One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 150: Chapter 150

It was a quiet Sunday morning when everything shifted.
The sunlight poured through the villa’s arched windows like golden syrup, thick and warm. The smell of vanilla pancakes wafted through the air. Laughter spilled from the kitchen where Damien was trying to flip pancakes one-handed while their toddler clung to his leg like a stubborn koala. Arielle leaned in the doorway, watching with sleepy affection, her mug of tea warm in her hands.
The moment was simple. Soft. Whole.
Until the knock.
Three sharp raps against the mahogany front door.
Arielle frowned. They weren’t expecting anyone. Not here. Not on the island.
Damien untangled himself from the toddler, wiped his hands on a towel, and went to answer it.
Arielle followed behind, curiosity building into something quieter, tighter.
The woman standing on the doorstep was tall, elegant, and eerily composed. She wore sunglasses, but Arielle could feel the cold calculation in her stance, the tension in the lines of her mouth.
Damien froze.
Arielle felt it immediately—the stiffening of his shoulders, the way his hand clenched around the doorknob.
The woman removed her sunglasses.
“Hello, Damien.”
Her voice was smooth. Familiar.
Arielle’s stomach twisted.
Damien stepped out onto the porch, forcing the door closed behind him.
But Arielle followed, stepping into the space between them.
The woman’s gaze swept over her. Not judgmental. Not cruel. But weighted.
“I’m Luciana,” she said finally, eyes never leaving Arielle’s. “I believe you’ve heard my name.”
Arielle’s heartbeat roared in her ears.
Luciana.
Damien moved between them. “This isn’t the time.”
Luciana’s jaw set. “I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t urgent.”
Arielle’s voice was calm. Icy. “Then say what you came to say.”
Luciana hesitated. Then spoke clearly.
“I have a child. He’s eight. And I believe he’s Damien’s.”
The air collapsed.
Damien stepped back like he’d been punched. Arielle stared, unable to move, unable to breathe.
“No,” Damien whispered. “That’s not possible.”
Luciana’s eyes glistened, but her voice stayed level. “I didn’t come for money. I don’t want anything from you. But he’s asking questions. And I think he deserves answers.”
Arielle’s mouth finally moved. “You never told me about her.”
“Because I didn’t think it mattered,” Damien said quietly. “We dated briefly. It was nothing. We lost touch. She disappeared.”
“I didn’t disappear,” Luciana said sharply. “You disappeared. You ghosted me.”
Silence.
Arielle’s world spun.
Damien turned to her, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”
Luciana stepped forward, softer now. “I kept him from you, yes. At first. Out of pride. Then fear. But now… I’m tired of secrets.”
Arielle swallowed the bitter knot in her throat. “Why now?”
“Because he’s sick,” Luciana said. Her eyes shimmered. “It’s not life-threatening. But he needs a genetic match for a treatment. And Damien might be his only shot.”
Damien looked like the wind had been knocked from him.
Arielle didn’t speak.
Couldn’t speak.
The storm within her churned—shock, betrayal, confusion, a sliver of sympathy. But mostly… fear. Of what this meant. For their family. For her children.
“Let me see him,” Damien said at last. “If he’s mine, I’ll help. Of course I will.”
Luciana nodded, stepped back, and opened the back door of her car.
Out stepped a boy. Tall for his age, with unruly curls and the exact same storm-gray eyes as Damien.
Arielle’s breath hitched.
The boy looked at Damien.
And Damien looked at himself—eight years younger.
There was no denying it.
Arielle turned and walked back into the house, her hands trembling as the sound of the waves swallowed the world behind her.