He Saved His Mistress's Son and Let Our Daughter Burn

Chloe's POV

Everyone in New York's underworld knew the story.

Damien Khoury, the man who ran the Khoury family with an iron fist, had lost his mind over a woman. He'd shut down an entire airport, called in every favor across three boroughs, deployed his whole network just to drag back the wife who'd vanished five years ago.

Me.

After forcing me to remarry him, he tried everything. Jewelry showed up in my bedroom by the boxful. He filled the estate garden with Louis XIV roses because I'd once mentioned they were my favorite.

I ripped up his letters. Gave the necklaces to the maids. Set the roses on fire.

He walked into my room at noon, still in his tailored suit, looking like he'd stepped off the cover of some magazine. Sharp jaw, cold eyes, the kind of face people couldn't stop staring at.

His hand closed around my throat.

"How long are you gonna keep this up?" His grip was brutal, but his voice cracked. "Five years, Chloe. You still hate me that much?"

I laughed. Tears ran down my face and I laughed.

"Rosie's been dead for five years," I said. "How could I not?"

His whole body went rigid.

Five years ago, two children were taken to an abandoned pier on the waterfront. The kidnappers strapped bombs to them and locked each one inside a steel security cage, the kind built to protect bank vaults. Military-grade locks. Timed detonators.

Then they made Damien choose.

He grabbed my hand so hard my bones ached. His eyes were red. "Chloe, you're the best vault specialist in the country. Get the boy out first."

I looked at the two cages on opposite ends of the pier. The girl's timer was running faster.

"The girl's countdown is shorter. I should go to her first."

A woman dropped to her knees in front of me. Serena Sullivan, pretty face streaked with tears, voice shaking. "Mrs. Khoury, please. I can't lose my son."

I'd seen her in Damien's photos. His childhood sweetheart. The one he'd grown up next door to, the one he said he'd let go years ago.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I looked at Damien.

"He's my son." His voice was raw. "I just found out recently. I'll explain everything later, I swear. But save him first."

I stepped back. "It doesn't matter who he is. The girl's timer is shorter. That's the protocol."

Damien pulled a knife and pressed it to his own throat.

I stopped breathing.

"Save the boy," he said. "Or I'll die right here in front of you."

I didn't move.

He pushed the blade in. Blood ran down his neck.

"Don't!" I lunged forward, knocked the knife out of his hand.

I gave in.

I ran to the boy's cage. My hands moved on autopilot, picking the lock mechanism apart, disarming the trigger. The lock clicked open. The timer stopped.

The kidnapper started laughing.

"How does it feel, Damien? Choosing between your own children? I want you to live in that hell forever."

Both children?

Both his?

I spun around.

The kidnapper ripped the hood off the girl.

Rosie.

My Rosie. Five years old, tiny in her pink jacket, eyes wide and confused. She looked at me and her mouth moved.

"Mommy?"

The explosion swallowed everything.

Fire. Heat. Then nothing.

I disappeared after that. Left the city, left him, left everything behind. Damien searched for me for five years. Now he'd found me, dragged me back, and was standing in my room begging.

He let go of my throat. His hands were shaking.

"Rosie isn't coming back, but we can have more children. Forgive me. Please?"

The most powerful man in New York, and all he could do was beg.

Something shifted in my expression. I didn't say yes. But I didn't say no the way I had every time before.

His eyes lit up like a man who'd been drowning and just broke the surface.

"I knew it. I knew you still cared about me." He was almost tripping over his words. "Stay here, okay? Don't move. I'm gonna get you the cake you love."

He practically ran out of the room.

I wiped my eyes. Picked up my car keys. Followed him.

I watched him cut through two blocks, walk into a renovated brownstone, and wrap his arms around the woman who opened the door.

Serena!

"Relax," he murmured, stroking her hair. "Chloe's forgiven you. She won't come after you anymore."

Serena leaned into him, eyes soft with affection. Her voice dipped low, playing wounded. "I owe her a life. Whatever she wants from me, I deserve it. I just feel sorry for Leo. He'll always be the child with no name, no status."

Damien's expression softened. He pulled her closer. "You know my wife can only be Chloe. But I won't let you and Leo suffer."

"Leo will be my only son. When I'm gone, he inherits everything."

I stood outside that door and felt nothing.

No. That's not true. I felt cold. Bone-deep cold, the kind that doesn't go away.

So much for putting Serena in prison.

So much for having more children together.

I should've stopped hoping a long time ago.

Back at the estate, I dialed a number.

"He found me." My voice was steady. "Maybe the only way he'll ever let go is if I'm dead."

"I need you to stage a death for me. One month from now."

I hung up. My eyes burned, but the tears were done.

Damien. Watch me die right in front of you.

I wonder if you'll feel even a shred of guilt.