Chapter 8 - The Man Who Refused to Become His Father
Silas was right about one thing.
Damian's organization was falling apart.
Several men loyal to his father challenged his leadership.
They believed Damian had become weak.
Because of me.
One evening, Damian returned home with blood on his shirt.
I stood up.
“What happened?”
“Nothing serious.”
“Stop saying that.”
He smiled.
“You're becoming bossy.”
“I'm becoming worried.”
He kissed my forehead.
“I handled it.”
“How?”
“I told them the organization changes with me.”
“And if they refuse?”
“They won't.”
But I knew Damian.
He was hiding something.
Two days later, I discovered the truth.
He was preparing to dissolve the most dangerous parts of the organization.
No weapons.
No illegal businesses.
No protection rackets.
He wanted to turn the legitimate companies into legal businesses.
His advisers thought he was insane.
I asked him why.
“Because I don't want our children growing up believing violence is normal.”
I stared at him.
“Children?”
He smiled.
“Someday.”
My heart melted.
But his decision came with a price.
Several old members betrayed him.
An attack was planned.
This time, I refused to stay behind.
I helped Damian expose the remaining criminal network through the federal investigation.
The evidence was overwhelming.
Within months, the organization was dismantled.
Damian cooperated fully.
He surrendered assets.
Testified against senior members.
And transformed the legitimate businesses.
The media expected a war.
Instead, they witnessed a man dismantling the empire he had inherited.
People called him weak.
Others called him a traitor.
Damian didn't care.
He had chosen a different life.
One morning, he came home holding a small box.
“What is that?”
“Open it.”
Inside was a ring.
Not extravagant.
Elegant.
A small diamond surrounded by black stones.
I stared at him.
“Damian.”
He knelt.
“I met you in an elevator.”
I laughed through tears.
“You lied about being a repairman.”
“You assumed.”
“You wrote down everything I said.”
“I still have the notebook.”
He smiled.
“I thought you were interesting.”
“You thought I was dangerous.”
“I still do.”
He took my hand.
“I don't want to own you.”
He paused.
“I want to build something with you.”
Tears rolled down my face.
“Yes.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger.
Then he kissed me.
But the happiness didn't last long.
Three months later, I discovered I was pregnant.
I stared at the test.
Then laughed.
Then cried.
Then called Damian.
He arrived home within twenty minutes.
“What happened?”
I held up the test.
He stared.
Then looked at me.
“Is that—”
“Yes.”
He picked me up.
I laughed.
“Put me down!”
“No.”
“You're going to hurt me.”
“Never.”
He kissed my forehead.
For the first time in his life, Damian Moretti wasn't thinking about power.
He was thinking about a family.
But one final enemy remained.
A man named Elias Moretti.
Damian's father.
The man everyone believed was dead.
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He had been hiding.
And now he had learned about the baby.
