Chapter 72 Chapter Seventy-two

Chapter 72 Chapter Seventy-two
Chapter 72

By the middle of the afternoon, Damian returned unexpectedly from the office, driven home by a nagging sense of worry about the press presence outside the gates.

Stepping into the main house, he followed the quiet sounds coming from the formal dining room. He stopped dead in his tracks at the doorway, his briefcase nearly slipping from his hand. He found Aria standing by the long mahogany table, carefully polishing the heavy family silverware with a soft cloth, her face lined with subtle exhaustion.

He crossed the room in an instant, his boots clicking sharply against the floorboards. "What on earth are you doing, Aria?"

Aria looked up, startled by his sudden appearance, but her expression quickly softened into a reassuring smile. "Oh, Damian, you're home early. I'm just helping out around the house a bit."

He frowned deeply, his eyes dropping to her feet and then to the large tray of silver. "You've been standing for hours, haven't you? Look at you, you're pale."

"I'm alright, truly," she insisted gently, placing a hand on his arm to soothe his rising anger. "It's just light work."

One of the maids standing near the sideboard shifted nervously from foot to foot, her eyes darting toward the hallway. Damian’s sharp eyes caught the movement instantly.

"What happened here today?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerously low register.

Nobody answered. The silence in the dining room became incredibly heavy.

His gaze settled squarely on the trembling maid. "Tell me exactly what is going on, right now."

The maid looked past Damian’s shoulder toward the doorway, where Evelyn had just entered, her expression entirely unbothered by her son's fierce demeanor.

"There is no need to interrogate the staff, Damian. It was my instruction," Evelyn announced calmly, stepping into the room.

Damian turned around slowly to face his mother, his posture rigid with fury. "Mother. What is the meaning of this?"

"I asked her to help with the household chores," Evelyn replied smoothly, unaffected by his anger. "It is entirely reasonable."

"She is pregnant," Damian said, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "The doctor explicitly ordered her to rest."

"So?" Evelyn countered, her voice unyielding. "Pregnancy is not a disability, Damian. Millions of women work until the very day they give birth."

"She shouldn't be on her feet all day performing manual labor for this house!" Damian yelled, his protective instincts entirely taking over. "We have dozens of staff for this exact reason!"

"I asked for light, manageable work," Evelyn said, maintaining her terrifyingly calm composure. "It is an exercise in character."

Aria, seeing the dangerous escalation between mother and son, immediately stepped between them, placing both of her hands flat against Damian's chest. "Damian, please, look at me. It's alright. Calm down."

Damian looked down at his wife, his breathing shallow, the muscles in his jaw tight. "Is it alright, Aria? You look exhausted."

She nodded quickly, offering him a reassuring look. "I really don't mind helping out. It gave me something to do today, honestly. Please don't fight."

Evelyn spoke up from behind them, her voice cutting through the air like a knife. "I refuse to raise a daughter-in-law who believes that carrying a Cross heir means everyone else must serve her every whim while she remains idle. She needs to know how to manage this estate."

Damian's jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. He gently stepped around Aria, keeping a protective arm around her waist. "No one ever said she wouldn't manage the estate, Mother. But her health, and the health of my child, comes before your archaic ideas of discipline."

"I am teaching her responsibility and resilience," Evelyn insisted, her eyes locking onto her son’s. "She will desperately need to survive in this family."

"She is already the most responsible and resilient person I know," Damian shot back, his voice ringing through the high-ceilinged room.

Aria reached down, desperately searching for Damian's hand, squeezing his fingers with all the strength she could muster.

"Damian, please," she whispered, her eyes pleading with him. "For the baby's sake, let it go. I don't want you two arguing because of me. It's not good for anyone."

Damian looked down at Aria’s pale face and noticed the slight tremor in her hands. The anger in his eyes slowly gave way to profound concern for her well-being. He turned his gaze back to his mother, his voice cold and filled with absolute finality.

"Light tasks only," Damian stipulated, setting a strict boundary. "Nothing that requires her to stand for more than an hour."

"That is all I ever asked of her," Evelyn replied smoothly, refusing to back down.

"And if the doctor says she needs absolute rest at any point?" Damian pressed, his eyes narrowing.

"Then she rests, without argument," Evelyn agreed, her tone final.

For the moment, neither mother nor son pushed the volatile issue any further, but the unspoken battle lines had been clearly drawn in the sand.

Late that evening, a peaceful quiet finally descended over the estate. Damian sat closely beside Aria on the private balcony outside their bedroom suite, a thick, soft blanket wrapped securely around both of their shoulders. The glittering city lights shimmered like a sea of diamonds in the far distance, far away from the stifling drama of the house.

"You should have called me at the office," Damian murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of residual anger and deep regret. "You shouldn't have let her push you around all morning."

Aria rested her head gently on his broad shoulder, closing her eyes as she breathed in the cool night air. "It wasn't worth upsetting you over, Damian. You have enough pressure on your shoulders with the firm and the press outside."

"It upset me anyway," he admitted softly, turning his head to press a gentle kiss against her hair. "Seeing you standing there, polishing silver... it made my blood boil."

She smiled faintly in the darkness, admiring his fierce loyalty. "Your mother isn't trying to actively hurt me, Damian. I really believe that."

"I know she isn't," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But her methods are infuriating."

"She just... she has very different ideas about what makes a person strong," Aria explained softly, trying to bridge the gap of understanding. "She comes from a different generation, and a very different world."

Damian sighed deeply, the sound heavy with years of built-up frustration. "She has always believed that true strength only comes from enduring hardship and overcoming adversity. She thinks comfort breeds weakness." He paused, turning his body slightly to look down into her eyes. "And what about you?"

Aria looked up at him, her dark eyes reflecting the starlight. "What do you believe?"

He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the line of her jaw. "I believe strength also means knowing when someone you love needs protecting, and having the courage to shield them from the storm."

Aria slipped her hand into his, intertwining their fingers tightly. "I'll be alright, Damian. I promise you. I am much stronger than your mother thinks I am."

"I know you are," he murmured.