Chapter 148

Damian’s POV

Damian didn’t remember driving himself in a long time, but he needed to do it himself that day.

He had driven these streets a thousand times in his life—Manhattan roads, Jersey turnoffs, private estate routes—but this time, the world seemed muted, as though sound and color had been stripped down to the bare minimum needed for existence. The city passed him in fragments: traffic lights changing, pedestrians crossing, buildings blurring into one another, but none of it registered fully.

All he could see was Evelyn’s face in the courtroom. It had been quiet, restrained, the kind that didn’t scream or collapse. The kind that hollowed someone out from the inside and left them standing anyway. When Vanessa’s confession had spilled out—when the truth about the twins had detonated in that courtroom—Damian had felt something inside him tear so violently he had almost doubled over.

Twins.

Evelyn had carried twins.

And he had stood there, watching another woman parade around with one of his children while the mother of those children had been sent away like a criminal.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

Reed had given him the address after a whole lot of drama, lectures, and threats when he called him again.

“She doesn’t owe you forgiveness,” Reed had said. “Remember that.”

Damian remembered it now as he turned into the modest residential street, far removed from the kind of gated luxury he was used to. The buildings were clean, well-kept, but simple and real.

He parked across the street and didn’t get out immediately. For the first time in a long time, Damian Blackwood was afraid, he was afraid of facing Evelyn.

Afraid of what he would see in her eyes when there were no judges, no lawyers, no spectators to soften the blow. Afraid that the damage he had caused could not be undone by apologies, explanations, or regret—no matter how sincere.

He exhaled slowly and stepped out of the car.

The evening air was cool, brushing against his skin like a quiet reprimand. He crossed the street, stopped at the entrance, and stared at the door longer than necessary. This wasn’t a grand entrance, it had no guards, no staff, just a doorbell and a choice to ring it or turn back.

He rang it, anyway.

Footsteps approached from inside, the familiar ones. The door opened to reveal Carmen. She took one look at him and crossed her arms.

“Oh,” she said flatly. “You.”

Damian swallowed. “Hi Carmen, I need to see Evelyn.”

Carmen didn’t move aside. “Funny. You needed her gone not too long ago.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And I was wrong.”

Her eyes narrowed, sharp and assessing. “That doesn’t undo what she went through.”

“I’m not here to undo anything,” Damian replied. “I just… need to speak to her. Please.”

Carmen hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder.

“Evie,” she called. “He’s here.”

There was a pause.

Damian’s chest tightened with every second that passed, then Evelyn appeared.

She looked thinner, paler, not fragile—but changed. Like someone who had been forced to grow in directions she never asked for. Jayden was asleep in her arms, his small body tucked close to her chest, breathing softly, unaware of the war that had been fought over his existence.

Her eyes met Damian’s, and whatever he had prepared to say died instantly.

She didn’t glare, she didn’t accuse, she just looked tired.

“Five minutes,” Evelyn said calmly, shifting Jayden slightly. “That’s all I can give you.”

Carmen stepped aside reluctantly.

Damian entered, the door closing behind him with a soft click. They stood facing each other in the small living room.

“I’m sorry,” Damian said.

The words felt small, insufficient, and amost insulting in their simplicity.

Evelyn said nothing.

“I was wrong,” he continued, voice strained. “I should have protected you. I should have questioned everything before I questioned you. I failed you—as a man, as the father of your children.”

That did it.

Her fingers tightened slightly around Jayden.

“You don’t get to say that now,” Evelyn said softly. “Not after I spent weeks wondering what I did wrong. Not after I held my child and thought I had ruined his life by trusting you.”

Damian’s throat burned.

“I know,” he said hoarsely. “And I will spend the rest of my life making that right—if you let me.”

She shook her head slowly.

“You don’t get to decide what ‘right’ looks like,” Evelyn replied. “You already made your choices.”

Silence settled between them, heavy but honest.

Finally, she spoke again.

“They took one of my babies,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I didn’t even know.”

Damian closed his eyes.

“I know.”

“And you believed I was capable of something so horrible,” she continued. “That hurts more than anything Vanessa did.”

He opened his eyes, pain etched deeply into his face. “I will never forgive myself for that.”

Evelyn adjusted Jayden gently, rocking him instinctively. “I’m not asking you to.”

She looked at him then, truly looked at him. “But if you’re going to be in their lives,” she said carefully, “it has to be because you choose them, not because of guilt, not because of court orders.”

“I choose them,” Damian said immediately. “I choose you.”

She didn’t respond to that. Instead, she stepped back slightly, signaling the end.

“Five minutes are over,” Evelyn said quietly.

Damian nodded. “Thank you… for letting me come.”

As he turned to leave, her voice stopped him.

“Damian.”

He looked back.

“For what it’s worth,” she said, eyes glistening but steady, “I never lied to you.”

He nodded once. “I know.”

Damian walked away knowing the truth didn’t set him free—it bound him to respons

ibility, to regret, and to a long road of redemption he had no right to expect forgiveness for.

But he would walk it anyway.