One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Arielle had thought the hard part was over.
She was wrong.
Moving into the Kingston estate had been a logistical nightmare—boxes, toys, and tiny shoes scattered like confetti across polished marble floors. The mansion felt like a museum—grand, cold, echoing with footsteps. Not a place for eight noisy, messy, curious children.
But it wasn’t the space that made her nervous.
It was the man standing at the base of the sweeping staircase, watching as she unbuckled each child from their booster seats and carried in bags of snacks, diapers, and dreams.
Damien.
Their father.
Their stranger.
Hazel was the first to see him. She tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle.
“You again,” she said.
Damien knelt. “Hey, Hazel. I remember you.”
She stepped forward and poked his cheek. “You don’t look like a dad.”
Eli, ever the suspicious one, hovered near the doorway, arms crossed. “Are you rich?”
Damien smiled. “Very.”
Eli narrowed his eyes. “Are you mean?”
Damien’s smile faded. “Sometimes.”
Arielle stiffened.
“But only to people who try to hurt what’s mine,” Damien added, softer now. “And that includes all of you.”
The room fell silent.
Lily, small and observant, climbed into Arielle’s lap and whispered, “Is he staying?”
Arielle looked at Damien. Then back at her daughter.
“Yes.”
And that single word sent ripples through the house.
The first week was chaos.
Eli refused to call him “Dad.” Instead, he referred to Damien as “That Guy” or “Sir Moneybags.”
Hazel shadowed Damien everywhere—asking questions, pulling on his cufflinks, trying on his expensive shoes.
Lily cried every night and needed Arielle to sleep beside her.
Noah and Leo got into a screaming match in the home theater because they couldn’t agree on which superhero movie to watch—and Damien tried, bless him, to referee with all the grace of a first-time swim instructor tossed into shark-infested waters.
It was loud. It was awkward. It was real.
And slowly… it began to shift.
One night, Arielle found Damien sitting in the nursery.
Leo was asleep on his shoulder.
His tie was crooked. His expression was soft.
“She had a nightmare,” Damien whispered. “I didn’t know what to do, so I told her about when I was little. How I used to hide under the stairs during thunderstorms.”
Arielle leaned against the doorframe. “That worked?”
He looked up. “She said I talk too much. Then she fell asleep.”
Arielle laughed, warm and tired.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted.
“Neither do I,” she replied.
And for the first time in weeks, they shared a moment that wasn’t tinged with fear or regret.
Just quiet hope.
The next morning, Damien made pancakes.
Burnt pancakes.
The smoke alarm went off. Hazel giggled uncontrollably. Eli declared the fire “a warning sign from the breakfast gods.”
But they ate every bite.
And when Damien knelt beside them to tie Leo’s sneaker, his hands fumbling, Arielle saw it—the beginnings of something real.
Connection.
Family.
But not everyone was convinced.
Eli waited until the others had left the room.
He stood in front of Damien, all eight years of him bristling with challenge.
“If you hurt her,” he said quietly, “I’ll hate you forever.”
Damien nodded slowly.
“I’d deserve it.”
They stared at each other.
Then Eli turned and ran after his siblings.
Damien stood alone in the kitchen, heart heavier than before—but somehow more certain.
Because love wasn’t instant.
It was earned.
And he was finally ready to do just that.