Six weeks later.

"Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetop," Chloe sang softly, her voice a soothing melody. 

She sat on their bed by the cradle, swaying it with one hand as her daughter's tiny fingers flexed and stilled again. The first rays of sunlight streaming through the window kissed Dawn's soft features.

"Keep going." Damian's voice came from the doorway, low and gravelly.

Chloe froze mid-verse, her head tilting toward the sound. Diva's nails clicked softly against the floor as she rose from her spot by the cradle and approached him, wagging her tail. Damian scratched behind her ears absently, his eyes locked on Chloe.

"When the wind blows, the cradle will rock," he hummed.

"I didn't hear you come in," she said without turning around.

"I'm good at staying quiet," he replied, stepping inside. His tie was gone, the buttons of his shirt undone to his navel, revealing the edge of the dragon tattoo winding along his left ribs and abdomen.

Chloe glanced at him over her shoulder, her hair twisted into a loose knot, leaving her neck bare. She wore his old shirt, the buttons done up unevenly, one side slipping off her shoulder. The shadows under her eyes told him she hadn't slept much. A constellation of freckles spread across her nose and cheeks. She didn't need makeup—Damian had always told her she was beautiful without it.

God, she's fucking sexy.

She laughed. "And you are...?"

Damian's lips curved into a lazy, knowing grin, the kind that made her knees weak. "Don't play games, babe. You missed me."

"You were supposed to call."

"You always start with the guilt trips."

She crossed her arms, leaning against the cradle. "You were gone for a week, Damian. I barely heard from you. You're right. I missed you like mad."

He stopped inches away. "I'm sorry. It's been hectic from dusk to dawn. I should've called when I arrived. Forgive me?"

"You're forgiven. I missed your scent," Chloe whispered, inhaling him—a mix of expensive cologne and his fresh, natural aroma. "How were the rebranding launch events in New York and London?"

"Better than expected. SQ Enterprise—it's sleek, modern, and represents unity. Stakeholders, clients, and the media gave it the thumbs up."

"You are the future," Chloe asserted. 

"We are the future." Damian brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.

He leaned in, breathing warmly against her ear. "Jason and his sons want in on our real estate business along Lester Harbor's coast. They're offering shares in their casino empire."

Chloe stiffened.

Jason Zhou, her biological father, had met Dawn over FaceTime a few weeks ago, but Chloe's two half-brothers remained a mystery. "Let me guess," she said, trying to mask her unease. "They want to expand and eventually have an alliance or joint venture with SQ Enterprise."

"They say it's about family." Damian's voice turned sharper, colder. His hand slid to her waist, grounding her. "But I know better. They're looking for leverage."

"They're curious," she mused. "Hmm. Interesting."

"Curious?" Damian's harsh laugh sounded more like a bark. There was no humor in it. His hand shifted to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. "They're opportunists. I don't let them anywhere near what's mine."

Chloe's breath caught, but she held his gaze. "But you'll take what's theirs?"

"I take what I want. Always." Damian gave a devilish smile, his thumb brushing her jaw.

"This is my family, Damian. I don't need your protection," she refuted, grasping his thumb and locking it in her fingers.

"Don't you? You barely know them. Don't be naive." His words were silk and steel, his grip on her waist possessive. "You're my wife, my lover, and the mother of my child. I care for you."

Chloe's fingers fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. His mouth claimed hers then, fierce and consuming, the restraint in his touch amplifying the tension between them. When he pulled back, she whispered, "You're right. And I missed you."

"Say it properly," he commanded.

"I missed you, Sir."

"Good girl." Damian rolled up his sleeves, eyeing the sleeping baby. "Have you been to the ob-gyn? Are you ready yet?"

Her lips twitched. "My stitches are out. I'm healing well, but I need another week or two before we—"

"Lie down," Damian growled. "No penetration. I want to feel you. All of you. I won't hurt you. Trust me?"

A flush crept up her neck, but her smile turned coy. "Yes, Sir."

***

Later, as Damian dressed, he caught the delicate brush of Chloe's fingers over his chest. Her touch lingered on the fresh ink just over his heart:

春华

Her brow furrowed, her thumb tracing the graceful strokes of the calligraphy surrounded by blooming cherry blossoms.

"What does it mean?" she asked, her voice full of wonder.

Damian grinned. "It's your name, Chun Hua. Spring flower."

Her eyes widened, and her fingers stilled. She didn't say anything for a moment, but the way her lips parted told him everything. She didn't need to speak for him to know how much it meant.

His attention shifted to her touch, now sliding over his shoulder, where the second tattoo rested—a vibrant sunrise sprawled across his skin. The colors radiated outward—golden at the center, melting into soft pinks and lavender hues near the edges. Nestled within the rays was a tiny handprint: Dawn's.

"That one's for our daughter," he explained. "Every morning begins with her. She's our light."

Chloe's fingers traced the edges of the ink, her soft breaths brushing against his skin. "You're full of surprises, Damian."

"For you and her?" He tilted his head, watching her reaction with a rare flicker of vulnerability. "There's nothing I wouldn't do."

She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his hand as he reached for his phone on the bedside table. The buzzing broke the moment. Damian glanced at the screen, muttering, "Shit. I'm going to be late."

"For Mina's volleyball practice?" Chloe asked, her hand drifting down to brush against his chest.

He nodded, slipping his watch on and standing. "She's been waiting for this all week."

***

"C'mon, Mina! Move your feet!" Damian's voice echoed through the volleyball court on a Saturday morning. They decided to continue practicing after the team finished their game.

Mina scowled, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm. "I am moving my feet!" she shot back, hustling toward the volleyball Damian had just spiked her way.

"Not fast enough," he replied, smirking as he lobbed another ball over the net. "If this were a real match, that'd be a point for the other team."

Mina dove, brushing the ball as it hit the ground with a dull slap. She groaned. "This isn't a real match, Dami. It's practice. I'm allowed to suck."

"No, you're not," he said, walking around the net to offer her a hand. "We don't do 'suck' in this family."

She rolled her eyes but let him pull her up. "Okay, Coach Hard-Ass. One more round, then I'm calling it."

Damian barked out a laugh. "Hard-Ass? That's what you're going with?"

Mina shrugged, brushing dirt off her knees. "It fits. Don't act like you're not proud of it."

He chuckled, tossing the ball in his hands. "Let's see if you've earned the right to call me names. One more round—prove you've been listening."

This time, Mina was faster. She tracked the ball like a hawk, her arms coming together in a clean bump. The ball sailed back over the net, and Damian nodded approvingly. "There it is."

"Finally," Mina muttered, grinning as she wiped the sweat from her brow. "Okay, I'm done. Feed me now."

Fifteen minutes later, they sat across from each other in their favorite corner booth at a local diner down the street from the volleyball court. Halfway through her second burger, Mina swiped a fry from the plate between them.

"You've earned it," Damian said, leaning back as he watched her eat like it was her last meal. "You're improving. You're tracking the ball better."

"Yeah, yeah, butter me up all you want," she said, muffled by a mouthful of fries. "But we both know this is just an excuse for you to remind me you were the better athlete back in the day."

Damian smirked, folding his arms across his chest. "Well, I was."

"Past tense, old man," she shot back, grinning as she reached for her milkshake.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You've got a lot of nerve, kid."

They fell into a comfortable silence, the low drone of conversations and clinking dishes filling the gaps. Damian toyed with the edge of his napkin, his green eyes softening as he watched her.

"Mina," he said, his voice quieter now.

She looked up, mid-bite, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you."

She blinked, her burger frozen halfway to her mouth. "Uh... thanks?"

"No, I mean it," Damian pressed, leaning forward, his forearms resting on the table. "What you did—speaking to the federal police about what happened to you and others—it mattered. It made a difference. You gave survivors the courage to find their voices, too."

Mina set her burger down, her expression growing more serious. Her eyes darted to the table as if the weight of his words was too much to hold. Then, she looked back at him.

"I couldn't have done it without you and Chloe," she admitted, her voice soft. "And your dad. And Nick. Even Elizabeth." She paused, her lips curving into a faint smile. "You all made me feel like I belonged. Like I wasn't just some broken kid."

"What did Nick say?" Damian asked, leaning back in his seat.

Mina's smile widened slightly. "He told me to stop thinking of myself as a victim and start thinking of myself as a survivor. Being broken doesn't mean you're done—it means you get to start over."

Damian nodded, a flicker of pride crossing his features. "And Elizabeth?"

"She told me it's okay to let people in. That it's not weakness—it's strength. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."

"She's a smart woman," Damian said, rubbing his chin in thought.

Mina grinned. "Speaking of Elizabeth, I love living with your grandparents. John's teaching me woodwork—it's weirdly fun. Helps me turn my brain off for a while."

"And my grandmother?" he asked.

"She's amazing," Mina replied without hesitation. "She's like the grandma I always wanted but never thought I'd have."

"What about school?" His tone softened as he leaned forward again.

"I'm catching up fast," she answered, sitting straighter. "But I miss Hope when she's away. I wish your dad would let her transfer schools, but you know him."

"Stubborn doesn't even begin to cover it," he muttered, shaking his head.

Mina laughed. "Hope and I are already planning to go to college together. She's a year ahead, but I'll catch up."

"What's the plan for college?" he asked.

"I want to be a psychologist," she said. "To help people like me. You and Chloe showed me how important it is to get help, and I want to do that for someone else. I want to pay it forward."

Damian studied her for a moment, his eyes searching her face. Then, he nodded. "You'll be great at it."

Mina blushed as she smiled. "Thanks, Dami."

***

The late afternoon sun painted the ranch in shades of amber and gold as Damian pulled up in front of his grandparents' house. Mina hopped out of the car, waving over her shoulder before jogging toward the porch where John and Elizabeth stood waiting. Damian nodded at them, then backed out, heading home.

Unease crept when he slowed his Tesla into the driveway toward the two-story private carpark for his luxury cars and motorcycles—his toys, Chloe had said. The tall hedges lining the property swayed in the breeze, casting shadows stretching toward the house like grasping hands.

Damian stopped the car and got out when he saw Chloe strolling around the front garden, pushing Dawn's pram with Diva by her side. She paused when she noticed him, a smile blooming across her face.

"You're back," she called, her voice cutting through the garden's stillness.

"Finished practice and grabbed lunch with Mina," Damian said, closing the distance between them. His eyes shifted to the pram, where Dawn slept, her little face peeking from the pink blanket. Her brown hair curled slightly at the temples, and her tiny chin—a miniature of Chloe's—tipped up in peaceful defiance.

"How was the walk?" he asked, watching his daughter move.

"Peaceful," Chloe replied, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Diva scared off a rabbit, though. She thinks she's protecting the whole estate."

Damian crouched to rub the Doberman's ears. "Good girl," he murmured, the dog leaning into his touch while keeping her sharp eyes on Chloe.

"She's been extra alert during the whole walk," Chloe continued, her tone light, but Damian caught the undercurrent of tension. "I can't tell if she's being dramatic or if there's something out there."

"She's doing her job," Damian said, straightening and slipping his hands into his pockets. His gaze flicked toward the house, and that's when he saw her.

Sara, the housekeeper, stood at the kitchen window, her face half-shadowed by the curtains. For a moment, their eyes met, and Damian caught a flicker of something—an expression that twisted and disappeared too quickly to name. Coldness? Resentment? He couldn't pin it down.

"Damian?" Chloe's voice tugged his attention back.

"Yeah?" he said, turning back to her.

Her brows knitted slightly. "Everything okay?"

He hesitated, glancing toward the window again, but Sara was gone. The curtain shifted as though she'd stepped back. Damian forced a nod. "Yeah. Everything's fine."

But it wasn't.

Chloe tilted her head, studying him for a moment before she reached for his arm, her fingers brushing against his wrist. "You sure?"

"Positive," he replied. His hand moved to the small of her back, guiding her toward the house.

As they walked, he felt the walls, the locks, the guards, and the cameras Vivianne had organized were inadequate. She did her job right, running through each checkpoint with him. It wasn't her. She was loyal to the core.

Something wasn't right. 

Damian's phone vibrated in his pocket, sending a slight jolt up his spine. He pulled it out and answered the call.

"Hahn, what's up?" he asked.

"Mister Scott," her voice came through, tight and frayed. "I've got him. The informant. He knows Marino's whereabouts."

Damian's hand curled into a fist, fire burning in his chest. "Where are you?"

"My place," she said, her words clipped, rushed. "I texted you the address. But hurry—he's not in good shape, and neither am I."

The line went dead before he could reply.

He stared at the phone for a second longer, then slipped it back into his pocket. Chloe's voice called faintly from inside the house, but his focus had already shifted.

"I'll be back," he muttered under his breath, striding toward his car.

***

A/N: What will happen next? Will Damian get Mike in the end? Or is the guy as slippery as Damian's mother was? Do you believe karma will get Mike back? What about Chloe and the baby? Will something terrible happen to them? Will Damian suffer? Do you trust the Zhou family (Chloe's biological family)?

Meet Diva (source: Pinterest): 

Fun fact: the author grew up with dogs, from loyal Dobermans and energetic German Shepherds to small rescue dogs similar to Jack Russells. These little dogs have big 'diva' personalities! :)  

I'm following a NYT bestseller author's advice to extend the story to 60k words and flesh out the relationship development, part of my studies with a writing school—not to sell readers short. So... it's now about 55,000k words, and I'll do another two or three chapters to round it off to 60k words.