Chapter 110 You’re the best gift the Moon Goddess sent me
Aria’s POV
I hesitated, swirling the pink liquid in my glass. The overheard phone call felt too raw, too humiliating to share.
But Damian was watching me with those impossibly perceptive eyes, and somehow the words started spilling out.
"I visited Grandma Rose at the hospital," I said, keeping my voice level. "Ran into Margaret and Sophie. The usual drama."
Damian’s eyes narrowed. "They upset you."
It wasn’t a question.
"They tried." I managed a tight smile. "But I handled it."
"And Ethan?"
My smile faltered. Of course he’d guessed Ethan had been there too.
"He showed up after I’d already called the police on Marcus," I said. "The kid took a steel rod to my new Bentley. Five hundred thousand in damages."
Damian’s expression went completely still. Dangerously still.
"He vandalized your car."
"Destroyed it, more like." I pulled out my phone and showed him the dashcam footage. "Ethan paid the damages, but I didn’t drop the police report. Marcus has an official warning on his record now."
Damian watched the video in silence, his jaw working.
When Marcus delivered that final kick to the car’s door panel, something dark flickered across Damian’s face—something cold and predatory that made my breath hitch.
"That child needs to be disciplined," he said softly. Too softly. "And his father needs to be taught that there are consequences for raising a brat."
I should probably tell him not to do anything rash. That despite everything, Marcus was still just a three-year-old kid who didn’t know any better.
But I was so tired of being the one who always took the high road. So tired of making excuses for people who hurt me without a second thought.
"The Holt family group chat is having a meltdown over it," I said instead. "I posted the video there too. Let them all see what their precious Marcus is really like."
A ghost of a smile touched Damian’s lips. "Good."
Despite everything—despite the exhaustion and hurt and anger churning inside me—I felt myself smile back. There was something darkly satisfying about having someone on my side for once.
Someone who didn’t immediately tell me to be understanding, to let it go, to think about the family’s reputation.
"Tell me the rest," Damian said quietly.
I took another sip of my drink, letting the sweetness coat my tongue before I answered.
"I accidentally overheard Grandma Rose talking to Margaret," I said finally. "She didn’t know I was on the line. I heard... everything."
Damian set down his glass. "What did you hear?"
"That she’s always known about Clara. About Ethan’s affair." My voice came out flat, emotionless. Safer that way.
"She knew from the beginning that I was just a placeholder. She kept me around because I was useful to the family business. That’s all I ever was to them—a tool."
The kitchen went very quiet.
When I finally looked up, Damian’s expression made my heart stutter.
The fury in his eyes was barely leashed. His jaw was clenched so tightly I could see the muscle jumping.
His hands flexed at his sides like he was physically restraining himself from punching something.
"Look at me," he said softly.
I did. And immediately regretted it.
"They don’t deserve you," he said, each word precise and deliberate.
"None of them do. Not Ethan, not his wretched family, and certainly not that manipulative old woman who pretended to care while using you."
I swallowed hard. "It’s fine. I should have realized sooner—"
"It’s not fine." His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing along my cheekbone with devastating gentleness. "And you have every right to be angry. Hurt. Furious. Don’t you dare minimize what they did to you."
Something cracked inside my chest. The tears I’d been holding back all evening suddenly threatened to spill over.
"I thought she actually cared," I whispered. "I know that’s stupid, but I really thought Grandma Rose was different. That she saw me as more than just—"
"It’s not stupid." Damian’s other hand came up to frame my face, his touch impossibly tender. "It’s human. You wanted family. You wanted to belong somewhere. There’s nothing wrong with that."
The first tear escaped, sliding hot down my cheek.
Damian caught it with his thumb. "They’re the ones who failed you, Aria. Not the other way around."
And just like that, the dam broke.
I didn’t sob or wail or fall apart dramatically. The tears just came, quiet and relentless, as two years’ worth of suppressed hurt finally broke free.
Damian pulled me into his arms without hesitation. One hand cradled the back of my head while the other wrapped firmly around my waist, holding me against his chest like I was something precious.
His scent surrounded me—cedar and lavender and something uniquely him. Strong. Safe. Real.
"Let it out," he murmured against my hair. "I’ve got you."
So I did.
I cried for the girl who’d believed Ethan’s lies. For the woman who’d worked herself to exhaustion trying to earn approval that was never coming. For every moment of humiliation, every casual cruelty, every time I’d swallowed my pride and smiled through the pain because I thought that’s what family required.
And through it all, Damian held me. Steady. Unshakable. Like an anchor in the storm.
When the tears finally slowed, I became acutely aware of how tightly I was clutching his shirt, how my face was pressed against his chest, how his heartbeat thundered beneath my ear.
Embarrassment flooded through me. I pulled back slightly, trying to put some distance between us.
"Sorry," I mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. "I didn’t mean to fall apart like that—"
But Damian didn’t let me retreat far. Then did something that made my heart stop.
He leaned in and pressed his lips to where the tear had been, kissing it away with such gentleness that I couldn’t breathe.
"Promise me something," he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with emotion. "Don’t cry for people who don’t deserve you. Not anymore. You’re my Queen, Aria. And your tears are pearls—too precious to waste on them."
A shaky laugh escaped me despite everything. "I’m not the Little Mermaid, Damian."
His lips curved into a smile against my temple. "No. You’re something far more precious."
He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, his gray-black gaze intense and unwavering. "You’re the best gift the Moon Goddess sent me."
My breath caught. The way he looked at me—like I was something sacred, something worth protecting—it made my chest ache in an entirely different way.
No one had ever looked at me like that before. Like I mattered. Like I was enough, exactly as I was.
"Damian..." My voice came out barely above a whisper.
He cupped my face in both hands, thumbs brushing across my cheekbones with achingly gentle strokes. "I mean it, Aria. Every word."
Something cracked open inside my chest.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. Couldn’t find words adequate enough for what I was feeling. So instead, I did the only thing that made sense.
I leaned into his touch, letting my forehead rest against his, and for the first time in what felt like years, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—I deserved this kind of care.