The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir-Chapter 142: The Love Confession

Aria’s POV – Few Days Later

"Mama, are you nervous?" Noah asked, watching me stare at my reflection in the mirror.

"A little," I admitted. "Daddy and I are having an important talk tonight."

"About the wedding?" He bounced on my bed. "Are you gonna pick the dinosaur cake? Please say dinosaur cake."

"We’ll discuss cake later, baby." I smiled despite my nerves. "Right now, Olivia’s coming to have a sleepover with you so Daddy and I can have grown-up time."

"Ooh, fun!" Noah jumped down. "Aunt Liv lets me stay up late and eat ice cream!"

"Does she now?" I raised an eyebrow, filing that information away.

The truth was, Damien and I had barely had time alone since the proposal. Between Noah’s excitement, work obligations, and the lingering aftermath of everything with Marcus and Vivian, we’d been operating in survival mode.

But tonight—tonight we needed to really talk. Not about logistics or safety or wedding planning. About us. About the confession Damien had made at the hospital that we hadn’t fully addressed.

"I loved you during our relationship, I was just too broken to see it."

Those words had been haunting me for days. Not in a bad way—in a way that demanded examination. Understanding. Closure for both of us.

Olivia arrived right on time, arms full of snacks and movies.

"Alright, little man." She high-fived Noah. "Tonight we’re watching dinosaur documentaries and making a volcano out of baking soda. Your mom is going to have a romantic evening with your dad and absolutely not worry about us."

"Liv" I started.

"Nope." She pointed at me. "You and Damien have been dancing around actually talking about your feelings for weeks. Tonight, you talk. Get all the messy emotions out. I’ve got Noah."

"Thank you." I hugged her. "Seriously."

"That’s what best friends are for." She squeezed back. "Now go. Your emotionally constipated fiancé is waiting on the roof with what I’m told is a ’romantic setup.’ His words, not mine."

The roof. I took the elevator up, heart pounding. The rooftop garden had always been beautiful, but tonight it was transformed. String lights hung overhead, candles flickered on every surface, and a small table was set with dinner from our favorite Italian restaurant.

And Damien

He stood by the railing in dark slacks and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up, looking nervous and hopeful and so handsome it hurt.

"Hi," I said softly, stepping onto the roof.

"Hi." He turned, and the look on his face made my breath catch. "You came."

"Did you think I wouldn’t?"

"I wasn’t sure." He moved toward me. "Aria, we need to talk about everything I said at the hospital, about" He stopped. "About our first marriage. About what I felt then versus what I feel now. About all of it."

"I know." I closed the distance between us. "That’s why I’m here."

He led me to the table, pulled out my chair like a gentleman, and poured us both wine with slightly shaking hands.

"You’re nervous," I observed.

"Terrified," he admitted. "Because what I need to tell you—what I need you to understand—it’s going to dredge up the past. The painful parts. And I’m scared that talking about it will break what we’ve built now."

"It won’t." I reached across the table for his hand. "Damien, we can’t move forward if we don’t address what happened. The real truth about our first marriage. Not the version I believed or the version you told yourself. The actual truth."

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Then let me start from the beginning. From the day you walked into my office with that marriage contract."

Damien’s POV

The memory was crystal clear, even years later. Aria had walked into my office wearing a simple dress, her hair pulled back, carrying a folder of documents. She’d been nervous—I could see it in the way her hands trembled slightly, the way she kept swallowing.

"Mr. Blackwood," she’d said, her voice steady despite the nerves. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Your father was quite insistent about this meeting." I’d leaned back in my chair, already bored. Another gold-digger, another scheme. "Let’s get this over with. What does Charles Monroe want?"

"He wants me to marry you." She said and I’d appreciated that. "In exchange for business concessions and capital injection into Blackwood Enterprises."

"And you’re agreeable to this?" I’d studied her, looking for the angle. "Marrying a man you’ve never met for your father’s financial gain?"

"I don’t have much choice." She’d met my eyes, and something in her gaze had made me pause. Resignation, yes. But also dignity. Pride. "My family needs this. And I—" She’d stopped. "I’ll make the best of it."

I should have seen it then. Should have recognized the strength in her acceptance, the grace in her surrender. But I was too damaged, too convinced that everyone had ulterior motives.

"Fine." I’d signed the contract without reading her added clauses. "We’ll marry next six month, my assistant will handle the details."

She’d stood to leave, then paused. "Mr. Blackwood? I know this is just a business arrangement. But I’d like." Her voice had softened. "I’d like us to at least try to be civil. Maybe even friends?"

And I’d looked at this beautiful, hopeful, genuine woman and said: "I don’t need friends, Ms. Monroe. I need a wife on paper. Nothing more."

The hurt in her eyes had been instantaneous. But she’d nodded, collected her documents, and left without another word. That should have been the end of it. A simple business transaction.

Except

Damien’s POV – Continuing

"I noticed you immediately," I told Aria now, watching her face in the candlelight. "From that very first meeting. How could I not? You were beautiful, yes. But it was more than that. You were—real. Genuine. In a world full of people wearing masks, you were just—you."

"I didn’t feel real." Aria’s voice was quiet. "I felt like a commodity being sold."

"I know." Guilt twisted in my chest. "And I treated you like one. Because Aria, the truth is—I was attracted to you from day one. And that terrified me."

"Why?" She leaned forward. "Why would attraction terrify you?"

"Because of my father." I took a long drink of wine, needing courage. "He used to say that love makes men weak. That caring about anyone gives them power over you. And he proved it with my mother—loving him destroyed her. Killed her. So I learned early that caring meant vulnerability. And vulnerability meant death."

"So when you felt attracted to me"

"I panicked." I met her eyes. "You made me feel things I’d spent my entire life suppressing. Want. Curiosity. Tenderness. And I—" My voice cracked. "I didn’t know how to handle it. So I pushed you away. Kept you at arm’s length. Convinced myself you were just another gold-digger like Vivian claimed."

"But I wasn’t." Aria’s voice held old hurt. "I tried so hard, Damien. To connect with you. To build something. I wore the clothes you liked, learned about your business, tried to be interesting."

"You were already interesting." I cut her off. "That was the problem. You were fascinating. I’d catch myself watching you read in the library, wondering what you were thinking. Or I’d see you smile at something on your phone and want to know what made you happy. And every time I felt that curiosity, that pull toward you, I’d shut it down. Remind myself that caring was weakness."

"So you ignored me instead." She pulled her hand back. "Made me feel invisible."

"Yes." I wouldn’t insult her with excuses. "And Aria, I’m not asking you to understand or forgive that version of me. I’m just—I need you to know the truth. That I was falling for you during our relationship. Slowly, terrifyingly. And instead of being brave enough to acknowledge it, I let Vivian poison me against you."

"The fake audio recordings." Aria’s jaw tightened. "The lies about me cheating."

"I wanted to believe them." The admission hurt to make. "Because if you were the villain, if you were using me, then what I felt for you wasn’t real. It was just me being manipulated. That was easier than admitting I was falling in love with my contract wife."

"You loved me?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "Then? Really?"

"I did." I stood, moving around the table to kneel beside her chair. "I loved the way you hummed. The way you’d curl up with a book and get so absorbed you’d forget about your surroundings. I loved—" My voice broke. "I loved everything about you. And it scared me so badly I destroyed us rather than admit it."

Tears streamed down her face. "Then why? Why did you say those horrible things? Why did you tell me to get rid of the baby?"

"Because Vivian showed me that fake audio days before." I took her hands. "She played it for me, told me you’d been planning to fool me, that you’d been laughing about how easy I was to manipulate. And I—" Shame flooded through me. "I wanted to believe her. Because if you were manipulating me, then I hadn’t fallen in love. I’d just been played. That was easier than facing the truth."

"You destroyed me first," Aria finished. "Better to hurt me before I could hurt you."