A frustrating video call with Agent Sofia Hahn at seven a.m. marked the start of Damian's day.

"Marino escaped," Hahn confirmed, her tone loaded with apprehension.

Damian gripped his phone. "Escaped? How?"

"Someone tipped him off," she replied, frowning at the screen. "It's internal. We're still closing in on who."

He swore under his breath. "Fucking hell. Do you know where Mike may have gone?"

"Southern Europe—Spain or Italy, most likely. He's underground. We're tracking him, but there's nothing solid yet."

A beat of silence hit the conversation before Hahn continued. "He blames you, Mister Scott. For Gemma. For ruining his business. He'll come for what matters most to you, so be prepared."

Damian tapped the red button on the screen, ending the call.

For what matters most to you.

Hahn's warning replayed in his mind, sharp and cutting.

Prepared.

That word stuck with him.

Pacing the length of his home office, he clenched his fists so hard his nails bit into his skin. His muscles ached from how hard he tried to hold himself together. That bastard, Marino, had been cornered, the sting meticulously planned. Yet, he vanished into thin air.

How the hell do you prepare for a devil like Marino?

Damian stopped and stared at his phone when it vibrated. A new text message gaped back at him like an open wound.

> You took Gemma from me. One day, I'll take someone precious from you. A life for a life. MM.

His pulse hammered, heat crawling up the back of his neck. Gemma. He hated that name. Hate. He understood the word. It was simple, cruel, and necessary for him to survive among enemies.

Damian forwarded the message to Hahn, who confirmed it came from a spoofed number. She traced the origin back to an unsuspecting livestock farmer with no connection to Marino. The bastard wasn't working alone—he had help. His network of vermin still existed, spreading his filth.

Damian's phone screen buzzed with updates from Interpol, but none offered answers. No leads, no cracks in Marino's escape. Someone on the inside betrayed them—and until Damian found out who, every step forward felt like chasing a shadow. He learned long ago that people like Marino didn't bluff. He would seek vengeance.

"Damian?"

Chloe's soft voice broke through the silent room. He turned to see her standing in the doorway. She was his sun, and he revolved around her.

"What's wrong?" she asked, stepping inside. She wore one of his sweaters, the fabric stretching over her stomach, her hair loose around her shoulders.

He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face, exhaling hard. "Marino escaped."

Her steps faltered, her fingers curling around her belly. "What?"

"Interpol believes he's in southern Europe," Damian explained. "Spain, Italy, maybe further south. Someone tipped him off before the sting."

Chloe stared at him, her face pale but controlled. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Damian hesitated, then handed her his phone. Her hand trembled as she read the message. When she looked back at him, her eyes were wide with fear.

"A life for a life," she whispered.

"He's coming for me," Damian affirmed. He stepped closer, taking her hand in his. "Not you. Not the baby. Me."

Chloe shook her head, her grip tightening on his hand. "You don't know that. He could come for any of us—Hope, Mina—"

He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her warm cheeks. "I won't let that happen. Mike won't get anywhere near you."

She searched his eyes, her fear breaking through her calm exterior like cracks in a frozen lake. "Damian, you can't control everything. He's already one step ahead."

"I'll take him down before he gets the chance," he growled. "Mother taught me the game."

"Your mother also lost. She died."

"I won't lose."

Chloe pressed her forehead against Damian's chest, her body leaning into his. He held her, feeling the steady rhythm of her breathing. Still, he shivered when he stared out the window. The sky was as dark as night. The wind howled, pelting rain bullets against the glass while the thunder roared, declaring war in the tempest.

The storm outside the safety of his fortified home was nothing compared to the one raging inside him.

***

Three weeks later.

"Can you believe it? Our little girl is three days old," Chloe whispered under the soft light of their private room at Saint Andrew's Hospital. Her fingers smoothed the blanket wrapped snugly around the tiny baby in her arms.

Damian sat beside her on the bed, his gaze locked on them both. "You're incredible. You know that, right?"

"You didn't leave my side." Chloe's voice softened as she looked at him, her eyes glassy with emotion. "You should rest. You look like a wreck, and the nurse told us to sleep when the baby sleeps."

Damian chuckled, his hand brushing against her knee. "You've earned the right to call me that after nineteen hours of labor and two nights of zero sleep."

"Welcome to parenthood," Chloe teased. She rested sideways on the bed, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders in messy waves. The pale blue hospital gown hung loosely on her, and the blush on her cheeks made her look radiant, even in exhaustion.

This was the woman who carried his child for nine long months. The woman who cried, cursed, and clutched his hand throughout labor. He remembered her fiery, hormone-fueled declaration near the end: "I'm never doing this again!"

Yet, Chloe burst into tears of pure, unfiltered joy when the baby arrived. Damian had cut the cord, guided by the midwife's instructions. His hands were steady despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins.

He let out a slow breath, leaning forward to stroke the baby's cheek with the back of his finger. The infant stirred, her tiny fist escaping the blanket. His heart clenched at how impossibly small she was.

"Are you happy with the names we've given her?" Damian asked.

Chloe's lips curved into a soft smile. "Yes. It's who she is." She lowered her gaze, her fingertips tracing her daughter's delicate brow.

Dawn Mei Scott.

Damian had insisted on Mei—a nod to her Chinese heritage. The name meant "beautiful" or "plum blossom," which felt like a perfect match. Dawn, for the new beginning she represented in their lives.

Her soft hair shone under the light, and though her eyes were still newborn-gray, Damian saw glints of hazel. She had Chloe's chin and his unmistakable expressions—a perfect blend of them both.

"She's perfect," Chloe whispered.

"She's you," Damian replied without hesitation.

Chloe tilted her head, throwing a playful grin. "Really? Golden brown hair, grayish hazel eyes? Sure, Damian. She's all me."

He smirked, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. "The best parts of you, then. She's a mix of us."

Chloe shifted Dawn in her arms, bringing her toward him. "Here. Hold your daughter. And be careful with her head."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "I know how to hold my kid, Chloe." He took Dawn into his arms with practiced ease, cradling her tiny frame like she was made of glass. His breath hitched when her eyes opened. "An angel is looking at me."

Chloe leaned back against the pillows, her smile soft. "She can't see clearly yet. The world's still blurry for her."

"Blurry or not, she knows I'm her dad," Damian said. His voice dropped into a soft murmur as he stared into his daughter's face. "Don't you, little treasure?"

Dawn let out a soft hiccup, and he froze, his brows knitting. "What was that? Is that normal?"

Chloe chuckled, her laughter low and comforting. "Relax, honey. She's fine. She's just figuring out how to exist."

He exhaled, his tension melting away as he traced her tiny features with his thumb. "I didn't think it would feel like this."

Chloe tilted her head. "Like what, Dami? You're scaring me here."

"Like I'd burn the whole damn world down for her."

Before she could respond, a sharp knock rapped at the door. It opened, and Chloe's parents stepped in with a bouquet of red roses.

Ida's hands flew to her mouth as her eyes landed on the baby. "Oh, my gorgeous bub," she breathed, her voice trembling with emotion. Glenn followed behind her, his eyes focusing on Dawn.

"She's tiny," he said, moving closer.

"Newborns tend to be, Dad. You're a grandpa now," Chloe said, leaning her head against the pillows.

Damian glanced up at Ida as she stepped closer, her hands twitching as though she wanted to reach out but didn't dare disturb the moment.

"Damian, you're a natural," Ida complimented, her voice full of warmth.

He gave her a faint smile. "That's generous. I'm mostly winging it."

"Well, keep winging it. You're doing fine," Glenn added, placing the roses on the side table.

The new grandparents took turns holding the baby while Damian's eyelids grew heavy. Noticing him yawn, Ida placed Dawn in Damian's arms. "Glenn and I are going to grab a coffee outside. We'll be back in fifteen with a cup for you."

Damian nodded, but his attention stayed on Dawn. Her tiny mouth moved as she squirmed against his chest, her face scrunching. A sharp, high-pitched, and insistent cry followed.

"She's hungry," he said, returning her to Chloe.

Chloe adjusted Dawn against her right breast, her movements rigid as she tried to feed her. Her dark eyebrows knitted when the baby refused.

"It's not working!" she cried.

Acknowledging his wife's struggle, Damian placed one hand over the call button above the bed. With a decisive press, he signaled for help. "Everything's going to be fine," he assured.

Moments later, the door eased open, and a nurse stepped in. Her warm smile calmed the worried couple even as the baby's shrieks grew louder.

"Having trouble?" she asked, stepping closer.

Chloe exhaled, her shoulders dropping slightly. "It's a hit-and-miss. I feel the milk coming, but Dawn's refusing. I can't seem to get it right."

The nurse crouched beside the bed, placing a reassuring hand over Chloe's. "It's completely normal. Let's try together."

Damian stayed at Chloe's side, his sharp eyes following every movement as the nurse guided her and the baby. Finally, Dawn latched on. Chloe let out a sigh of relief.

"There you go," the nurse said, standing up. "Call me if you need anything else."

Chloe leaned back, cradling Dawn with renewed confidence. "That was harder than I expected."

"You're doing terrific, Mamma," Damian murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

As the nurse left, the room settled into a peaceful quiet. Footsteps approached from the hallway, followed by the gentle creak of the door opening wider. Ida peeked her head inside, her eyes lighting up.

"We thought you might be ready for some coffee," she whispered, handing Damian his coffee. Glenn followed behind, carrying two steaming cups, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the room.

Ida stroked Dawn's hair with such tenderness Damian's heart swelled, genuine happiness seeping through his soul. Glenn leaned in beside her, his usually stoic expression melting into awe.

"She's got your nose, Chloe. And Damian's eyes. No doubt about that," he said.

Chloe laughed softly. "She's not a science project, Dad."

Damian watched them, his hand brushing against Chloe's as he settled beside her. She turned to him, slipping her fingers through his.

"Hey," she whispered. "We're in this together."

He shook his head slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. "I worry. About us. About her."

Chloe's voice softened. "Dami, she's safe. We're safe. Don't let your fear steal our moment."

His eyes met hers, sharp and searching, before dropping to their joined hands.

"You're right, Chloe. Today's our day."

***

The door burst open after Damian's in-laws left. Mina and Hope tumbled in, their energy cutting through the room like a fresh breeze.

"Where's my niece?" Hope asked, her eyes darting around until she spotted Chloe holding Dawn. "Oh my God, there she is."

"Meet Dawn Scott," Chloe answered with a laugh, patting her child, who let out a burp.

"She's so tiny!" Mina exclaimed, rushing to the bedside. "Like, I know newborns are small, but I didn't think they were this small."

"Smallest human I've ever seen," Hope added, folding her arms. "Whose nose did she get? That's the real question."

"Definitely not yours," Damian shot back with a smirk.

Hope rolled her eyes. "You wish, bro. Jealousy doesn't look good on you. She's probably going to be smarter than you. I'll take the credit."

Mina leaned over to touch the baby's cheek. "She's perfect," she whispered. "So amazing."

Damian's smile lingered as he watched Mina and Hope fawn over Dawn. For the first time in days, he felt relaxed.

Until the phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out, his face hardening as he read the text from an anonymous number:

> Still watching. Still waiting.

He placed the phone face down on the bench. The tension crept back like the cold, slithering shadow of evil anxiety.

He forced himself to forget the message when he turned to familiar faces at the door. Vera grabbed his arms, giving him a tight bear hug. "Congrats! I'm so proud of the man you've become over the years."

"All thanks to you, Mom." Damian smiled shyly.

Alistair patted him on the back. "Well done. Your uncle will call you later. He's stuck in transit between London and Paris."

"I appreciate that."

"A company announcement went out this morning, and Cavalli Media will call you tomorrow to schedule a feature in their lifestyle magazine."

Damian stared at his father, hesitation flickering in his eyes. "Dad, were you there when I was born?"

A hint of sorrow shadowed Alistair's face. "No, and it's one of my biggest regrets. Seeing you now—being here for your daughter—you've become the father I wished I had been for you. You're a better man than I was."

A lump formed in Damian's throat. He swallowed hard, emotions swirling inside. "Thanks," he answered.

Unable to say more, he turned to watch Chloe sing a sweet, soothing lullaby to their child.

Family.

For now, this was enough. It was what he needed—stability, love, and hope.

***

A song for the chapter:

https://youtu.be/kPa7bsKwL-c