Chapter 142

Chapter 142

Damian’s POV

The guilt did not come crashing down on Damian Blackwood in a single, dramatic moment, it crept in slowly, quietly, persistently. Like water seeping through cracks he hadn’t known existed.

Damian stood at the wide window of the study long after the staff had retreated for the night, his reflection faint in the glass. The city lights beyond the gates glittered indifferently, life moving forward as though nothing monumental had shifted.

But everything had shifted, everything had changed and he was in the middle of it all. The court sitting replayed itself in fragments in his mind—the way Evelyn had sat, shoulders stiff but chin lifted. The way she had looked at him, when she thought he wasn't looking, and the relief in her posture when that recording was played.

That hurt more than he cared to admit.
He wrapped his fingers around the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening. He had faced hostile boardrooms, predatory investors, ruthless competitors who would have gladly watched him fall. None of them had unsettled him the way Evelyn’s quiet dignity did.

She had not pleaded, she had not cried, she had not defended herself loudly, she had simply existed in that courtroom as though she had already survived the worst of it.

And that terrified him, because it meant the worst of it had been him.

Damian closed his eyes.
For the first time since this nightmare began, he allowed himself to remember—not the DNA results, not the reports, not the carefully curated facts he had clung to like armor—but the woman behind them.

Evelyn, standing in the nursery in the early hours of the morning, humming softly to Jayden. Evelyn, sitting across from him at breakfast, tentative smiles that reached her eyes. Evelyn, who had trusted him enough to sign a contract that had stripped her life down to clauses and chaos.

Evelyn, who had never once asked for more than what was written. His chest tightened, he had told himself he was being rational, responsible, decisive. He had told himself that removing her from the mansion was necessary, that distance would bring clarity.

Instead, it had brought regret.
Not immediate regret—that would have been too easy. This was slower, heavier. It settled in his bones and refused to leave.
He had accused her without proof, he had questioned her integrity without listening, he had uprooted her life with a single sentence.

The words echoed now, louder. Damian turned away from the window and moved toward the leather chair by the desk, sitting heavily. He rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together as though that might steady him.

When had he decided she was guilty?
Not when the results came in.
No.
It had been earlier than that.
It had been the moment doubt was planted—and he knew, with an uncomfortable clarity, whose voice that doubt had carried. It was the maids' voices, and they were probably instructed by Vanessa, because that woman is capable of so many things.

And he had listened, because listening to their gossip had been easier than confronting his own fear.

So he had turned that fear outward, toward Evelyn.

His jaw clenched as the memory of the confrontation replayed—the look on Vanessa’s face when she had realized she had gone too far, the way the truth had spilled out of her in jagged fragments.

“I even went as far as sleeping with that scum… just to get pregnant.” The words still rang in his ears.

Damian leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
How close he had come to destroying the wrong life entirely.
Evelyn had lost her home—the mansion was supposed to be a forever home for her, her sense of security, her trust. And Jayden—

His throat tightened at the thought of the child. Jayden, whose tiny fingers had once curled around Damian’s without hesitation. Jayden, whose existence Damian had reduced to percentages on a piece of paper.

He had failed him too.

Damian exhaled slowly, forcing himself to sit with the discomfort instead of burying it. This was not a feeling he could outrun with money or legal strategy. No contract clause could absolve him of what he had done.

He had wronged her, that truth stood now, unmovable.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
“Sir?” one of the senior staff called quietly from the doorway.

Damian didn’t turn. “What is it?”

“There’s an update from your legal team,” the man said. “They’ve compiled the supplemental filings for the next sitting.”

Damian nodded once. “Leave it on the desk.”

The door closed again, returning the room to its oppressive stillness.
He didn’t look at the files immediately.
Instead, his gaze drifted to the far corner of the room where, for a brief time, Evelyn had sat, pregnant, watching him work, or reading one of her favorite books from the library to him.

He had sent her away, and he had been wrong. Avoidance had not brought him peace, it had brought emptiness.

Damian stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room. Each step felt like a reckoning. He stopped near the desk again, staring down at the neatly arranged documents.

This case had started as an attempt to protect his name. It had become something else entirely, now, it was about accountability, not just legally—but morally.
He knew the court would decide facts, evidence and liability. But some things would never be settled by a ruling.
No verdict would erase the look on Evelyn’s face when she had realized he believed the worst of her. No judgment would give back the sense of safety he had stripped away.

And that was the weight he would carry, regardless of outcome. Damian reached for his phone, hesitating only briefly before unlocking it, his thumb hovered over a contact he had not dared to press in weeks—Evelyn Carter.

But he couldn't dial the number.

Some apologies required more than words, some remorse needed action before it deserved an audience.

He placed the phone back down carefully.
At the next sitting, the court would reconvene, more truths would surface, the consequences of his choices would continue unfolding.

But tonight, tonight, Damian Blackwood sat alone with the undeniable truth that power had not made him infallible.
It had only made his mistakes larger, and somewhere beyond the walls of his mansion, a woman he had underestimated was proving stronger than he had ever given her cr
edit for. That realization hurt.
But for the first time in weeks, it also felt honest.