Rebirth: Love me Again

The connection was immediate—undeniable. Same eyes. Same tilt of the chin. Something in his chest tightened painfully.

Estelle's gaze dropped to the floor, her hands curling into fists at her sides. She couldn't look at him. She didn't have to.

Damien's heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

"She is, isn't she?" he asked again, more firmly this time, his voice rough with emotion. His jaw clenched as a wave of anger, confusion, and betrayal surged through him.

"You had my child . . . and never told me?"

"Go and take Ely," Estelle instructed, her voice trembling but firm as she waved the two nannies over.

The little girl, confused but obedient, let herself be carried away without fuss. She didn't know what was happening—why her mother's voice sounded like that, or why the air had turned so heavy. The nannies hurried off, shielding her from the tension.

Meanwhile, uniformed guards instinctively moved between Estelle and Damien, their hands twitching toward their sidearms—not out of threat, but instinct, sensing the emotional storm brewing.

"You don't get to talk to me like that," Estelle snapped, eyes glinting. "Not after you disappeared without a single word, Damien. You ghosted me—and the next time I saw you, it was you and Stacey gotten back together."

Damien's throat clenched. The fire that had been burning in him just seconds ago flickered out, replaced by something colder. Emptier.

"That was . . . wait, when did you found out? But that's not important. Stacey and I are no longer––"

"No," Estelle cut him off, voice rising. "I don't care anymore. You vanished and left me to put the pieces together. You don't get to rewrite that now."

"Estelle . . ." he breathed her name like it hurt.

But she shook her head violently. "No. You don't get to say my name either. As far as I'm concerned, we're done. You chose your life. Now stay out of mine—and stay away from my child."

"She's my child too," Damien growled, his voice rising in desperation. His hands clenched into fists by his side. "You don't get to erase me from her life."

Estelle's eyes flared. "The moment you left without a word, you made that choice. You gave up that right the second you walked away and played house with Stacey. My daughter doesn't need someone who's half in and half out. She needs stability. And you—" her voice cracked just slightly, "—you're chaos."

Before he could reply, she turned her back, the guards closing ranks around her as she disappeared with her daughter.

Damien stood frozen in place, his world imploding in silence.

His breath caught in his chest. The anger returned, but now it was turned inward. Shame. Frustration. Regret. The kind that seeps into your bones and stays there.

For a long time, he didn't move.

He'd lost her. And more than that, he'd lost her—his daughter.

The thought hit him like a freight train. A child. His child. Gone.

All the plans he and his brothers had joked about—the ridiculous sabotage plans for Cole and Eve's wedding—faded into the background. They felt petty now. Meaningless.

What mattered had just walked away from him . . . and he had no one to blame but himself.

Damien stood rooted to the spot, as if the earth itself refused to let him move—punishing him for the choices he didn't make, for the words he never said.

He regretted everything.

He regretted not going to Estelle the moment he felt that pang in his chest—that sense that something had been left unfinished between them.

If he had, he would've been there when she found out she was pregnant.

He would've seen her hands tremble with the test kit, would've heard the quiver in her breath when she realized she wasn't alone anymore. He would've held her through the fear, through the cravings, through the late nights and mood swings.

He could have been there when their child kicked for the first time. When she cried after giving birth. When Ely opened her eyes for the first time and looked up at the world with the same shape of eyes he saw in the mirror every morning.

But instead—he missed it all.

Missed a whole life.

A family that could have been his.

His fists clenched, knuckles pale.

No.

He wasn't going to let it end like this.

Damien had lost battles before—but never like this. Not something so vital, so deeply personal that it ripped open something in his chest he didn't know existed.

"I made a mistake," he whispered, staring at the path Estelle had vanished into.

But unlike before, he wasn't going to make another by standing still.

He straightened, jaw tightening. The helplessness in his gut hadn't disappeared—but it had found something stronger beneath it. A need to fight.

He was going to fix this.

He was going to win Estelle back—if not for him, then for their daughter. For the right to be called father. To prove he wasn't just a ghost from Estelle's past but someone who could stand beside her now, and love her.

If he had to tear down the walls between them brick by brick, he would.

If he had to face her fury a hundred more times, so be it.

But Damien wasn't walking away again.

He had already missed years.

He wasn't about to miss a lifetime.

What was supposed to be a short business trip to New York turned into an indefinite stay.

Damien couldn't bring himself to leave. Not when Estelle was here. Not when his daughter—his daughter—was just a few streets away, living a life he had never been part of.

The city that once felt like concrete and steel now pulsed with a new meaning, one tied to the two people who now consumed his every waking thought.

He mobilized everything in his power. Contacts. Resources. Quiet favors.

Discreet inquiries that wouldn't alarm Estelle.

He wasn't stalking—he was searching. Piecing together a life he should have known firsthand.