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"Every scar, every wound you carry, I carry twice over in my soul. You're cloaked in my shadows, Isabella, protected by my very being. Don't ever doubt that. Are you sure you’re fine?” I ask again.
She gives me another small smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”
I turn to the doctor with a low and commanding tone. "We need a moment."
My eyes hold a hard edge that brooks no argument. The doctor nods in understanding. Perhaps it's professionalism or the palpable intensity I exude that sways her, but she doesn't hesitate to leave. As the door clicks shut, I'm left alone with Isabella, and the silence enveloping us clashes with the chaos of my raging thoughts. Isabella's gaze catches mine with concern etched in her features despite her own ordeal.
"How's Seraphina?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
"She's fine," I reassure her, feeling my body tense with the memory of the chaos. "After the shootout, I had Victor escort her home. She's safe, Bella," I tell her.
We sit here in silence, and I feel the chasm of my thoughts besieged with a madness of emotions. The news of her pregnancy lingers in the air between us, an invisible, seismic force that both terrifies and exhilarates me. I've never considered fatherhood. My life is filled with danger, and trust has always been a currency too expensive for me to deal out freely, especially to the women I've known.
But Isabella is irrevocably different. I’m falling for her, deeper each day, entangled in her strength and her spirit, envisioning a future I never dared to contemplate. Kids. With her, it doesn't just feel possible. It feels right. There's no room for doubt, not even a whisper, that she would be anything less than an incredible mother.
"So, I take it you know," her voice interrupts my thoughts, her tone soft but pointed. "If your silence is anything to go by." I can't help the way my eyes flit away momentarily, caught off-guard by her perceptiveness.
"Yes, the doctor told me," I admit, my voice betraying a fraction of the awe that's swelling in my chest. The room feels charged now, electric with the revelation that we're going to be parents. Despite the world's weight on my shoulders and the danger that lurks in the shadows, this single truth shines like a beacon. Our unexpected yet fiercely welcome light in the darkness.
"I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn’t think about birth control because I was celibate with Jackson. Then you happened, and celibacy went out the window,” she says tearfully, her voice a soft echo in the sterile room. "You must feel trapped now."
Picking up her hand, I bring it to my lips, kissing the back of it gently, trying to imbed strength through my touch.
"I feel anything but trapped, Bella," I tell her earnestly, locking my eyes with hers so she sees the truth in them.
"Now, what am I going to do," she murmurs, more to herself than to me. She's gazing at the ceiling, eyes glazed with the turmoil of our situation.
I know the question isn't meant for me, but I answer anyway.
"We'll get married," I say matter-of-factly as if it's the most obvious next step. "I'll have a priest waiting when we get home. My mother and sisters will be there too," I continue, already mapping out the future, making her a promise I intend to keep.
Her eyes widen as though I've just suggested we fly to the moon for lunch. She stares at me, and incredulity etches into every feature of her beautiful face. "Damien, have you lost your damn mind? We don't need to get married."
"But we do," I insist, my voice firm. "I won't have my child born a bastard. It's not just a label. It's about respect. Protection."
She scoffs while brushing a stray lock of hair from her face with a shaky hand. "It's not the 1950s. A marriage certificate is just a piece of paper. Our child will be loved and cared for. Married or not."
My jaw sets. I lean closer before lowering my voice. "As my wife, as a Blackhart, no one would dare to raise a hand against you. Everyone would know you're mine."
"Damien, Iwasa Blackhart, and we've seen how much that mattered," she snaps, her eyes flashing with the remembered pain of today's events.
"That was before you belonged tome. Before I made it clear how much you matter to me." My conviction pours into each word. We're two sides of the same coin, fierce in our stances, but I need her to see reason.
We go back and forth, our argument a fiery dance of stubborn wills. It's not just stubbornness that drives me. It's a raging need to keep her safe, to make her understand that this is the best way to protect her, our child, and our future. Eventually, her resistance begins to wane as she realizes the depth of my concern.
"Okay, Damien," she finally murmurs, her voice barely audible, a surrender that feels more like a victory for both of us. "We'll do it your way."
She doesn't say it with defeat but with a quiet strength that only she possesses, and I know we'll be okay. We're going to face this, united as one.
I don't wait for another second. As soon as her agreement hangs in the air, I step out of the room. Pulling out my phone, I dial quickly, my fingers steady despite the adrenaline that pumps through my veins.
"Get a priest to my house. Within two hours,” I bark the order into the phone to one of my men who knows better than to ask questions.
Next, I call my mother and sister. "Be at my house in an hour,” I tell them, my voice leaving no room for debate. "It's important."
I don't wait for their response, their confusion, or their questions. I just end the call. I can explain later once all the pieces are in place. Right now, I need to act. To make sure nothing can stand in the way of securing my family's future.
I punch Victor's number into my phone. "Leave Daniel with just two guards," I command as soon as he answers. "Only give him water, nothing else."
