Chapter 11 – The Heir and the Hammer
Chapter 11 – The Heir and the Hammer
The flames crackled in the fireplace as Caleb sat cross-legged on the rug, building a dinosaur fortress out of wooden blocks. Damon watched his son quietly, his arms folded, his back leaning against the frame of the study’s open doorway. He hadn’t said much since the articles broke. There were too many wheels spinning in his head—and every one of them had Aurora and Caleb strapped to them.
“You’re doing it again,” Aurora said, stepping beside him.
He blinked. “Doing what?”
“That thing where your eyes glaze over and you think of twenty different ways to dismantle the world for us.”
He smirked, a rare flicker of humor. “I’m narrowing it down to fifteen.”
She bumped her shoulder into his. “Let me help.”
He turned to face her. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“I already am,” she replied gently. “Every second we hide, they win. So we stop hiding.”
“You mean go public?”
“I mean we go on the record. Caleb isn’t some dirty secret. He’s our son. He’s a person. If they want to play chess with his future, we flip the board.”
Damon hesitated.
Then: “I have a contact at The Republic Tribune. Independent, non-corporate, clean. I trust her.”
Aurora nodded. “Then let’s talk to her.”
\---
Back in the city, a sleek gray Bentley pulled up outside a towering glass building. Gregory Thorne stepped out, buttoning his coat. His face, etched by decades of power and wealth, was unreadable.
Inside, in a room flooded with screens and strategy boards, his executive assistant waited.
“They’ve gone to The Republic Tribune,” she said without preamble. “We confirmed contact between Damon Thorne and Lucinda Graves.”
Gregory tapped his fingers together slowly. “Lucinda Graves… Pulitzer Prize winner. Integrity above ambition. The sort who believes truth is sacred.”
“She’ll run the story.”
He smiled darkly. “Then we must feed her a story she can’t ignore.”
\---
The safehouse was quiet again. Too quiet.
Aurora paced the living room as Damon stood at the window, eyes on the tree line.
Simone entered. “We’ve picked up drone activity circling the property. Nothing government-grade. Likely private surveillance.”
Damon’s hands curled into fists. “They’re watching, waiting.”
“They’re not going to wait much longer,” Simone said. “They’ll either discredit you or provoke you.”
“They won’t need to,” Aurora said, her voice low. “Because we’re going to beat them to the punch.”
\---
The following morning, The Republic Tribune released a digital exclusive:
“The Hidden Thorne: Aurora James Breaks Silence on Billionaire Heir”
The article was raw. Honest. Painful.
Aurora had given them everything—how she and Damon met, how he never knew about Caleb, how the Thorne family had tried to bury the truth.
Damon’s interview followed suit. There were no fancy PR words, no manufactured apologies. Just the truth.
“He is my son. And I will burn down every last legacy before I let anyone use him to build their empire.”
The article went viral within hours. Public opinion erupted.
Some headlines praised the courage. Others spun controversy. But the tide was turning. The Thorne name, once synonymous with pristine power, was starting to corrode under the weight of its lies.
\---
At the Thorne estate, Gregory’s face twisted as he slammed a crystal tumbler against the wall.
“They’ve gone nuclear!” he barked.
His board members sat still. Pale. Uneasy.
“They exposed us,” Gregory snarled. “And now the board wants a vote of no confidence? After everything I built?”
“The SEC is launching an inquiry,” someone said meekly. “The Zurich facilities…”
Gregory’s gaze snapped to them. “What about Zurich?”
“There’s a whistleblower. Someone Damon’s team flipped. They’re naming names.”
Gregory stood silent for a long beat. Then he turned to his assistant.
“Activate Protocol Elysium.”
“Sir… that’s scorched earth.”
“Then we’ll scorch it.”
\---
Aurora didn’t sleep that night. Not because she was afraid—but because she was finally ready.
She sat on the porch with Damon, their shoulders touching.
“You know they’ll come for us harder now,” he murmured.
“I know,” she said. “But for once, they won’t find us crawling.”
He looked at her, the flicker of admiration softening his expression. “You amaze me.”
She smiled faintly. “Don’t say that. I still can’t cook rice without burning it.”
He reached out, brushing her cheek. “Still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
She leaned into his hand. “Even when I’m ready for war?”
“Especially then.”
And just as their lips met, Caleb’s voice called from inside.
“Mom? Dad? The lights are blinking again!”
They broke apart, hearts thudding.
Simone appeared from the hallway. “We’ve got movement. Three black SUVs. Coming up the access road. No tags.”
Damon was on his feet. “Get Caleb. Get downstairs. I’ll stall them.”
“No,” Aurora said. “We all stall them.”
\---
The SUVs stopped just short of the tree line.
Men in tactical gear emerged. Unmarked. No insignias. But too polished to be amateurs.
Damon stepped outside first, flanked by Simone and Aurora. Behind them, Caleb waited inside with one of Simone’s team.
One of the men stepped forward, pulling back his hood.
It was Lance Marrow, Gregory’s former legal fixer. A man whose reputation made devils flinch.
“Damon,” he said, smiling. “Lovely day for surrender.”
“Not today,” Damon replied coldly.
“Then you leave us no choice.” He raised a hand.
Before he could signal his men, Simone stepped forward with a tablet in hand.
“You might want to reconsider. This livestream just hit ninety thousand viewers. And your face is front and center.”
Lance froze.
Simone tapped the tablet. “I’ve got four angles, high-definition. And guess what? We’re not trespassing. You are. No warrants. No ID. Just armed men at a civilian residence.”
“You won’t make it to trial,” Lance growled.
“Maybe not,” Aurora said. “But the world will know who pulled the trigger.”
Lance stared at her. “You think you’ve won something?”
“No,” Damon said. “We’re just getting started.”
Lance turned slowly, signaled to his men.
Retreat.
For now.
\---
That night, after the storm passed, Aurora sat beside Caleb, stroking his hair as he slept.
Damon stood in the doorway.
“I’ve secured us a private jet. We leave at dawn. Zurich.”
“You’re going public with everything?”
He nodded. “The whistleblower’s ready. I’m going to testify. Before the authorities. Before the press. No more secrets.”
Aurora rose and crossed to him. “You’ll be risking everything.”
“I already have,” he said. “But it’s not about the company anymore. It’s about ending what my father started.”
She took his hand. “And I’ll be there.”
He exhaled, long and slow. “There’s one more thing.”
She tilted her head.
“I want to marry you.”
Aurora froze. “Damon—”
“Not now. Not tomorrow. But someday. When we’ve made it through the fire. When I can give you more than apologies.”
She smiled, tears catching in her lashes. “You already have.”
\---