Chapter 56 – There’s a Woman at the Gate (Damian’s POV)

Chapter 56 – There’s a Woman at the Gate (Damian’s POV)
Morning sun filtered weakly through the curtains when I jerked awake. For a disorienting moment, I felt warmth and softness and Ivy in my arms, and I dared to hope the night’s bliss hadn’t soured. Ivy was still tucked against me, her back pressed to my chest under the blankets. My heart squeezed with a tender contentment I’d never known before. This was right—she belonged there with me, waking up in my arms every morning.

But the fragile peace didn’t last. As consciousness returned fully, so did the memories of yesterday’s turmoil with whoever was spying on us. Guilt and dread seeped in, darkening that contentment. Ivy began to stir. The instant she registered my arm draped over her waist and our tangled legs, her entire body went tense.

I held my breath. Maybe—maybe we could pretend for a few moments that everything was okay. I nuzzled lightly against the back of her neck. “Good morning,” I whispered, voice rasping.

She said nothing at first. Slowly, she wriggled from my arm and sat up, clutching the sheet to cover herself. When Ivy turned to look at me, her expression was closed off, distant. My heart sank.

“Morning,” she muttered. Her voice was flat, giving nothing away. Without another word, she slid out of bed, taking the sheet with her like a makeshift robe. The sunlight slanting through the window ignited a golden halo around her messy dark hair. My beautiful mate… who currently wouldn’t even meet my eyes.

“Ivy—” I began, sitting up. The words I’d rehearsed in my head last night—apologies, promises—jammed in my throat. She didn’t wait for them.

“I have to shower,” she said curtly. “We have a long day.” With that, she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind her.

I stared at the wooden door, my chest aching. Well, what did I expect—that one night of passion would magically heal all wounds? Maybe part of me had foolishly hoped, yes. But reality crashed in: Ivy was still hurt. Still wary. And I… I wasn’t sure how to fix it.

I dressed quickly, trying to tamp down the rising panic. Today was supposed to be a good day—no major pack meetings, a chance to focus on bridging the gap with Ivy. Instead, fate had other plans.

As I buttoned my shirt, a sharp rap on the bedroom door startled me. I cast a glance at the bathroom. Water was running; Ivy was definitely not coming out anytime soon. Before I could think it deep enough, I went for the main door and opened it a crack.

As if just in time, Simon, one of the gang boys, stood there, looking agitated. He dipped his head respectfully when he saw me but launched straight in. “Alpha, apologies for the interruption. There’s… a situation at the front gate.”

I frowned. “What sort of situation?”

He grimaced. “A woman demanding entry. She claims to know you. And she has a child with her.”

For one stupid moment, I thought this was Matteo at it again, doing what he did best – playing stupid. Had he sent some woman with a bomb or something. But then Simon added, “She gave her name as Bianca Romano.”

What?

My thoughts geared to an abrupt stop and the whole world stilled around me. That was not possible.

My stomach plummeted. Bianca. Hell.

I barked out an order for Simon to hold her at the gate until I arrived, and slammed the door shut. Through the rush of blood in my ears, I barely registered that the shower had turned off. Ivy must have heard something, because she emerged moments later, wrapped in a towel and dripping.

She glanced at my half-buttoned shirt and distraught expression. “What’s wrong?”

I almost told her. Almost blurted that my ex-lover was at the gate with a—child? Did Simon say child? It couldn’t be what it sounded like. My mind whirled.

“Damian,” Ivy pressed, eyebrows drawing together. “What happened?” Concern laced her tone despite her guardedness.

I snapped out of it. “Nothing for you to worry about,” I lied stiffly. “It’s pack business. I’ll handle it.” I hated shutting her out, but I needed facts first. I couldn’t drop this on her without knowing what the hell was going on.

Her eyes narrowed, hurt flickering there before she masked it. “Fine,” she said quietly, turning away. That single syllable carried the sting of a dozen unspoken arguments.

Heart hammering, I pivoted and rushed out, guilt trailing me like a spectre.

Five minutes later I strode across the gravel drive toward the tall wrought-iron front gates of the estate. Even from a distance I spotted the flash of red—Bianca’s trademark colour—beyond the bars. A cluster of guards tried to block her path, but she’d planted herself like an actress center-stage, apparently mid-tirade.

One guard saw me coming and quickly triggered the gate mechanism. The iron doors swung open with a groan.

Bianca Romano stood there in all her glory—flamboyant and utterly out of place on my doorstep. Platinum-blond hair in artful waves, oversized designer sunglasses perched atop her head like a tiara, a red cashmere coat moulded to her hourglass form, and stiletto boots that cost more than some cars. Trust Bianca to dress as if she was attending a photoshoot for “Rich and Fabulous” even on an unannounced visit.

In her arms, she carried a small boy—couldn’t be older than four or five. My brain went momentarily blank at the sight of the child. Dark, unruly curls framed a cherubic face with big green eyes. He was clutching a stuffed fox and staring at me curiously.

It felt like the earth dropped out from under me. No. No, this couldn’t—

“Damian!” Bianca trilled as if we were old friends meeting for brunch. Her full red lips pulled into a dazzling smile. “Surprise!”

I stopped a few paces from her, fists clenched at my sides. My guards hovered uncertainly, awaiting my cue. I nodded curtly at them. “Stand down. I’ll handle this.” They fell back, though several remained within earshot, weapons subtly unsheathed. Good.

Now, back to me and this goddamn woman…