UNSOLICITED JOY

UNSOLICITED JOY

Damien's pov

Joy radiated through my entire body, so sudden and overwhelming that it felt almost foreign. I lay there in the quiet, staring at the ceiling of Noah’s room, and for once my mind wasn’t racing toward panic, threats, or unanswered questions.

I was happy.

Not the controlled, fleeting kind of satisfaction I’d built companies on. Not the hollow victories that came with money and power.

This was raw. Unsolicited. Real.

My wife was home.

My son was asleep beside her.

And for the first time in weeks,months—I felt like the world had finally righted itself.

I turned my head slightly, careful not to disturb either of them. Lena was curled protectively around Noah, her arm draped over his small body, her cheek resting against his hair. Noah slept deeply, one of his legs thrown over her like he owned her entirely—which, honestly, he did.

The sight punched something deep in my chest.

They were mine.

And this time, I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything hurt her again. Not Vivian. Not the world. Not my own stupidity.

Never again.

A thought stirred quietly in my mind, soft at first, then growing louder the longer I watched her breathe.

I should propose again.

The idea bloomed slowly, warming my chest in a way that felt terrifying and perfect all at once.

Not because we needed rings or papers,

but because I wanted to start over. Clean slate. New beginning. One built on honesty, on truth, on the family we’d almost lost.

I wanted to kneel in front of her—not as a billionaire, not as a man trying to control everything—but as Damien. The man who loved her. The man who had failed her and still been given another chance.

I wanted to ask her to choose me again.

My lips curved into a faint smile at the thought.

She deserved that.

A soft knock interrupted the quiet.

I stilled immediately, glancing down at Lena and Noah to make sure neither of them stirred.

They didn’t. Good.

I carefully slipped out of bed, moving slowly, like any sudden motion might shatter this fragile peace.

I pulled the door open just enough to step into the hallway, closing it behind me with a soft click.

One of the maids stood there, hands folded neatly in front of her.

I’d called her late last night,who lived nearby, someone I trusted. I didn’t want Lena lifting a finger. Not after everything she’d been through. Cleaning, cooking, organizing—none of that was her burden right now.

She agreed immediately. I’d always treated my staff well; loyalty like that wasn’t something money could buy.

“Good morning, sir,” she said quietly.

“Morning,” I replied, lowering my voice instinctively. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. I just wanted to let you know… Miss Mia is here.”

My brows lifted slightly.

Mia.

I glanced back toward Noah’s door, imagining Lena’s reaction when she saw her. Lena had told me how much time she’d spent in Mia’s shop while she was waiting, how it had been her anchor, her refuge. Still, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. It never was, when you’d almost lost someone.

“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll come down in a moment.”

She nodded and retreated quietly.

I leaned my forehead briefly against the wall, exhaling slowly.

Part of me didn’t want to wake Lena. She looked so peaceful—so safe—wrapped around our son. But I could already picture the way her face would light up when she saw Mia. The way she’d laugh, cry, talk all at once.

She deserved that joy.

I went back into the room and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. Noah stirred slightly but didn’t wake. Lena shifted, her eyes fluttering open slowly.

“Damien?” she whispered, voice thick with sleep.

“Hey,” I murmured, brushing my thumb gently over her cheek. “Did I wake you?”

She shook her head faintly, blinking up at me. “What time is it?”

“Still early,” I said. “But… Mia’s here.”

That did it.

Lena’s eyes widened instantly, all sleep forgotten.

“Mia?” she breathed.

I smiled. “Downstairs.”

She glanced at Noah, hesitating.

“I don’t want to wake him.”

“I’ll stay with him,” I said without a second thought. “Go.”

Her lips curved into a soft smile, and she leaned up to kiss me—slow, tender, grounding. “Thank you.”

As she slipped out of bed, I watched her go, my chest swelling with emotion I didn’t try to contain.

This was everything.

I lay back down beside Noah, adjusting the blanket over him, watching his tiny chest rise and fall. My son. Safe. Loved. Whole.

I thought about everything we’d survived. Everything we’d almost lost.

And for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t terrify me.

It excited me.

Because this time, I knew exactly what I was fighting for.