CHAPTER 2: The Man They Thought Was a Myth
CHAPTER 2: The Man They Thought Was a Myth
The ballroom fell silent.
Not the polite silence of wealthy people waiting for someone important to speak.
The kind of silence that arrives when fear enters a room before a single word is spoken.
Damien Rowe walked through the shattered doors without hurrying.
He wore a charcoal suit beneath a long black overcoat, untouched by the rain outside. A thin scar crossed his left temple—one the newspapers had never mentioned because, according to every headline seven months earlier, Damien Rowe had died in Chicago.
Behind him came a dozen men in tailored black suits.
No one carried a visible weapon.
They didn't need to.
Their discipline told the story.
Damien's eyes never wandered around the ballroom.
They found Maren immediately.
She was still curled on the marble floor, one trembling hand wrapped around her stomach.
Blood stained the edge of her gray uniform.
For the first time in years, Damien looked frightened.
"Maren."
His voice was barely above a whisper.
He crossed the room in seconds, dropping to his knees beside her.
His expensive coat spread across the polished floor without hesitation.
He gently brushed damp strands of hair from her face.
"I'm here."
Maren blinked through tears.
"I thought... you were dead."
"So did my enemies."
He carefully placed one hand against her swollen belly.
The baby kicked.
His expression broke.
"Our child?"
She nodded weakly.
"I wanted to tell you..."
Damien closed his eyes for one painful moment.
"You never had the chance."
The room watched in complete disbelief.
The billionaire families who had laughed only moments earlier suddenly realized the pregnant janitor was not alone.
She had never been alone.
Damien slowly stood.
His calm frightened everyone far more than anger would have.
"Who touched her?"
No one answered.
Then one of Chloe's classmates quietly pointed.
"She did."
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Every eye turned toward Chloe Ashford.
For the first time in her life, she looked genuinely afraid.
