Chapter 21 Chapter 21

Chapter 21 Chapter 21
Damon’s POV
My grandfather took another drag from his cigar. The smoke curled up slowly in the dim light. His eyes were cold as they looked at Scarlett.
"Just like your father," he said. His voice was rough. Disgusted. "Always bringing trash into this family."
My jaw clenched. Heat flooded through my chest. Every muscle in my body went tight.
I'd heard this kind of talk my whole life. Every insult. Every comparison to my father. Every reminder that I was the bastard son. The one who didn't belong.
But hearing him say it about Scarlett? About my wife?
I opened my mouth to respond.
Scarlett beat me to it.
"Damon," she said. Her voice was calm. Sweet even. "Why would you bring me to meet questionable relatives?"
I froze. Stared at her.
Did she just—
My grandfather's face turned red. The cigar stopped halfway to his mouth.
"What did you just say?" His voice was dangerous now.
Scarlett tilted her head. Like she was genuinely confused. "I asked why Damon would bring me to meet questionable relatives. Isn't that a fair question?"
She looked at me. Those light eyes were completely innocent. "You said we were meeting your grandfather. A respected elder. But this man just called me trash. That doesn't seem very respectable."
I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard. To keep from smiling.
She was defending me. Standing up to my grandfather. No one did that.
"You sharp-tongued little—" My grandfather slammed his hand on the desk. "You have no idea who you're talking to. I could destroy you with one phone call."
The air in the room went ice cold.
I should stop this. I should smooth things over. Make peace.
But I didn't want to.
For the first time in my life, someone was fighting for me. Defending my honor. Calling out the old man's bullshit.
And it felt good.
"Grandfather," I said. My voice was calm. "Scarlett is my wife. She's carrying my child. If you can't speak to her with respect, we'll leave."
His eyes snapped to mine. Shocked.
I'd never talked back to him like this before. Never drawn a line in the sand.
But things were different now. I had someone to protect. Someone who mattered more than keeping peace with a bitter old man.
"You dare—" he started.
"Yes," I interrupted. "I dare. Scarlett is family now. Treat her like it, or we're done here."
My grandfather stared at me. Then at Scarlett. Then back at me.
Finally, he made a disgusted sound. Waved his hand dismissively. "Fine. Sit. Eat. Since you're already here."
It wasn't an apology. It never would be.
But it was the closest thing to acceptance I'd ever get from him.
I pulled out a chair for Scarlett. She sat down slowly. I took the seat next to her.
My grandfather rang a small bell on his desk.
The housekeeper appeared immediately. An older woman with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. "Sir?"
"Bring dinner," he said.
"Yes, sir."
She disappeared. Returned minutes later with two more staff members. They set the table quickly. Efficiently.
Roast beef. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Dinner rolls. A bottle of red wine.
The housekeeper poured wine for my grandfather and me. Water for Scarlett.
Then they all left. The door closed behind them with a soft click.
We ate in silence.
The only sounds were silverware scraping against plates. The occasional clink of a glass being set down.
I could feel the tension. Scarlett ate slowly. Her posture was perfect. She looked completely calm.
My grandfather cut his beef with sharp, angry movements. The knife scraped against the plate. Loud in the quiet room.
I ate mechanically. Tasting nothing. My mind was somewhere else.
This dinner was a mistake. I'd known it would be. But I'd had to try. Had to give the old man a chance to meet Scarlett. To acknowledge our marriage.
The sound of a car engine broke the silence.
Loud. Aggressive. Someone revving the engine unnecessarily.
My grandfather's head lifted. His expression changed. Brightened slightly.
The housekeeper knocked. "Sir, Rocco is at the door."
My hand tightened around my fork.
My grandfather's face lit up. Actually lit up. "Let him in."
I slammed my fork down on the table. Hard.
The sound echoed through the room.
My grandfather's expression darkened. "Control yourself."
"No," I said. My voice was ice. "You need to hear this. One month ago, I was ambushed. Two professional hitmen. They drugged me. Tried to kill me. Do you want to know who hired them?"
His eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Uncle Dominic."
Silence.
"You're lying," my grandfather said. But his voice wavered.
"I'm not lying. I have proof. Recordings. Bank transfers. Everything." I leaned forward. Let him see the cold fury in my eyes. "Dominic tried to have me killed so Rocco could take over the family business."
"That's a serious accusation—"
"It's the truth. And I'm telling you this right now because I need you to understand something very clearly." I gestured toward Scarlett. "If Dominic or anyone from his family lays a finger on Scarlett, I'll help them pick out a cemetery plot. Do you understand me?"
My grandfather's face went pale. Then red. "You're threatening your own family—"
"I'm protecting my family." I reached over. Passed Scarlett the platter of roast beef. My movements were casual. Deliberate. "Scarlett is pregnant."
The words hung in the air.
My grandfather froze. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth. His eyes went wide.
"What?" His voice came out strangled.
"Scarlett is carrying my child. Your great-grandchild." I cut another piece of beef. Kept my voice level. "So when I say I'll protect her, I mean it. If Dominic comes near her, if Rocco even looks at her wrong, I will end them. Family or not."
My grandfather was obsessed with legacy. With continuing the Wolfe name. He'd spent his entire life building this empire. And he was terrified it would die with him.
An illegitimate grandson was a disappointment. But a great-grandchild? That was the future.
I watched his face. Saw the conflict there.
"A baby," he whispered. His voice was different now. Softer.
"Yes."
He set down his fork. His hands were shaking slightly. "You're sure?"
"The doctors confirmed it."
His eyes moved to Scarlett. Studied her. This time the look wasn't hostile. It was almost... protective.
"How far along?"
"About four weeks."
He nodded slowly. Processing. His fingers drummed on the table.
I could see him making calculations. Weighing options. Trying to figure out how to handle this new information.
The housekeeper knocked again. "Sir? Rocco is still at the door. He's asking to see you."
My grandfather's jaw tightened. He looked at me. Then at Scarlett. Then at the housekeeper.
"Tell Rocco to leave," he said. His voice was firm. "Now."
The housekeeper's eyes widened. "Sir?"
"You heard me. Tell him to leave. And tell Dominic not to come around anymore either."
"Yes, sir." She left quickly.
I felt something loosen in my chest. He'd chosen. Between his grandson Rocco and his great-grandchild. He'd chosen the baby.
Dominic would find out about the pregnancy soon enough anyway. Better to use it now. To establish boundaries. To make it clear that Scarlett was under my protection.
And under my grandfather's protection too, apparently.
A minute later, we heard shouting from outside.
"What the hell do you mean I can't come in?" Rocco's voice was loud. Angry. "This is my grandfather's house! I have every right to be here!"
The butler's voice was quieter. Apologetic. We couldn't hear his exact words.
"Bullshit!" Rocco screamed. "This is Damon's doing, isn't it? That bastard! He's turning grandfather against his own family!"
More shouting. Getting louder. More vulgar.
"Fucking bastard! Son of a bitch! He thinks he can just take everything!"
I continued eating. Kept my face blank. I'd heard worse. Much worse.
"Tell that bastard Damon to come out here! Tell him to face me like a man instead of hiding behind grandfather!"
My grandfather frowned. Set down his wine glass. "Ignore him. He'll leave eventually."
"Your whore mother couldn't keep her legs closed, could she?" Rocco's voice carried through the walls. "That's why we're stuck with you! That cheap slut—"
I set down my fork. My face showed nothing. But inside, rage burned white-hot.
Insult me all you want. Call me a bastard. Question my legitimacy.
But talk about my mother?
My hands clenched into fists under the table.
Scarlett stood up suddenly. "May I go upstairs for a moment?" Her voice was polite.