Chapter 85 Oh Angie
I shot her a look. “You’re very annoying, you know that?”
Angie grinned, completely unbothered. “And you’re very in denial.”
“I am not—”
“You are,” she cut in, pointing her spoon at me like she was making a legal argument. “Because if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t be pacing every time your phone buzzes.”
“I am not pacing.”
“You were literally pacing two minutes ago.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.
Because… okay, maybe I had been pacing.
But that didn’t mean anything.
Right?
I picked up my phone this time, almost angrily, like I was proving a point to both of us.
Another message from Damian.
We need to talk, Elena.
You don’t get to shut me out of this.
She’s my daughter.
My jaw tightened.
There it was again.
My daughter.
Not our. Not even Mila.
Just… possession.
I typed a reply.
You lost the right to make demands the moment you chose someone else over me.
I stared at the message.
Then deleted it.
No.
I wasn’t doing this.
I dropped the phone back on the table.
Angie watched me quietly this time, her teasing expression gone. “You’re going to have to face him eventually.”
“Not today,” I said.
“And tomorrow?”
“We’ll see.”
She sighed but didn’t push further. “Just don’t wait until he forces it. Because that man looks like the type.”
I didn’t respond.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
—
The next morning came too quickly.
Mila woke me up before the sun fully rose, her tiny cries soft but persistent. I carried her into the living room, humming absentmindedly as I fed her.
Moments like this grounded me.
No drama. No Damian. No past.
Just me and her.
“See?” I whispered, brushing her cheek lightly. “We’re okay.”
A lie I was trying very hard to believe.
By mid-morning, Angie had left to run errands, and the house felt unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
I had just finished putting Mila down for a nap when—
Another knock.
My entire body stilled.
Not again.
I walked slowly to the door this time, every instinct on alert.
When I opened it, my breath caught.
Damian.
Of course.
He stood there like he owned the air around him, but there was something different. Less polished. Less controlled. His eyes looked… tired.
Good.
“What are you doing here?” I asked flatly.
He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. “You weren’t replying.”
“That’s usually a sign,” I said, folding my arms.
“Elena—”
“No.” I raised a hand. “You don’t get to just show up at my house because I didn’t answer your texts.”
His jaw tightened. “She’s my daughter.”
“There it is again,” I muttered.
“What?”
“That word. My. Like she’s a business deal you’re trying to claim.”
His eyes flashed. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Twist this.”
“I’m not twisting anything, Damian. I’m just not playing along.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You kept my child from me for almost a year.”
I laughed once, sharp and bitter. “Oh, we’re doing this now?”
“Yes, we are.”
“Good,” I snapped. “Because last time I checked, when I tried to tell you I was pregnant, you were too busy asking me who the father was.”
He froze.
Silence stretched between us.
“I—” he started, then stopped.
“Exactly,” I said quietly. “So don’t come here acting like I robbed you of something you didn’t even believe was yours.”
His expression shifted, something like guilt flickering across his face before he buried it.
“That doesn’t change anything now,” he said. “I know the truth.”
“And what do you want? A medal?” I shot back. “Congratulations, you finally caught up.”
“Elena—”
“No, you don’t get to ‘Elena’ me like that.” My voice dropped, but it was steady. “You have a wife.”
That landed.
Hard.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “This isn’t about Rachael.”
“It is to me,” I said. “Because I’m not raising my child in the middle of whatever mess that is.”
“She deserves to know her father.”
“And she will,” I said immediately. “When I decide it’s safe for her.”
His eyes darkened. “You don’t get to decide that alone.”
“I’ve been deciding everything alone since the day I found out I was pregnant,” I replied. “So yes. I do.”
The tension between us was thick now. Heavy. Familiar.
Dangerous.
For a second, neither of us spoke.
Then, softly, he said, “Can I see her?”
The question caught me off guard.
Not a demand.
Not an argument.
Just… that.
I hesitated.
And in that hesitation, I saw it.
The shift.
The crack in my resolve.
“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered, stepping back from the door. “Five minutes.”
Relief flickered across his face, but he masked it quickly.
I led him inside.
Every step felt like I was crossing a line I had sworn I wouldn’t.
Mila was still asleep when we entered the room. I moved quietly, standing beside her crib.
Damian stopped a few steps behind me.
Then slowly… carefully… he moved closer.
He looked down at her.
And everything in his face changed.
Gone was the anger. The arrogance. The control.
All that was left was something raw. Something real.
“She’s…” he exhaled, almost like he couldn’t find the words.
“Yeah,” I said softly.
He didn’t touch her.
He just stood there, staring like he was trying to memorize every detail at once.
“She looks like you,” he said.
I almost laughed.
“She doesn’t,” I replied. “Look closer.”
He did.
And then his expression shifted again.
Recognition.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” I said.
Silence filled the room again, but this one felt different.
He finally tore his gaze away from her and looked at me.
“What happens now?” he asked quietly.
I held his gaze.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
And that was the truth.
Because everything I had said yesterday…
Everything I believed…
Everything I told Julian—
It was already starting to fall apart.
And I hated it.
I hated that he could walk back into my life and shift things this easily.
I hated that a part of me still responded to him.
I hated that this wasn’t over.
Not even close.
Because now…
It wasn’t just about me anymore.
It was about Mila.
And whether I liked it or not—
Damian wasn’t going anywhere.