One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

It started with a blurry photo.
Damien had taken the kids to the park. Nothing extravagant—just a few hours of fresh air, sunlight, and ice cream from a vendor who had no idea he was serving a billionaire.
They played tag. They fed ducks. Hazel lost her left shoe in the pond and declared it an act of nature.
And someone snapped a picture.
Arielle didn’t even know until she woke up to chaos the next morning.
Her phone buzzed nonstop.
“Is that Damien Kingston with a bunch of kids?”
“You seeing this?”
“Rumors flying. Press on it already.”
When she opened the gossip site link, her breath caught.
There he was—Damien—smiling with Eli on his shoulders, Hazel clinging to his leg, and Lily staring up at him like he hung the moon.
The headline was brutal.
“KINGSTON’S SECRET FAMILY?!”
She felt sick.
By the time she reached the downstairs kitchen, the staff was whispering. Damien stood at the head of the breakfast table, phone pressed to his ear, eyes dark.
“Shut it down. Every site, every thread. I don’t care how many lawyers it takes. This doesn’t go viral.”
He looked up and saw her.
Hung up.
“You knew this would happen,” she said softly.
“I was careful. It was a private park. I didn’t think—”
“No one’s ever careful enough when the cameras want blood.”
The kids sensed the tension.
Eli watched them from the hallway.
“Are we in trouble?” he asked.
Arielle turned. “No, baby. Just... noisy grown-ups.”
Within twenty-four hours, five major publications picked up the story.
Speculation turned to scrutiny. People dug through her background. Her college records. Her eviction history.
The narrative was ugly.
“Gold-digger.”
“Baby trapper.”
“Desperate single mom who tricked a billionaire.”
Damien smashed a mug against the wall when he read the comments.
“I’ll make them pay,” he said, shaking with fury. “Every single one of them.”
But Arielle wasn’t angry.
She was afraid.
She tucked the kids into bed that night, brushing their hair, kissing their foreheads, wondering how long they could stay hidden behind the estate gates.
Hazel asked, “Why are there cameras outside the trees?”
Arielle swallowed hard. “Because people are curious.”
“About us?”
“About your dad.”
The next morning, reporters camped outside the Kingston Holdings headquarters.
By evening, drones hovered above the mansion.
The children weren’t allowed outside.
Panic set in like mold. Quiet. Pervasive.
Damien convened an emergency meeting with his legal team.
“I’ll issue a statement,” he said. “Let them know you’re under my protection. That you’re mine.”
Arielle flinched. “We’re not property.”
He stopped.
His voice gentled. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You can’t just stake a claim and think the world will back off.”
“Then what do I do?” he asked, for once completely lost.
She looked at him—this man of power, shaken by something as intangible as public judgment.
“You stand beside us,” she said. “Not in front. Not above. With us.”
That night, Damien released a statement.
No flashy press conference. No paparazzi parade.
Just a written message posted to his official account:
"I ask for privacy as I learn to become the father I never knew I was meant to be. The children and their mother are my family. I protect what I love. And I love them."
The internet exploded.
Half the public swooned.
The other half demanded answers.
But in their home, something shifted.
Eli sat beside Damien that night during a documentary on wildlife. Lily curled against his other side.
No one said it aloud.
But he wasn’t a stranger anymore.
He was becoming Dad.