One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 91: Chapter 91

It began with a late night and two cups of coffee. Elijah had been fifteen. Too tall for his age, all arms and questions, his eyes so much like Damien’s it sometimes startled Arielle.
He had begged his father to take him to work.
“Just once,” Elijah had said. “I want to see what it’s like.”
And Damien—charmed and indulgent—had said yes.
They’d arrived at Haven Tower long after most lights had gone out. Damien’s office smelled of leather and sandalwood, and Elijah couldn’t stop touching everything. His fingers skimmed the glass awards, the gleaming paperweights, the sleek touchpad Damien used like an extension of himself.
Damien had laughed softly. “This is where decisions are made, son. The quiet ones that change everything.”
“Do you ever get scared?” Elijah asked.
“All the time,” Damien said. “But I don’t stop.”
That night, Damien gave Elijah a simple task: organize files from the most recent campaign launch. Elijah dove in with intensity, heart racing with the thrill of responsibility. By the time dawn hinted over the skyline, Damien looked at the finished work and smiled.
“You’ve got it in you,” he said. “The fire.”
Elijah beamed.
Now, years later, Elijah stood at the edge of his mother’s office, watching Arielle finish a call. She had aged in the way that battle-hardened generals do—still beautiful, still powerful, but etched with invisible scars.
She ended the call and looked up, smiling faintly. “You’re up early.”
“I never went to bed,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow. “Homework?”
“Something like that.”
He walked over, standing where he’d once seen his father stand. His mother’s desk was covered in reports, legal documents, and a single framed photo of the family at the beach—before everything fractured.
“You’re doing too much,” he said softly.
She exhaled. “There’s no one else to do it.”
“There’s me.”
Arielle’s face tightened. “You’re still young. This shouldn’t be your burden.”
He shook his head. “It’s already mine. I see it. I feel it. Every time you come home late, every time you pretend not to be exhausted. Every time you cry in the shower and think we can’t hear it.”
Her eyes filled but didn’t fall.
“I know what Dad would want,” Elijah said. “He’d want you to rest. And he’d want me to grow up fast enough to carry part of the weight.”
Arielle turned away, pretending to arrange papers. “He wouldn’t want you to lose your childhood over this.”
“Too late.”
She turned back to him, eyes sharp. “That’s not fair.”
“I know.”
They stared at each other. And something passed between them—an understanding forged in shared grief and quiet resilience.
That evening, Elijah took Iris and Jonah to the movies. He handled the tickets, the popcorn, the arguments over what seats to take. When Jonah fell asleep on his shoulder, he didn’t mind. He just adjusted and let the moment last.
Back home, he stayed up late researching law schools, finance, international business. He started taking notes.
Started building something of his own.
A path.
A future.
And in the quiet hours before dawn, he wrote a letter. He didn’t know why—maybe just to see the words on paper.
_“Dear Dad,
She’s doing everything. And she’s so tired. But she’s still here. We all are. I miss you more than I know how to say. I promise to look after her. I promise to look after all of them.”_
He tucked the letter into a journal and closed it.
Outside, the city pulsed like a heartbeat.
And inside, a boy quietly stepped into the role the world hadn’t meant to give him yet.