Aria POV
The elevator ride down from Damien's penthouse felt like descending into hell. Noah was still crying softly against my shoulder, his small body trembling with fear he was too young to understand but old enough to feel.
"Mama, why was that man scary?" he whispered. "Why did he look at me like that?"
I held him tighter, my heart breaking. "Some people aren't very nice, baby. But Mama's going to keep you safe. I promise."
It was a promise I wasn't sure I could keep. Not anymore.
My phone buzzed constantly in my pocket—messages, calls, alerts. I ignored them all. Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting Noah somewhere secure.
The lobby security guard—one of Damien's, clearly briefed—stepped forward when we emerged. "Ms. Monroe, Mr. Blackwood instructed me to escort you to your vehicle. There are reporters gathering outside."
"Reporters?" The word came out strangled. "Already?"
"The story broke twenty minutes ago, ma'am. They're... persistent."
