Elias sat alone in his office.
The boardroom was quiet now.
The scent of Aria's perfume still lingered in the air.
He hadn't expected to see her again—certainly not like that, standing across the table with her chin raised and her voice calm. She had been poised. Polished. Utterly unreadable.
He leaned back in his chair, unbuttoning his collar. The room felt too tight, too cold despite the climate control. His gaze dropped to the file she'd handed him earlier. Calyx Tech's numbers were clean. Impressive, even. But that wasn't what bothered him.
It was her signature.
Aria Collins.
No hyphen. No Blackwood.
He hadn't expected it to sting, but it did.
Three years ago, she'd walked out without a word. Tore their marriage contract in two like it had never mattered. And he'd let her go—coldly, deliberately. He told himself it was what she wanted. What they both needed. Their marriage had been a transaction, an agreement between two people who understood the world too well to believe in illusions.
Or so he thought.
Until the night she left—with eyes that looked more like heartbreak than freedom.
A knock interrupted the silence.
He didn't look up. "What is it?"
"Mr. Blackwood," his assistant said, stepping inside with a tablet. "The final financials from Calyx Tech, and… there's something else."
He took the tablet, skimming it with practiced efficiency—until something caught his eye.
A name.
E. Collins.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Who is this?"
"Aria's son," the assistant replied. "He's listed as her dependent in her employee file."
His heart stilled.
"Her… what?"
"Dependent, sir. Four years old."
A sharp chill crawled down his spine. He stared at the name on the screen, numb.
E. Collins.
Initial only. But the timing—four years old.
He did the math without meaning to.
Three years since she left.
A month before that, she had looked pale. Tired. Quiet in ways that felt unfamiliar.
"Was there a father listed?" he asked, voice low.
"No, sir. Just the mother's name."
The assistant hesitated. "Should I… dig deeper?"
Elias didn't answer immediately. He stood up slowly, walking toward the window. The city glittered below like broken glass.
"No," he said finally. "Not yet."
"Yes, sir." The door closed softly behind her.
He stared down at the screen in his hand.
E. Collins.
It could be a coincidence.
It could be—
But no. Aria never did anything by accident. She was calculated. Intentional. And she'd walked into his boardroom today with fire in her eyes and a storm behind her calm. As if she was bracing for something.
A conversation?
A confrontation?
Did she have a child?
His child?
His phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
The documents are signed. Calyx Tech will be absorbed by next quarter. Thank you for your time today.
No name.
But he knew who it was.
He stared at the message, thumb hovering over the screen. He wanted to ask. Needed to ask.
But how do you ask someone if the life they lived without you included the child you never knew you had?
His fingers trembled slightly as he typed.
Aria. We need to talk.
He didn't send it.
Not yet.
Instead, he scrolled back to the name. E. Collins.
Not Blackwood.
But that didn't mean anything.
Not yet.
He dropped into his chair again, rubbing his temples.
The door creaked open. This time, it was Jordan, his head of legal.
"Still here?" Jordan asked, raising a brow. "Thought you'd be halfway to the penthouse by now."
Elias didn't respond.
Jordan stepped inside, gaze falling on the tablet. "You good?"
"Define good."
Jordan chuckled dryly. "Didn't realize the Calyx merger was personal."
Elias finally looked up. "It wasn't. Not until she walked in."
"Aria?"
He nodded.
Jordan leaned against the table. "She's still stunning. But distant. Like she's got layers now."
"She always did," Elias muttered. "I just didn't see them."
Jordan narrowed his eyes. "Something happened?"
"She has a son."
Jordan blinked. "A son?"
Elias nodded slowly. "Four years old."
Jordan let out a low whistle. "Yours?"
"I don't know."
Jordan paced a little. "Are you going to ask her?"
"I was about to. Then I didn't."
Jordan scoffed. "Why not? Man, you don't pause when it comes to billion-dollar deals, but this?"
"It's not the same."
"It's exactly the same. You gather facts. You ask questions. You uncover the truth."
"It's not a business transaction, Jordan," Elias snapped. "It's a child."
"Exactly. Which makes it even more important that you ask."
Elias ran a hand down his face. "What if she lies?"
"Then you dig deeper. But you start with the assumption that she might tell the truth."
"I gave her everything," Elias muttered.
"You gave her a contract. Not connection."
That hit harder than Elias expected.
Jordan softened his tone. "Look, if he's yours, you deserve to know. And if he's not, at least you'll stop living in this limbo. But if you wait too long, she might think you don't care."
Elias looked down at his phone again. "She left without saying goodbye. Didn't that say enough?"
Jordan sighed. "Maybe it did. But people change. And if there's even a one percent chance that boy is yours, you owe it to yourself—to him—to find out."
Elias stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then finally, he pressed send.
Aria. We need to talk.
Meanwhile…
Across the city, Aria stood at the foot of Eli's bed, watching him sleep. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his tiny fingers curled around a stuffed blue elephant he refused to sleep without.
He looked peaceful.
Untouched by the weight of the world.
She reached out and brushed a curl from his forehead. "You're going to change everything," she whispered.
The words lingered in the dark.
Nora leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. "You know he's going to figure it out."
"I know."
"He might already have."
Aria sat on the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving Eli. "I saw it in his eyes. He's suspicious."
"So… what are you going to do?"
"I don't know."
Nora stepped inside. "You can't keep running. Eli's getting older. He'll start asking more questions."
"He already does," Aria admitted. "Today he asked if his daddy was invisible."
Nora winced. "Ouch. What did you say?"
"I told him his daddy was far away. That he used to be very brave and very kind."
Nora tilted her head. "That's not untrue."
"But it's not the truth either."
"No. But maybe the truth doesn't have to hurt if it's told with love."
Aria wiped her eyes. "I don't know if Elias can hear anything with love anymore."
"You'd be surprised," Nora said gently. "Men like him, they carry silence like armor. But inside? They bleed too."
A buzz from the nightstand made Aria tense. She leaned over and picked up her phone.
A message from an unknown number.
Aria. We need to talk.
She stared at it, her heart skipping.
Nora leaned over. "Is it him?"
"Yes."
Nora touched her arm. "Then maybe it's time."
Aria stood slowly. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Time for what?"
"To stop hiding."
She looked down at her sleeping son. His breath was steady. His trust in her—absolute.
"I just… don't want him to be used as leverage. Or caught in the middle."
"Then don't let him be. But tell the truth, Aria. Give them both a chance."
Her hands tightened around the phone.
And for the first time in years, Aria typed back.
Tomorrow. Meet me at the conservatory. Noon.
She hit send.
Nora exhaled beside her. "Are you okay?"
"No," Aria said honestly. "But I think I'm finally ready to be."