One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 154: Chapter 154

It was nearly midnight when the silence between them broke—not with words, but with pages.
Arielle sat on the edge of the bed in the guest room, the envelope of DNA results lying open beside her. The house was quiet. Emory was asleep. Their children had finally settled after hours of whispered questions and subtle tension.
Damien entered the room slowly, barefoot, holding a worn leather journal.
“I kept notes,” he said simply. “Back then. When we met. When I met her.”
Arielle didn’t look up. “Why would I want to read about that?”
“Because something’s wrong.”
She turned her head.
Damien opened the journal and flipped through pages filled with cramped handwriting and dated entries.
“I started this after my dad died,” he said. “Therapist’s idea. I wrote everything—dates, feelings, even stupid stuff like what I ate or what song got stuck in my head.”
He tapped a page dated nearly nine years ago.
“Here. April 14th. That’s when I met Luciana at the gala. We had a drink. Talked. I mentioned it to a friend the next day—wrote it down because it felt like a weird coincidence. She knew my father.”
Arielle’s brow furrowed. “That would put conception around… late April, early May.”
He nodded. “But Emory’s birthday is listed as February 3rd. That’s too early.”
She sat upright. “That’s almost two months early. Are you sure?”
He handed her the printout from Luciana’s medical paperwork—she had sent over a scan of his immunization card and birth certificate. Arielle checked it. February 3rd. Born full-term.
Her heart began to thump.
“You think she’s lying?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she made a mistake. Maybe the date’s wrong. Or maybe...” Damien exhaled. “He’s not mine.”
Arielle stood, the weight of confusion pressing against her chest. “But the test said—”
“Exactly. The test says he’s mine. But if he was born in February full-term, he would’ve been conceived in May or even late April. That could line up... barely. But I left for Paris on May 2nd. I didn’t see her again.”
“You never slept with her after that?”
“I can’t say for sure. We went out twice. There was a night... we got drunk. I think something happened. But then she vanished. I left. I didn’t chase her.”
Arielle sank onto the bed, thoughts racing.
“What if he’s someone else’s?”
“The resemblance is eerie,” Damien whispered. “But something about all this feels wrong. Like pieces are being forced into a puzzle they don’t belong in.”
Arielle pressed her palms to her face. “Could she have faked the test?”
“I don’t know. We used a third-party kit. It was supervised, but still...” He paused. “There’s something else.”
She lifted her head.
“I checked the hospital he was supposedly born at. The name of the doctor on the birth certificate doesn’t match any OB-GYNs registered at that time. The hospital records are missing.”
Arielle stood again, now pacing. “So what, she stole someone else’s identity? A child? Damien, this is insane.”
“Maybe not stolen. Maybe she’s protecting him. Maybe he’s hers—but not mine. Maybe the biological father is someone else and she used my name to create safety. Or leverage.”
“And if she believes you’re the father...”
They looked at each other.
“What if Emory doesn’t know the truth?” Arielle whispered.
The idea sat between them like a grenade.
Damien rubbed his face. “I’m not abandoning him. I’ve already started to care about him. But I need to know the truth. For him. For us. For everyone.”
Arielle crossed the room and took his hand.
“I’ll help you,” she said. “We’ll find out what really happened. Together.”
In that moment, something tentative and wounded reached across the gap between them.
Trust, in its most fragile form.
Outside, the wind picked up again.
But this time, neither of them flinched.