Chapter 9

Damien. She didn’t need to say it.
My voice turned cold. “Then he sees what he threw away.”
After we hung up, I stood at my window for a long time. Noah’s face floated in my mind—those ice-blue eyes that I saw every day, that reminded me every day of both my greatest love and my deepest betrayal.
He was Three now. Smart, funny, kind. Everything good in my life.
And he had no idea who his father was.
My assistant appeared in the doorway, with a tablet in hand. “Ms. Monroe? It’s 2 PM.”
I turned from the window, smoothing my suit. “Who is it?”
She glanced at her screen. “Ravenwood Business Summit coordination. The Blackwood meeting is confirmed for tomorrow.”
My pulse jumped, but my face stayed neutral. “Perfect.”
She hesitated, then continued. “They’re requesting a preliminary meet-and-greet tonight. Drinks at the Grand Hotel.”
“Decline.” I sat back at my desk, my tone final. “I don’t do social calls.”
“They were quite insistent” She ventured carefully.
“Decline,” I repeated, not looking up from my screen. “We’ll meet at the summit. On my terms.”
She nodded and left, understanding in her silence.
I pulled up Blackwood Enterprises’ latest financial reports. Studied Damien’s photo on the company website. Four years older now. Still devastatingly handsome but cold.
Still the man who threw me out pregnant.
My hands clenched into fists.
Let’s show them what they created,
The Ravenwood Grand Hotel was exactly as I remembered. Opulent. Excessive. Everything about it screamed old money and older power.
I walked through the marble lobby in a black. My heels clicked with authority. My assistant and two junior executives flanked me with their tablets ready.
Heads turned as they always did now.
The business summit was being held in the hotel’s largest conference center. Three hundred of Ravenwood’s most powerful players, all gathering to discuss market expansion, partnerships, hostile takeovers disguised as collaborations.
I’d been invited because Monroe Global couldn’t be ignored anymore. We were too big, too successful, too disruptive.
They had to let me in.
The irony was delicious.
The summit coordinator greeted me with an oily smile. “Ms. Monroe. Welcome to Ravenwood. Your presentation slot is at 2 PM in Conference Room B.”
I didn’t break stride. “Change it. I want the 3 PM slot at the main hall.”
His smile faltered. “That’s… that’s Mr. Blackwood’s slot.”
“Then we’ll go back-to-back.” I didn’t wait for his response, already walking past him. “Make it happen.”
I walked away, my team scrambling to keep up.
The morning sessions were dull. CEOs posturing, companies measuring each other, the usual corporate theater. I sat in the back, analyzing and planning.
At noon, I stepped out for air. The hotel’s rooftop garden was quiet, overlooking the Ravenwood skyline.
Blackwood Tower loomed in the distance.
I’d been in this city for six hours and hadn’t seen him yet. Part of me was relieved. Part of me was screaming with anticipation.
A voice came from behind me. “Aria Monroe?”
I turned. A woman in her fifties, perfectly styled, pearl necklace. Recognition flickered.
Mrs. Hartford. One of Eleanor’s society friends.
I kept my voice neutral. “Yes?”
Her eyes swept over me. “I thought that was you! My goodness, you look so different. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“That was the point,” I said smoothly, my smile razor-sharp.
She laughed, uncertain. “I heard you’d left town. Eleanor said you—well, never mind what Eleanor said. You’re obviously doing well for yourself.”
“I am.” I smiled, coldly. “Monroe Global. Perhaps you’ve heard of us?”
Her eyes widened with sudden understanding. “That’s your company? But I thought—the Monroe name.”
“Is mine. Not theirs.” I checked my watch, dismissing her. “If you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Hartford. I have a meeting to destroy.”
I left her gaping.
The afternoon session started at 2:30. I entered the main conference hall—massive, tiered seating, a stage with screens and podium. At least two hundred people already seated.
I took my place in the third row. Front enough to be visible and enough to observe.
The lights dimmed as the moderator took the stage.
His voice boomed through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, our next presenter needs no introduction. Blackwood Enterprises has led Ravenwood’s corporate sector for three decades. Please welcome CEO Damien Blackwood.”
My breath caught.
He walked on stage.
Four years. Four years since I’d seen him in person.
He looked the same. Taller than I remembered, or maybe I’d just felt so small back then. Dark suit, perfect. Hair styled, perfect. Face carved from marble, expressionless.
Those ice-blue eyes swept the audience.
And stopped on me.
I watched his entire body go rigid. Watched his eyes widen, just slightly. Watched him nearly miss a step.
I smiled slowly, curving my mouth in a smirk.
He recovered. Of course he did. Damien Blackwood was nothing if not controlled.
But I’d seen it. That moment of absolute shock.
Good.
He started his presentation, his voice steady. “Market analysis shows significant opportunities in the tech sector.”
Investment opportunities. Expansion plans. His voice was steady and professional, but his eyes kept finding me in the crowd.
I leaned back in my seat, crossed my legs, and watched him like a hawk.
When he stumbled over a word—something about quarterly projections—satisfaction hummed through me.
I was in his head. I was under his skin.
The presentation ended to polite applause. Damien left the stage quickly, his jaw tight.
The moderator returned to the microphone. “And now, representing Monroe Global, CEO Aria Monroe.”
I stood. Every eye in the room followed me as I walked down the aisle and up onto the stage.
The podium felt powerful beneath my hands. The audience was silent, attentive.
I smiled.
“Good afternoon.” My voice carried confidence, power. “My name is Aria Monroe, and Monroe Global is about to change everything you think you know about this market.”
My presentation was flawless. Sharp. Aggressive. I laid out our expansion plans with intensity, naming competitors, identifying weaknesses, and promising results.
Halfway through, I saw him. Damien, standing at the back of the hall. Watching.
Our eyes locked.
I continued without missing a beat. “Monroe Global believes in transformation. We believe that what’s discarded, abandoned, thrown away” I paused, holding his gaze, my voice dropping lower, “can become more powerful than anything that tried to destroy it.”
His face went pale.
The presentation ended to stunned silence, then thunderous applause.
I walked off stage, my heart pounding.
As I reached the exit, a hand caught my arm.
I turned.
Damien stood there, close enough that I could smell his cologne. Close enough to see the shadows under his eyes.
His voice cracked on my name. “Aria?”
I looked at his hand on my arm, then up at his face. Every emotion I’d buried for four years threatened to surface.
But I’d spent too long building this armor.
I smiled, cold and distant. “I think you have me confused with someone else, Mr. Blackwood.”