One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 44: Chapter 44

The next morning brought a sense of quiet tension to Rosebridge Academy. Word of Damien Lancaster’s dramatic school gate appearance had spread like wildfire. It was now the whispered centerpiece of every hallway conversation and parent chat group.
Arielle stepped onto school grounds with the same grace and caution as someone walking into a courtroom. She wore a cream blouse and wide-leg slacks, understated elegance with a hint of defiance in her stride.
But the stares were sharper now. Hungrier.
They weren’t just judging. They were calculating.
She could feel them—those invisible claws—trying to pull her apart again.
The whispers trailed behind her like smoke:
“Do you think it was staged?”
“He kissed her in public. He never even looked at his ex-fiancée like that.”
“She didn’t earn her spot—she married into it.”
“She’s so… ordinary.”
Arielle bit down on her tongue and focused on her destination—the PTA orientation meeting in the auditorium. She had promised her daughter she’d volunteer for the upcoming spring fair, no matter how suffocating the room became.
She entered the building, her heels echoing against the polished marble, heart thumping like a war drum.
Rows of mothers had already seated themselves—Vivienne Astor, of course, in the front row, flanked by her loyal clique. They wore expressions dipped in syrup and poison.
Arielle chose a seat closer to the back, near a window. She kept her shoulders back, her chin up.
“Mrs. Lancaster,” a soft voice said beside her.
She turned. It was one of the younger mothers—Ella, maybe? Quiet, artsy, always with paint on her nails.
“I just wanted to say... I think you're brave,” the woman whispered. “And your daughter is lovely.”
Arielle felt a crack form in the ice gripping her chest. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”
The meeting began. Boring, bureaucratic points about snack stations and ticketing and floral arrangements were thrown around like grenades. Vivienne tried to monopolize the microphone, inserting jabs wrapped in silk.
“And we must consider appearances,” she said sweetly, “especially after... recent controversies. We wouldn't want anyone’s personal life to overshadow the children’s achievements.”
Arielle smiled tightly but remained silent.
Until the fire alarm went off.
Everyone froze.
Then—
A collective rustle as the emergency alert system blared and a voice came over the intercom.
“This is not a drill. Please proceed to the evacuation point in an orderly manner.”
Chairs screeched. Phones buzzed. Panic rippled like lightning.
Outside, Arielle shielded her eyes from the sun as the crowd flooded into the lawn. She could hear children’s voices from the playground. A few worried mothers clutched their pearls, already imagining the headlines.
Then came the sound of a sleek engine.
A black Maybach pulled into the front drive, flanked by two armored SUVs.
Heads turned.
The car door opened.
Damien stepped out.
The murmurs turned to gasps.
He wasn’t just the richest man most of them had ever seen. He was their husbands’ competitor, their daughters’ dream, and their own envy incarnate.
But he wasn’t looking at them.
He walked through the crowd like a blade through mist—eyes fixed on one person.
Arielle.
The moment their eyes met, her body loosened with relief she hadn’t realized she needed. She tried to step forward, but he beat her to it.
Damien wrapped an arm around her waist with the kind of possessive intimacy that spoke volumes.
Then he kissed her temple.
Not for show.
But because he needed to.
“Sorry I’m late,” he murmured.
“Late for what?” she asked breathlessly.
He turned toward the sea of faces. “The message.”
Vivienne’s group stood slack-jawed. One of them dropped her handbag.
The principal rushed over. “Mr. Lancaster, we had no idea you’d be visiting—”
“I’m here as a father. Not a CEO.”
The principal stammered. “Yes, of course.”
He faced the crowd, his voice calm but commanding. “I was informed about the alarm. Naturally, I came immediately. My wife was here.”
The word wife echoed louder than the sirens.
“I trust the school’s security measures are sufficient?” Damien asked coolly.
The principal nodded frantically. “We’re reviewing them as we speak.”
He looked at the other parents. “Good. Because I expect nothing less than excellence—for our children.”
A beat of silence.
And then—slowly—Ella stepped forward. Then another mother. A few murmured agreements. The tide was turning.
Vivienne said nothing. Her smile had curdled.
Later, after the alarm was deemed a sensor malfunction and the meeting postponed, Damien and Arielle walked side by side back to her car.
She exhaled. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Yes, I did.”
She leaned against the door, watching him. “That stunt back there?”
He smirked. “You didn’t like it?”
“I loved it. But you basically told half the city’s elite that you’d burn their egos if they touched me.”
“I will.”
She laughed. “I don’t need rescuing.”
“I know. But I’m still allowed to walk into the fire with you.”
She reached for his hand. “Then don’t ever stop.”
He kissed her palm. “Never.”
And as they drove away, the school gates slowly closing behi
nd them, the world was left to whisper in stunned silence—not just about a scandal, but about a marriage no amount of gossip could fracture.