One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 156: Chapter 156

It was the kind of rainy morning that made everything feel heavier. The clouds hung low like the sky itself was holding its breath, waiting for what would be uncovered next.
Damien sat at the breakfast table, phone pressed to his ear, fingers tapping a slow, uneasy rhythm against the wood. Across from him, Emory munched on toast, humming softly to himself as he arranged his fruit slices into careful little shapes. Arielle watched them both, heart aching with uncertainty.
"Yes. Discreet," Damien said into the phone. "No contact unless cleared. I want everything. Background, timeline, family. I want to know if the story she told me is hers—or something borrowed."
A pause.
"Name’s Luciana Vero. You’ll find her."
He hung up, the quiet afterward thunderous.
Arielle sipped her tea. She’d barely touched her food.
Damien turned to her. "This is the only way I know how to take back control."
She nodded. "I know."
But something gnawed at her. Something about Luciana's presence, her subtle control, the way she dropped Emory into their lives like a time bomb... it didn’t feel like manipulation for power.
It felt like desperation.
Later that day, while Damien took the kids to the park, Arielle slipped away. She drove to the small café on the east end, one she hadn’t visited in years. It was quiet, warm, the smell of cinnamon and old wood lingering like a childhood memory.
Luciana was already there, seated at a window booth. She looked tired—less glamorous than when she first appeared on their doorstep, more human. Her hands curled around a mug like they were hiding.
“I didn’t expect you,” Luciana said, voice cautious.
Arielle sat. “That’s why I came alone.”
Luciana’s gaze flickered over her face. “Is this… a warning?”
“No,” Arielle said. “It’s a request. For the truth. The real one.”
Luciana took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. “I never wanted it to come to this.”
“Then why did you come to our door?”
“Because Emory was asking questions. He knew he didn’t look like the man who raised him. He found photos. He asked if I was lying. And I couldn’t anymore.”
Arielle narrowed her eyes. “So you showed up with a DNA test? Without even calling?”
“I was scared.” Luciana’s voice cracked. “I lost everything once before. I didn’t want to lose him too. I thought if I brought him to Damien, maybe he’d… maybe he’d protect him. Love him. Like I couldn’t anymore.”
Arielle stilled. “What do you mean?”
Luciana looked out the window. “I’m sick. It’s not terminal—yet. But it’s coming. My heart. It’s weakening. Genetic. It took my mother when I was twenty. I might not have much time.”
The words hit Arielle like bricks.
“And you didn’t think to say that before?”
Luciana’s hands shook. “I didn’t know how. And when I saw how kind Damien was with him, how Emory smiled in your home... I didn’t want to ruin it.”
Arielle clenched her jaw. “There’s still something wrong with the story. The dates don’t add up. Damien’s father thinks—”
“That it might be his?” Luciana finished.
Arielle’s breath caught.
Luciana nodded. “I thought so too, once. But no. Damien is the father. I know. I never touched Elias. He was... obsessed. Controlling. But not in that way. Damien... he was a soft place. A mistake, maybe. But one I never regretted.”
Arielle sat back, stunned.
“Then why the inconsistencies?”
Luciana hesitated. “Because I was terrified. I lied about the birth date. Changed it on records. Hid for years. I didn’t want the Montgomery name on my son’s life. I didn’t want him tangled in their legacy. But I failed. I should’ve told the truth from the start.”
Arielle swallowed thickly. “Why come clean now?”
Luciana’s eyes glistened. “Because he deserves a family when I’m gone.”
That night, Damien found Arielle in the nursery, folding baby clothes in silence. He could tell she'd cried. But her hands were steady now.
He sat beside her on the floor. “I hired someone. He’s starting to dig. Are you mad?”
She shook her head. “No. I talked to her.”
He blinked. “You what?”
“She’s sick, Damien. Dying. That’s why she came. She’s not perfect, but she’s not malicious.”
Damien’s jaw clenched. “Then why the lies?”
“Because she was protecting him in the only way she knew how.”
He looked down at his hands. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough for this.”
“You are,” Arielle whispered. “Because love makes us strong, whether we want it or not.”
She placed a small onesie in his lap—the one Emory wore on his first night in their home.
“We have to be ready. For whatever the truth brings.”
He nodded slowly.
They sat there, surrounded by tiny socks, soft cotton, and the weight of too many truths finally surfacing.