Chapter 57 Time To Confront The Monster

Chapter 57 Time To Confront The Monster
Courtney's POV

I sat curled up on the sofa in Damian's living room, my cellphone balanced loosely in my hands as I stared at Anna's contact information. My thumb hovered over the call button. I couldn't make myself press it. Not yet. The last twelve hours had been a whirlwind of revelations that left my head spinning. Every time I thought I'd begun to process one bombshell, another seemed to explode before I could catch my breath. I sighed heavily and lowered the phone into my lap. Across the room, the door to Damian's home office remained firmly shut.

He'd been in there for two hours. Two very long hours. I'd lost count of how many times I'd looked at the door, debating whether I should knock. Part of me wanted to go in there. To wrap my arms around him. To tell him that we'd figure this out together. That whatever Peter Ramsey had hidden all those years ago couldn't hurt him anymore than it already had. But another part of me knew Damian well enough to recognize what he was doing. He wasn't shutting me out. He was putting himself back together. Damian processed pain in silence. He organized it. Dissected it.
Turned emotion into information before allowing himself to feel any of it. It was one of the things that both frustrated and fascinated me about him.

So instead of interrupting him, I'd stayed where I was. Waiting. Ready. Because sometimes loving someone meant knowing when to hold them...
...and when to give them room to breathe. I glanced at my phone again. Anna. She'd undoubtedly heard whispers by now. Mason would have been told by Peter about Emily's brother and the circumstances surrounding his hospitalization. I knew for a fact she was also staring at her phone, wondering if she should call or not. But how was I supposed to explain any of this?
Hey, Anna. Funny story. Peter Ramsey secretly fathered another daughter, Bella, Elena and Portia have a half-sister, and somehow Damian's late mother appears in decades-old surveillance photographs hidden inside Peter Ramsey's private files.

Even thinking it sounded ridiculous. And yet every word was true. I leaned my head back against the sofa cushion. Felicia Ardent. The woman we'd all viewed as a rival. A business opponent.
Someone who constantly seemed one step ahead. Peter Ramsey's biological daughter. Bella. Portia. Elena. Three women who had discovered they weren't the only daughters their father had left behind. I still couldn't erase the look on Bella's face when the DNA report confirmed it. She hadn't looked angry. She'd looked heartbroken. As though she'd suddenly realized she'd never truly known the man who raised her. The photo album haunted me just as much. Ramsey smiling. The mystery woman. A baby wrapped in blankets. A family no one else knew existed.

I closed my eyes. And then there were the surveillance photographs. Damian. His brothers. His mother. Years. Years of photographs. Peter Ramsey had watched them. Why? The question refused to leave me alone.
Was Damian's mother connected to Ramsey somehow? Did she know him personally? Why was he watching her? Threatening her? None of the possibilities made sense. The official explanation for her death had always revolved around what she'd learned about Ramsey's criminal dealings. But now...
Now I couldn't help wondering. What if that wasn't the whole story? What if she'd discovered something even bigger? Something involving Felicia. Something involving his hidden family.

I rubbed my forehead. My thoughts drifted to Felicia herself. The pieces were beginning to rearrange themselves in uncomfortable ways. She'd always challenged Damian. Always seemed intrigued by him. There had been teasing remarks. Lingering glances. Casual flirtation she'd brushed off as harmless entertainment. At the time, I'd chalked it up to two powerful personalities circling each other. But now...
Was any of it genuine? Or had Damian simply been another move in a much larger game? If Peter Ramsey had spent years watching Damian's family...
Had Felicia inherited more than just his blood? Had she approached Damian because she'd known exactly who he was? Or...
I frowned. Or had she been just as unaware as the rest of us? I honestly didn't know anymore. The uncertainty exhausted me.

The click of a door opening pulled me from my thoughts. I immediately looked up. Damian stepped out of his office. My heart clenched. He looked...
Worn. His usually immaculate appearance had given way to exhaustion. His sleeves were rolled unevenly. His tie was gone. The top button of his shirt hung open. Dark circles shadowed his blue eyes. He paused just inside the doorway. His gaze swept across the room. Until it found me. For a brief second, neither of us moved. Then his shoulders relaxed. Almost imperceptibly.
Without saying a word, he crossed the room. I set my phone aside. He didn't stop until he reached the couch. Then, with a quiet sigh that sounded like he'd been holding it in for hours, he stretched out beside me and rested his head in my lap.

I smiled despite everything.
"Had enough time alone in your dark cave?" I whispered.
He didn't answer. Instead, he closed his eyes. Instinctively, my fingers found his hair. I combed through the dark strands slowly. Gently. His breathing gradually evened out beneath my touch.
The tension around his mouth softened. The hard line between his brows eased. Watching it happen made my chest ache. Everyone else saw Damian McKay as untouchable. Brilliant. Calculating. Unshakable. Very few people ever witnessed this version of him. The one who silently sought comfort. The one who trusted someone enough to let his guard fall. I treasured it more than he'd ever realize.
"Court." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Hmm?" My fingers paused.
His eyes opened slowly. Blue met brown. There was so much emotion in that single look that words suddenly seemed unnecessary.
"Thank you for being here with me," he breathed.
I frowned. "Where else would I be, dummy?"

One corner of his mouth twitched. His hand lifted until his palm cupped my cheek. Warm. Gentle. He slowly guided me downward. Our lips met in a soft kiss. Tender. Almost hesitant. As though neither of us wanted to rush the moment. Then something shifted. The kiss deepened. Not with urgency. Not with desperation. But with understanding. Everything we'd held inside over the past twelve hours seemed to pour into that single embrace. Fear. Grief. Confusion. Hope. Love. His hand slipped into my hair while mine remained threaded through his. For those few precious moments, the rest of the world disappeared. No Peter Ramsey. No hidden daughters. No unanswered questions. Just us.

When we finally pulled apart, neither of us moved very far. His forehead rested lightly against mine before he leaned back enough to study my face. A crooked smile tugged at his lips. His thumb brushed softly across my lower lip.
"What?" I asked.
He shook his head before stealing one last quick peck. "I love you." He said it so casually.
As though he were commenting on the weather. As though those three words weren't capable of stopping my heart. I laughed quietly.
"I love you, too."
The response came automatically because there wasn't another answer in the world. His smile widened just enough to reach his eyes. For the first time all day, they looked lighter. Healthier.
He pushed himself upright and stood. Then he looked down at me with that familiar look I'd come to recognize. The one that meant he'd made a decision. One he wasn't about to change.
"What's happening here?" I asked.
Instead of answering immediately, he extended his hand toward me. I stared at it for a moment before slipping my fingers into his. He pulled me effortlessly to my feet.
"A date," he said.
I blinked.
"A date?"
"Mm-hmm."
His expression remained frustratingly calm.
"With a son of a bitch."
I laughed once. Mostly out of confusion.
"I'm sorry..."
I pointed between us. "We're going on a date... with a son of a bitch?"
He nodded. "I just wanted to help you relax a bit before we head out."
My confusion only deepened.
"Damian..."

He squeezed my hand. His gaze locked onto mine. Every trace of softness disappeared, replaced by the focused determination I'd seen countless times in boardrooms. Only this wasn't business. This was personal. Very personal.
"A date..." I repeated slowly. "With..."
He held my gaze. "Peter Ramsey."
The words landed like a stone in my stomach. My pulse skipped. I searched his face for any sign that he was joking. There wasn't one. My mouth went dry.
"Damian..."
"We're going to see him."
I stared. My mind struggled to catch up.
"Now?"
Peter Ramsey was a permanent resident of a federal prison. Or at least, everyone believed he was. Where he was exactly was being kept secret from the world. Because Peter Ramsey had promised to name all the people involved in his schemes, and the higher-ups decided to take his bait and hid him away.

Damian's grip tightened around my hand.
"We're going to get the answers we need."
There was no anger in his voice. No hatred. Only certainty. For the first time since the DNA report had shattered everything we thought we knew, Damian McKay wasn't reacting to Peter Ramsey's secrets. He was going after them. And somehow, as I looked into his determined blue eyes, I realized our lives were about to change all over again.