Chapter Fifty-Four

I blink up at Matt, still too stunned to speak as he helps me to my feet.

“Matt? Oh my god! What are you doing here? How have you been?”

His hands remain on my arms as I find my balance. “Leave it to you to ask about me when you’re the one bleeding,” he says, his smile tired.

I glance down at the scrapes on my knees and palms, only now noticing the sting. “It’s nothing,” I wave it off. “But seriously, why did you stop emailing me? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? I even had Vicky call Laura to figure out where you were! That’s how I found out you were in London, and—”

“Whoa, whoa,” he interrupts, holding his hands up in mock surrender, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It’s charming, but not in the way it used to be. It’s dimmed. “Let’s get you fixed up first, then we’ll catch up. I’ll take you to see a doctor.”

“No need, I stay nearby…” I say then remember where I was headed. “Really, I’m fine, and I’m kind of in a rush.”

“River,” he says, his tone firm now. His gaze drops to my bloodied legs. “Your skirt is torn, and you’re hurt. Whatever you’re rushing to can wait. You need to clean those wounds before they get worse. Come on, let me drive you home.”

I hesitate, glancing in the direction I’d been headed but Matt’s right. Showing up like this would only make Damian furious. Reluctantly, I follow him to the car and let him take me back to the cottage.

Matt leads me back to the cottage, his arm supporting me as I hobble alongside him.

The moment Mrs. Hawthorne opens the door, her eyes widen at the sight of me.

“Good heavens, child! What have you done to yourself now?” she exclaims, her gaze darting between my torn skirt and bloodied hands.

“It’s not as bad as it looks—” I start, but her stern glare cuts me off.

“She tripped,” Matt says quickly, stepping in. “But nothing too serious.”

“Tripped?” she echoes, her tone sharp. Her eyes shift to Matt, who is standing protectively by my side. “And who’s this?”

“This is Matt,” I explain, brushing my hair out of my face. “He’s a friend. We bumped into each other by chance.”

Her attention shifts back to me. “And what were you doing wandering out alone? Don’t tell me you were sneaking off to see Damian!”

Heat rises to my cheeks as I fumble for a response, but Matt speaks before I can.

“She just needed some fresh air,” he says smoothly.

Mrs. Hawthorne huffs, crossing her arms. “Fresh air, my foot. Now don’t stand there. Get inside.”

She steps back to let us in, muttering something under her breath about reckless behavior. Matt helps me to a chair in the sitting room while Mrs. Hawthorne bustles off to find the first aid kit.

“You didn’t have to lie for me,” I murmur as he kneels to inspect the scrapes on my knees.

He glances up, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Seemed like you could use the backup.”

Mrs. Hawthorne returns moments later, setting the first aid kit down with a loud thud. “Let’s see how bad it is.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Matt offers.

Mrs. Hawthorne gives him a once-over. “Fine, but don’t botch it up. I’ll get tea.”

She leaves the room, grumbling softly to herself, and Matt turns back to me with a small chuckle.

“She’s quite the character,” he says, carefully dabbing at the scrapes with a damp cloth.

“She means well,” I say, smiling.

“This might sting,” he warns gently.

I wince but stay still, watching as he works with careful precision.

“You’re good at this,” I murmur.

He glances up and winks. “Lots of practice.”

He then excuses himself. By the time Mrs. Hawthorne returns with a tea tray, Matt has charmed her completely. Her earlier irritation has melted away, and she even offers him a smile as she sets the tray down.

“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing you were there,” she says, begrudgingly. “Though I still don’t approve of her sneaking off.”

I keep my eyes on the teacup in my hands, avoiding her pointed look.

Later, Matt and I sit on the bench in the back garden. “So,” I ask softly, “how are you, Matt?”

“Miserable,” he says, his voice low and honest. “My mother... she passed away a couple of months ago.”

“Oh, Matt.” My heart clenches. “I’m so sorry.”

He nods, swallowing hard. “It’s... it’s been a lot.”

“Is that why you flew to London?” I ask gently.

He shakes his head. “No. I flew to London to get some space. While I was there, I got a call from the institution where she was staying—her health had declined. She passed in her sleep.”

I place a hand on his arm. “That must’ve been so hard.”

Matt doesn’t answer right away. He just stares ahead for a moment. “We weren’t close… but she was my only family.”

I hear the pain in his voice and squeeze his arm. But then he sighs, like he’s pushing it all away, and turns toward me. “Anyway,” he says, his tone shifting, “you asked me what I was doing here. I came to see you.”

“Me?” I blink in surprise.

“Yeah,” he says with a soft smile. “I called Vicky. She told me you left L.A. without telling anyone. In the middle of the night…”

“Foolishly,” I finish for him with a small wry smile.

But his expression turns serious. “I thought it was brave.”

His words make me pause, caught off guard. “Brave?”

“Staying in a toxic relationship is hard, River. But leaving it? That takes real courage. You took that step. And I admire that. I just wish I’d been there for you.”

His sincerity hits me. It’s strange, hearing someone speak about my actions like they were worth something. Like he understands me. I smile, touched by his words. “Thank you, Matt. But how did you know where to find me?”

Matt shrugs. “I read in the papers that Damian was spotted here. It didn’t make sense at first, but I figured it out. He’d found you. So… here I am.” He pauses, his expression growing more serious. “River,” he says, his voice dropping, “remember when you told me to look into your father?”

I nod slowly.

“I have bad news.”

“I know about his bankruptcy,” I tell him. “And the hostile takeover.”

“So you know Damian is the one who did it.”

I exhale slowly. “I do.”

Matt runs a hand through his hair, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. He takes a deep breath, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “But that’s not all, River. There’s… something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m not sure how you’ll take it, but it’s something you need to know.”

A sense of foreboding settles over me. “What is it?” I ask, my stomach dropping.

He hesitates, and for a moment, I can see the struggle written all over his face. His gaze drops to the floor, like he’s trying to pull himself together.

“Matt?” I ask, my heart beginning to race.

“I—” He shakes his head, as if trying to shake off the weight of whatever it is he’s about to say. But then his eyes lock onto mine, dark and vulnerable. “It’s about your father.”

“Is he…? Did something happen…?” I ask quietly.

“No, no,” he rushes to say. “It’s not that.” His voice uneven, the effort to hold himself together apparent. “But I—”

I watch him struggle. He’s not looking at me now, staring instead at his shoes, as if searching for the right words. “My mother… she worked for him,” Matt continues, his voice strained. “She was his personal assistant. About twenty-four years ago.”

I’m stunned into silence, the news catching me off guard. “Okay… but why are you so tensed?”

He curses under his breath and stands, his chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. “I thought I could get through this without having a panic attack…”

I rise to my feet, wincing at the ache in my knees, and instinctively reach for his arm. “Matt, you’re sweating. What’s going on?”

He shakes his head, refusing to meet my gaze, and starts pacing, his movements erratic. My concern sharpens. I turn and rush inside, grabbing a bottle of water, before rushing back out.

I walk over and gently guide him back to the bench. “Here,” I say, unscrewing the cap and pressing the bottle into his hands.

He takes it with trembling fingers, the bottle nearly slipping from his grip as he drains half of it in one go.

I sit beside him, waiting for his breathing to slow, giving him the space he needs.

Once he finally seems calmer, I speak up. “You don’t have to talk if it’s this hard. You’re sweating through your shirt, Matt. You’re trembling. You’re not okay, and I can see it. Whatever it is... I don’t have to know.”

“You have to.” He exhales, his breath ragged as he leans back, eyes closing for a brief moment. Almost as if the words are fighting to get out, he blurts, “I witnessed a murder.”

I freeze, the blood draining from my face. “What?”

He nods, his lips pressed tight as if he’s trying to keep the tremor in his voice under control. “I don’t know where to start... my mother, she was a single parent, working for your father. It was a demanding job. She worked long hours. So she used to take me with her sometimes.”

I can’t move, can’t speak, my stomach churning.

“The building had an on-site childcare facility, a safe place for kids of single parent employees. I spent a lot of time there, three days a week or more. But I was a mischievous seven-year-old,” he adds, a bitter smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I’d sneak off, explore the building. One day… I snuck into your father’s office.”

A chill runs down my spine. The ground beneath me feels like it’s crumbling away.

“I was in the connecting conference room next door. It had a one-way mirror. I could see into your father’s office, but they couldn’t see me.”

I can’t breathe. My heart thuds painfully in my chest, knowing where this is going.

“I saw two men enter first. William Thompson and Richard McAllister. I didn’t recognize them back then. I was just a kid. It wasn’t until much later, when I started digging into your father, that I pieced it together.”

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “You didn’t know who they were up until now?”

“Not even your father. If I had, everything would’ve clicked the moment you said his name at the community center.” His expression darkens. “After those two, two more men came in. One of them was in a plaid shirt and jeans. The other… was your father.”

It feels surreal, like some cruel twist of fate. Matt—Matt, the friend I made at the center, the one who offered me kindness, friendship and warmth when I needed it most—is the key witness to Damian’s father’s murder. The realization crashes into me, knocking the air from my lungs. I feel the bile rise in my throat, my knees weakening.

He keeps going, his voice quieter now. “Your father took the couch. Thompson and McAllister sat across from him. But they didn’t offer a seat to the man in the plaid shirt.” He hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “The guy had this thick file with him. He was flipping through it, talking nonstop, trying to explain something. Your father and the others were listening carefully, watching him like hawks.”

Matt pauses. “I remember being so frustrated. I was hungry, bored, and tired. I wanted to leave, but I knew if I interrupted, my mom would lose her job, and we’d both be in trouble. So, I did the only thing I could—I laid down on the floor and fell asleep.”

Matt suddenly stands, pacing in front of the bench. He rubs his hands over his face, his breathing uneven.

“What happened then?” I whisper.

He stops and stares at the ground, his hands clenched into fists. “I woke up to a gunshot.”

My heart stops.

“The man in the plaid shirt was clutching his arm, blood pouring between his fingers. His face… God, he looked so scared, like a trapped animal. He was looking around the room, desperate for a way out.”

I screw my eyes shut but the image he painted in my head refuses to fade.

“Richard was standing by the door, blocking it. He wasn’t just guarding it—he was smirking, like he was enjoying it. The man tried to say something, pleading with them, tears streaming down his face. But none of them cared. None of them said a word.”

Matt’s voice falters, and he looks away. “Then William shot him again. Twice. Right in the chest.” He stops pacing and grips the back of the bench, his knuckles white. “The man collapsed onto the floor. Right on the file he’d brought… blood and papers everywhere. And your father?” His eyes are filled with disgust. “He just sat there, sipping his whiskey like nothing was happening. Like it was a normal day at the office.”

I feel nauseous, the air around me suffocating.

“I was so scared, River,” Matt whispers, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t move, couldn’t scream. I just froze. I was a kid, hiding in a room, watching a man get murdered. It was too much. I blacked out.”

My father. No, not my father. Christopher Gibson did this. He didn’t just witness it. He orchestrated it. He was the mastermind. He commanded it, oversaw it, and allowed it to happen in the very space where I once thought decisions were made to build, not destroy.

The man I trusted with every ounce of my being, was no better than the monsters he warned me about as a child.

How could he watch an innocent man—a man with hopes, dreams, and a family—being killed.

The man I idolized, who I believed was everything a father should be—strong, loving, protective—was nothing more than a predator in a tailored suit.

And Damian. Damian spent his life trying to claw back something—anything—from the ashes. All while the true villain sat in luxury, unbothered.

I’m proud of my husband. Proud of the lengths he went to, the ruthless precision with which he avenged his father and his family. He didn’t just settle for justice; he made sure they suffered. Slowly. Cruelly. With every painstaking step, he dismantled the lives of those responsible for his family’s destruction, piece by agonizing piece. And I stand by him. I stand by the man who took the empire that shattered his world and made it his own. He’s rebuilt it from the ashes, not as a victim, but as a force that no one will dare to underestimate again.

But Matt’s face, the way his hands tremble, the crack in his voice… He lived through it. My father ruined his life too.

Matt speaks again, “I was found hours later. I don’t remember much. I was too numb, too scared to move, too terrified to even think. I thought, maybe… maybe the cops would come. I thought they’d ask me what I saw, but no one did. I was just waiting, but nothing happened. No questions. No one ever came.” Matt’s voice cracks, his hands clenched into fists. “Instead, my mom —she shipped me off to London. Just like that. I was sent to boarding school. Like it was some kind of punishment. I was never given a chance to process it, to speak about what I saw. They never asked me if I was okay. My mom was terrified I’d talk, so she silenced me. She didn’t even take me to therapy. Instead, she put the fear in me—if I talked, I’d be next. Said I was only alive because they thought I passed out and didn’t see anything. My mother knew, though. She knew what had happened, and it changed everything for me. I never forgave her for siding with the criminals.”

I remember how Damian mentioned my father relocated all the employees working on that floor overnight.

His eyes cloud over with a haunted look again. “But it changed me, River. I couldn’t escape it. I buried it deep, I tried to forget. But you can’t forget something like that. So I started working on it, in my own way. I volunteered. I worked with NGOs. It was my way of helping him—the man they murdered.”

“That man… the one who was… killed,” I choke out, the words scraping against my throat. “His name was Anthony Sabatino.”

Matt freezes. His eyes widen. He’s silent for a moment before his voice drops to a harsh whisper, disbelief in every syllable. “How… how do you know his name?”

The truth burns in my chest like acid. “He was Damian’s father.”

A flash of horror crosses Matt’s face. His mouth opens, but no sound comes out at first. It’s like the ground beneath him has cracked wide open, swallowing everything he thought he understood. He stares at me in disbelief. “Damian’s father…”

Matt doesn’t blink. He doesn’t even breathe for a moment. Then, his voice drops, harsh and low. “Did he know your father was the one who killed his?”

My throat tightens as I nod.

“Before or after he married you?” he presses, his eyes now searching mine like he’s looking for any shred of hope that maybe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed.

“Before,” I say hoarsely.

Matt’s hands curl into fists. “That bastard,” he growls. “He married you for revenge, didn’t he? That explains everything. No wonder you were miserable, but you didn’t even know why. All of this—the misery, the distance, the cruelty—that’s what it was about. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even about you. It was about getting back at your father. It’s the only thing matters to him.”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head desperately. “That’s not true.”

“He didn’t love you, River. He didn’t want you—he wanted to destroy your life.”

“No! You don’t understand—”

Matt glares at me, as if trying to make me see what’s obvious. “River, I get it. What happened to him was brutal. I truly do feel for him. But pulling you into his mess? Into all of this? That’s unforgivable. You were innocent. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

I bite my lip. “I know you’re angry. I know it’s hard to understand. But we talked last night. Damian told me everything. He… he told me why he did it, why he married me. He…” My voice shakes. “He loves me. Even after everything, even after what my father did to him. He still loves me.”

There’s a long silence after that.

“I can’t believe he’s capable of that,” Matt finally murmurs, resigned. “Just promise me one thing…”

“What?”

“Promise me you won’t lose yourself in his world,” Matt says quietly. “Don’t let him pull you under. You deserve more than this—more than revenge, more than hatred. I want you to be happy, River. Don’t forget that.”

“I love him, Matt.”

He gives me a sad smile, his eyes filled with something unreadable. “You deserve the world, River. I just hope he gives you everything you’ve always wanted.”

After a beat, he says, “I’ll talk to Damian about that day. I think I can finally do what I’ve been wanting to for so long… help that man—Anthony get justice.”

I nod solemnly.

“So I guess I should leave now.” He pushes to his feet.

“Are you okay now?” I ask, rising.

“Yes.” He pauses, then, “I think I’ll never truly get over what I saw. Who could? But now, knowing I have a chance to help put those responsible behind bars… maybe I can start to make peace with all of it.”

I place my hand on his forearm, offering support. “Guess I’ll see you in L.A. in a couple of weeks then? We’re still on for volunteering, right?”

His smile is bittersweet. “I might not be there.”

I blink, surprised. “Oh... So, you’re staying in London a little longer?”

“I’ve been offered a position with a non-profit organization in South Africa. It’s a program focused on providing education and resources to underprivileged children.”

“South Africa?” I repeat. “How long will you be there?”

Matt looks away for a moment, as if searching for the right words. When he meets my eyes again, there’s a quiet finality to his gaze. “For good, probably,” he says softly, and I see the resignation in his eyes. “I don’t think I’d come back.”

“Why?” I ask, a frown pulling at my brows.

His gaze drifts, as if the question itself is something he’s not sure he can answer. “Because this is what I’ve always wanted to do—helping people, making a difference. This program isn’t just an opportunity—it’s a calling. If I can ease even a fraction of their struggles, if I can give them hope, how could I not go?”

His words carry a passion that I can’t help but admire. Still, the thought of never seeing him again makes my heart heavy. “I’ll miss you, Matt. You’re a great friend.”

His smile returns, faint but real. “Can I get a hug?” he asks, his voice small, almost vulnerable.

His question has a finality to it, a goodbye he doesn’t say outright. My eyes well up, and I nod silently.

He steps closer, wrapping me in his arms with a tenderness that makes me emotional.

His hold is warm, strong, yet hesitant, as if he’s afraid to let go. Then his lips graze the crown of my head. I freeze, my entire body going rigid.

“I love you, River,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I always have… and I always will.”

“Matt, I—”

“I know,” he says quickly, cutting me off, his tone resigned. “I know you’re married. I know you love him. I know I don’t stand a chance, not now, not ever. But… I had to say it. This might be the last time I’ll ever see you, and I couldn’t leave without telling you.”

Tears sting my eyes as his words pour out.

“Thank you, River,” he continues, his voice trembling. “Thank you for being my friend. For coming into my life and letting me be a part of yours, even for just a little while. I cherished every moment.” He pulls back slightly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’ll miss you,” he murmurs. “More than you’ll ever know. I—”

The words die on his lips as he’s yanked backward with a force that makes me stagger.

“Matt!” I cry out in shock, my heart hammering as Damian steps into view. His eyes are dark and blazing with rage.

Before I can process what’s happening, Damian’s fist connects with Matt’s jaw, sending him flying across the garden.

“Damian, no!” I scream, rushing forward as Matt struggles to his feet, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.

Damian doesn’t stop. He stalks toward Matt, his movements predatory and terrifying. In an instant, he grabs Matt by the collar and hauls him up with a force that makes my stomach twist.

“How dare you touch my wife?” Damian growls, each word dripping with cold, lethal intent.

“Damian, stop!” I plead, grabbing his arm and tugging desperately. “You’re misunderstanding! Please, listen to me!”

He doesn’t even glance at me, his focus locked on Matt, who looks more solemn than anything.

“I caught most of what he said, angel,” Damian murmurs, his voice dangerously quiet, his eyes never leaving Matt. The fury in his tone is unmistakable, coiled tight beneath a chilling calm. “It’s taking everything in me not to end him for even daring to speak to you like that.”

The violence in his words sends a shiver down my spine. My breath hitches, panic rising in my chest.

“But I love you!” I cry out, desperation cracking my voice. That finally gets his attention. His eyes flick to mine, the molten rage flickering as I nod frantically. “I love you , Damian. Only you. You’re my first love, my only love. You’re my whole life.”

His jaw tightens, his breathing labored. With a sharp shove, he lets go of Matt, who stumbles backward.

Damian pulls me to his chest with an iron grip, his possessiveness unmistakable. I reach up, cupping his face, my hands trembling. “Damian, listen to me. Everyone in this world has the right to their feelings, even Matt. He confessed, yes, but that’s all. He didn’t cross any lines. You can’t—”

He silences me with a fierce, dominating kiss, his lips claiming mine in a way that leaves no room for argument. It’s desperate and consuming, as though he’s trying to brand himself into my very soul.

When he finally pulls away, my lips are swollen, and my head is spinning.

I glance around, realizing Matt is nowhere to be seen.

He’s gone.

◆◆◆

Damian carries me to the guestroom and gently places me on the bed.

“So, you love me?” he asks softly, his voice low. His thumb brushes over my lip, gently, like he’s savoring the taste of the words I just gave him.

“I never stopped,” I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest.

Damian leans down, his lips brushing softly against mine, but I can feel the tension in his body—the need in his touch. He pulls back slightly, searching my eyes as if making sure I mean it, that I’m truly his.

“Damian…” My voice trembles slightly, everything inside of me screaming to feel him, to be close to him.

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for the hem of his sweater, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. I can’t help but watch the way his muscles flex with every movement, every inch of skin exposed. The sight of him—powerful, raw, and all mine—has my body responding before I can even think.

“We need to talk...” My mouth feels dry, my thoughts slipping away.

“Later,” he growls, as he climbs on top of me. “First, I need to love my wife.” Then his lips are on mine—insistent, urgent, as if this kiss is the only thing that matters.

In a blink of an eye, our clothes are discarded, and his hands travel over my skin with an authority that screams I belong to him—completely, irrevocably.

And I do.

I feel him everywhere—his lips, his hands, his heat. It’s all-consuming. His slow and light caresses drive me crazy. I whimper with need.

“Shh,” he whispers, pulling away for just a second, his eyes locking with mine, dark with need. “Let me love you, angel.”

“Yes…”

Damian’s eyes darken as he looks down at me. Then he begins loving me. He’s taking back everything we’ve been through—every moment of doubt, every distance. He’s erasing it all, and making me his once again.

His mouth worships me, his hands are everywhere, and all I can do is feel, ache, need.

His kisses are no longer tender—they’re possessive, hungry, as if he’s starving for me.

And then, with a controlled movement, he enters me, filling me completely. I gasp, the sensation overwhelming me, and I can feel him, every inch of him, claiming me, marking me. He moves slowly, each thrust deep, controlled, but with the kind of power that leaves me breathless.

“Tell me you love me,” he demands, his lips brushing against my ear. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I love you,” I whisper as I try to catch my breath. “I’m yours, Damian. Always.”

He growls, the sound primal, as he grips my hips harder, his movements becoming more urgent, more desperate as he drives deeper into me. “And I’m yours,” he breathes, his lips brushing mine. “Always.”

I gasp at the depth of his words, at the sincerity in them, as he continues to move within me. My body trembles, my heart thundering in my chest as his possessiveness takes over completely.

And in a deep, earth-shattering moment, we both fall apart, our bodies trembling, our hearts racing in sync. He holds me close, kissing me softly as we both try to catch our breath, the world outside forgotten.

“I love you, River,” he murmurs against my skin.

I smile because I know with every fiber of my being that it’s the absolute truth.

That evening, as we sit side by side, I finally decide to talk about Matt. Damian’s arm is draped around me, and I can feel the tension still coiling beneath his skin, a mixture of jealousy and something darker that he hasn’t fully shaken off yet.

“You shouldn’t have hit him.”

“He shouldn’t have fallen in love with my wife.”

I roll my eyes, frustrated that he refuses to feel guilty about hitting Matt. Damian doesn’t do guilt. Not when it’s about something or someone he sees as his. I’ve accepted it. So, I let it go. For now. There’s something more important I need to address. About Matt’s testimony.

Damian remains silent the whole time, not a single muscle in his body shifting as I speak. He absorbs everything, his eyes never leaving me. The only thing that betrays the turmoil inside him is the subtle tightening of his arm around me.

“He wants to help. He is willing to testify against them.”

Damian nods once. “I’m grateful.”

I bring his face to mine, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then wrap my arms around him in a protective embrace.

But then I freeze, suddenly remembering something. Damian notices immediately, pulling back to look at me, concern flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I... I didn’t get my birth control shot.”

His brow furrows. “So?”

“So? I could get pregnant.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “You don’t want my baby?”

My gaze sharpens as I look at him. “You know I do. More than anything. But you’re the one who insisted on the shot every time.”

He hesitates, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then his voice softens, laced with uncertainty. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to have my children after you learned about my past…”

The words hit me like a cold splash of water. I pull back, my chest tight with a mixture of shock and hurt. “Damian, how could you think that?” My voice cracks, my eyes stinging.

He reaches for me, but I resist, struggling against him for a moment before I let him pull me into his chest. I bury my face there, trying to find some comfort in the familiar warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

“I hate you,” I mumble against him, the words coming out softer than I mean them to.

“I know,” he says, the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice. “But I love you.”

I pull away just enough to look at him, still angry, but the tenderness in his eyes makes it hard to stay mad. He kisses the tip of my nose, and I feel a smile tug at my lips.

“Why haven’t you gone back to using Sabatino again?”

“Because the name Sabatino belongs to a version of me that’s long gone. I’m not that person anymore.”

“I don’t give a damn if you’re a Sabatino or a Montgomery. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

“I am,” he growls, leaning in to kiss me.

Someone coughs loudly, startling us both. Damian and I jerk apart and find Mrs. Hawthorne standing in the doorway of the guestroom.

“Yes, Mrs. Hawthorne?” Damian’s voice is clipped with irritation. I nudge him with my elbow, silently urging him to be more polite.

“Your friend, Matt, is here to see you,” she says, and I can feel the shift in Damian’s posture. His body stiffens.

“I’ll be right there,” I say quickly, standing up. Damian follows me, his presence looming close, as always.

“Matt,” I call out as I step into the living room.

He turns, offering me a small, warm smile, but it fades when he notices Damian standing behind me.

I wince when I see a bruise shadowing his jaw.

“I just came to make sure you’re all right and to say goodbye,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

“I’m fine, Matt,” I reply, but my heart aches at the sadness in his eyes.

He nods slowly, a fleeting look of relief crossing his face.

Damian clears his throat, stepping forward with a quiet edge to his voice. “Thank you for offering to help with my father’s case. I appreciate it.”

Matt meets Damian’s gaze, and nods. “It’s the least I can do.”

Damian pulls me closer, his arm wrapping around my waist as he speaks softly but with absolute certainty. “I’ll always keep her happy,” he says, the words meant as a reassurance, an acknowledgment of Matt’s feelings for me.

“You better,” he says, serious. “Or I’ll find you, and deal with you myself.”

I gasp at the threat. Damian arches an eyebrow but says nothing.

Matt takes a cautious step toward me, his eyes locked on mine, uncertain and searching. I stiffen instinctively, bracing for Damian’s wrath.

I half-expect Damian to erupt at any moment. But to my surprise, he doesn’t. He stays silent, his gaze never leaving Matt.

Matt extends his fist toward me in that familiar, playful fist-bump gesture, and a small smile tugs at my lips as I bump mine back. Without missing a beat, he twists his hand, opening it to reveal a handful of brightly wrapped candies. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to get cookies,” he says with a sad smile.

The sweet gesture makes my throat tighten and tears well up in my eyes.

“Thank you, Matt.” I choke out.

He takes a step back, his gaze lingering on me just a little too long. He offers me one last soft smile and says, “Goodbye, River. Be happy… always.” Then he was gone.

I stand there, a lump in my throat, wishing there had been more I could say to my friend, wishing he hadn’t had to leave with his heart still quietly breaking.

Damian leads me back inside, his hand on my back as he gently guides me through the door and closes it behind us with a soft click.

Later than night, Damian turns to me. “So are you ready to fly home tomorrow, Mrs. Montgomery?”

I pretend to ponder for a moment, drawing out the moment. “Hmm, what’s in it for me?” I ask, my tone playful.

He gives me a knowing smirk, stepping closer as he begins to list off everything that awaits me. “Well, for starters, you’ve got your loyal friend and personal bodyguard, Vicky, and her chief, Hal. Then, of course, we have my ever-clingy foster siblings, Summer and Raleigh, who haven’t missed a single day of pestering me while I was trying to win you back these past two weeks, bombarding my phone with ideas.

“And don’t forget their intimidating spouses—Archer and Hannah—who took it upon themselves to not-so-subtly threaten me into treating you right. And...” he pauses for effect, leaning in close enough for me to feel his breath against my skin, “last but definitely not least, there’s me. Your ruthless husband, who would burn the world to the ground just to make sure you’re safe, happy, and entirely mine.”