Chapter 35 The One Thing Left to Fix
Damian's POV
The air outside felt different that night. Cold, biting, but strangely clean - like the world was giving me one last chance to breathe before it decided what to do with me.
I drove aimlessly for hours. No destination. Just headlights slicing through the dark while my thoughts dragged me through every mistake I'd made. Isla's confession kept replaying in my head, every word carving itself deeper.
Richard.
I could still hear her saying it, her voice shaking, her eyes full of regret that felt too convenient, too late.
And now, the paternity test - a lie. A setup. A chain meant to keep me leashed to her.
But that chain had snapped.
And all I could think of was Elena.
Her face when I told her the baby was mine.
Her voice, trembling with hurt and fury.
That slap - not just on my skin, but somewhere deeper.
She'd closed the door, but the sound of it hadn't left my head since.
I pulled over eventually, somewhere outside the city. The sky was still heavy with clouds, the roads empty. I killed the engine and sat there, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles went white.
I wanted to call her. God, I wanted to call her.
But after everything, what was I even supposed to say? "Hey, turns out the baby isn't mine after all"?
That wasn't redemption - that was desperation.
Still, I reached for my phone.
Her name sat at the top of my messages - unread after unread, a wall I couldn't get past. I typed anyway.
Damian: I know you don't want to hear from me. But please, this time, it's not about excuses. It's about the truth.
I didn't hit send right away. I stared at the words until they blurred. Then I deleted them.
Truth didn't mean anything to her anymore. Not from me.
I leaned back in my seat, eyes burning. For years, I'd built my life on control - on being the man who never let emotions rule him. But tonight, that version of me was gone.
All that was left was someone who'd lost everything that mattered.
By morning, exhaustion won. I drove home, half-dead from the night before. Isla's words still echoed in my head, but so did Elena's silence.
When I walked into my apartment, the place felt haunted - not by ghosts, but by absence.
The couch where Elena used to fall asleep watching bad movies.
The mug she left once, still sitting by the sink.
Even the faint scent of her perfume that refused to fade.
I ran a hand through my hair and sat down heavily.
I wasn't sure how long I sat there before my phone buzzed. I didn't even look at the screen - assumed it was Isla again - until I saw the name.
Unknown Number.
Curiosity made me answer.
"Damian Crpss?" a voice said. Male. Cautious.
"Yeah?"
"This is Dr. Howard's assistant from Lakeside Medical. I thought you should know - the hospital board has opened an internal review into altered test results. If you receive any correspondence from us, please contact me directly."
Every word was like a jolt of electricity.
"What do you mean altered?"
"I can't disclose details yet," the voice replied. "But the test you received may not be valid. We'll be in touch."
The line went dead.
I just sat there. Still.
It wasn't surprise that hit me - I already knew. But hearing confirmation from someone official? It made the betrayal real.
Isla hadn't just lied to me. She'd risked everything - her credibility, her sanity - to keep control.
And for what?
Because she couldn't stand losing.
The day crawled by, heavy and grey.
I tried to distract myself - gym, shower, cleaning the kitchen - but nothing helped. My thoughts kept circling back to Elena.
I needed to see her. Not for closure. For honesty. Maybe the first real honesty between us in months.
By evening, I found myself parked outside her building again.
Her lights were on.
I could see the faint silhouette of her moving around the living room - slow, tired, distant.
I didn't go up. I didn't knock this time. I just watched, feeling that familiar ache twist inside me.
When my phone buzzed again, I almost ignored it. Then I saw the sender.
Isla.
Isla: You don't understand what you're doing, Damian. Don't push me. You'll regret it.
Isla: You think you're free? You're not.
I stared at the messages until the screen dimmed. Then another text came through - this one with an image attachment.
A photo.
Me and Elena. From weeks ago.
Taken from a distance.
My stomach turned.
She'd been watching us. All this time.
I didn't even think. I jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and headed upstairs.
I needed to warn Elena.
When she opened the door, she looked startled - not angry this time, just... tired.
"Damian," she said, voice low. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know," I said quickly, "but listen to me. Isla - she's not done. She's been following us, taking photos. I just got one."
Her brows furrowed, her guard rising again. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," I said, showing her the phone.
Her eyes widened. "That's from the park. Weeks ago."
"She sent it just now."
Elena's expression darkened - anger flashing where fear should've been. "So now she's stalking us too?"
I ran a hand over my face. "She's unraveling. And it's my fault. I shouldn't have let this go on."
"You think?"
I deserved that.
But before I could respond, my phone buzzed again. Another message - this time not from Isla.
Lakeside Medical Board:
The paternity results issued on 9/23 have been invalidated pending investigation. We regret the error.
Elena read the text over my shoulder. Her lips parted slightly. "Invalidated?"
I nodded slowly. "It means... the test was fake. The baby isn't mine."
Her eyes met mine, and for a split second, I saw something flicker there - shock, disbelief, maybe even relief. But she didn't say a word.
I swallowed hard. "I swear to you, I didn't know. I was stupid to believe her."
She folded her arms. "So what now?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'm not letting her drag me down again. Not this time."
We stood there in silence for a moment, the tension thick but different - no longer pure anger, but something rawer, more human.
Finally, Elena sighed, looking away. "You should go."
I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."
But before I left, I said one thing - maybe the most honest thing I'd said in months.
"I don't expect forgiveness. But I'm not giving up on us either."
And then I walked away.