiting for someone important.

Damien frowned. He hadn't alerted anyone. Why the welcome?

The hospital director recognized him and immediately rushed forward.

"President Rourke, what an honor. Is there anything we can do for you today?"

Damien narrowed his eyes.

"Who are you waiting for?" he asked coldly. "Quite the show."

The director bowed politely. "Ah, the chairman is here. She's currently inside."

Damien stiffened.

Chairman? His grandmother?

Why would she be here? Her medical needs were always handled at home by private staff. She never visited the hospital unless something significant happened.

Unless...

A sudden wave of unease swept through him.

"Where is she now?" he demanded.

"In the VIP ward on the top floor," the director replied.

Damien didn't wait for another word. He stormed into the exclusive elevator.

The VIP suite was more like a penthouse than a hospital room—panoramic skylight, floor-to-ceiling windows, imported rugs, chandeliers crafted for royalty, furniture by elite designers. Even the screws used in the decor had been handcrafted and flown in.

This ward was reserved only for direct members of the Rourke bloodline—him, his parents, his future wife, and their children.

No collateral relatives. No exceptions.

As he approached the suite, he heard the sound of cheerful laughter.

His grandmother's voice rang out warmly. "Good, good! As long as this child grows up healthy, our Rourke family will treat you generously."

Damien's jaw clenched.

He turned the corner and stepped into view just as his grandmother was smiling and chatting with the hospital's chief gynecologist—the one who oversaw all Rourke family pregnancies.

The medical staff bowed at once.

"Congratulations, Chairman. Congratulations, President," the doctor said respectfully. "The young lady is in excellent health, and the child is developing beautifully."

Those words made Damien's heart sink.

His voice was sharp as a blade. "Grandmother."

He scanned the room, his intense gaze forcing the staff to instinctively step back.

"You may leave," he added coldly. "I need to speak to the chairman privately."