Chapter 35 - The Other Reason I Called
2015 Words
There was something I never told Damian.
Or maybe that's not true.
I tried.
He just never answered long enough for me to say it.
I found out I was pregnant seven weeks after he left.
At first, I blamed the stress.
Kaelob had found the first irregularities in the company.
Mum barely slept.
Victor was becoming defensive.
Leyla was everywhere.
And Damian—
Damian was in Germany.
Chloe was alive, but struggling.
Maxime was going through more tests.
Every time I thought about calling him, I felt guilty for needing anything.
So when my period didn't come, I ignored it.
One week.
Then another.
I told myself my body was reacting to everything happening around me.
By the third week, I knew I was lying.
I bought the test alone.
Then another.
Then a third.
I sat on the bathroom floor with all three lined up beside me.
Positive.
Positive.
Positive.
For several minutes, I felt nothing.
Then everything.
Fear.
Disbelief.
And underneath it—
happiness.
I put my hand over my stomach.
There was nothing to feel.
Of course there wasn't.
But suddenly the room seemed too small for what had just happened.
Damian.
I reached for my phone.
Called.
No answer.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I stared at his name.
Then typed:
Can you please call me?
I almost added:
It's important.
I didn't.
Everything in Damian's life was important then.
His sister had nearly died.
His mother might be sick again.
I could wait a few hours.
He called the next day.
Six minutes.
Chloe wouldn't speak to him.
Maxime hadn't slept.
Leo blamed himself.
Damian sounded exhausted.
I listened.
I asked questions.
I told him I loved him.
And when he said, “I have to go,” I opened my mouth.
I'm pregnant.
Two words.
I could have said them.
Instead:
“Okay.”
“I'll call later.”
Later.
“Okay.”
He hung up.
I sat there with my hand against my stomach and told myself I'd tell him next time.
There would be a better moment.
There wasn't.
The company got worse.
Kaelob found more payments.
Mum started panicking.
Victor changed.
Then investigators came.
And every time Damian and I spoke, something was happening in Germany.
Chloe.
Maxime.
Doctors.
Therapy.
His parents.
I began to feel ridiculous trying to squeeze a baby into six-minute phone calls.
So I sent messages.
Can you call?
I really need to talk to you.
Something is happening here.
All true.
Just never the whole truth.
By the time Kaelob was arrested, I was almost four months pregnant.
Mum knew.
Kaelob knew.
Grandma knew.
Grandpa knew.
Nobody outside the family did.
I wore loose clothes.
Not because I was ashamed.
Because everything around us had become public.
Reporters wanted photographs of Kaelob.
People wanted statements from Mum.
Everyone suddenly had an opinion about the Tan family.
This one thing was mine.
Ours.
Damian's and mine.
Even if he didn't know it yet.
The morning they took Kaelob away, I called Damian twice.
No answer.
Then:
Please call me. It's Kaelob.
I didn't mention the baby.
How could I?
My brother had just been put in handcuffs.
Mum was breaking.
The company might collapse.
I needed Damian.
Not only because I was pregnant.
Because I was scared.
He didn't call.
And then Adrian Keller walked into our lives.
By then, hiding the pregnancy was becoming difficult.
Adrian noticed.
He never asked.
That was Adrian.
He waited until people were ready to tell him things.
Mum told him eventually.
Not because she wanted to.
Because his investment team needed to understand why certain future decisions might affect me.
He simply nodded.
No surprise.
No judgment.
Later that evening, he found me outside my grandparents' house.
“You know.”
It wasn't a question.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Your mother told me yesterday.”
I looked at him.
“And?”
“And what?”
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend you don't have questions.”
He sat beside me.
“Fine. Does Damian know?”
I looked away.
“No.”
Adrian was quiet.
“I tried.”
“I believe you.”
“He'll come back.”
It sounded weaker every time I said it.
Adrian didn't argue.
“I know about Damian,” he said.
My eyes snapped toward him.
“How?”
“Your mother.”
“She had no right.”
“She didn't tell me much.”
“I love him.”
“I know.”
“He's coming back.”
Adrian nodded.
“Then I hope he does.”
I remembered those words for years.
But there was more to that conversation.
Something I hadn't wanted to remember.
Adrian looked down at my stomach.
“And I know the baby is his.”
I froze.
“Mum told you that too?”
“No.”
“Then how—”
“Rose.”
He almost smiled.
“You're waiting for him. You're carrying his child. I can put two things together.”
I looked away.
“Does that change anything?”
“About the investment?”
“About why you're helping.”
“No.”
“You don't even know me.”
“I know enough.”
“That sounds arrogant.”
“Probably.”
I almost smiled.
Then he became serious.
“I hope he comes back.”
I swallowed.
“So do I.”
“Because a child deserves the chance to know his father.”
My eyes filled.
“And because you love him.”
“Yes.”
Adrian nodded.
There was pain in his expression.
I didn't understand it then.
Or maybe I did and chose not to.
Months passed.
My stomach grew.
Damian's messages became fewer.
So did mine.
Every time the baby moved, I thought of him.
The first kick happened during a meeting with lawyers.
I stopped speaking mid-sentence.
Mum looked at me.
“What?”
I took her hand and pressed it against my stomach.
Again.
Her face changed.
For one minute, there was no Kaelob.
No Victor.
No Leyla.
No missing money.
Just Mum laughing with tears in her eyes because her grandchild had kicked her hand.
Grandma cried when she felt it.
Grandpa refused to admit he did.
“He's strong,” he said.
“You don't know it's a boy.”
“Strong girl then.”
It was a boy.
I found out alone with Mum.
Damian should have been there.
I hated him that day.
Then I cried because I hated him.
Mum held me.
“What am I going to tell him?”
“The truth.”
“What truth?”
She looked at me.
“That his father loved you once.”
Once.
I hated that word too.
My son was born during a storm.
Rain hit the hospital windows so hard that Grandma later claimed the entire Philippines had announced his arrival.
Kaelob was there.
Mum was there.
Grandma and Grandpa waited outside.
Adrian was in Europe.
Damian was somewhere in Germany.
I didn't call him.
By then, I no longer had a working number for him.
And I was tired of chasing someone who had stopped looking back.
When they put my son against my chest, everything else disappeared.
He was tiny.
Angry.
Perfect.
And blond.
I laughed when I saw it.
Actually laughed.
Mum started crying.
“Oh, Rose.”
“I know.”
His hair was so light it was almost white.
I'd seen photographs of Damian as a child.
There was no question where it came from.
Then he opened his eyes.
Blue.
Of course.
“Your father is going to kill me,” Mum whispered.
I kissed my son's forehead.
“He doesn't know.”
Mum didn't answer.
We named him Noah.
I wanted something that belonged to neither family.
Not Tan.
Not Dado.
Something that could simply be his.
For the first months, Adrian saw Noah mostly through photographs.
Then he came back.
He walked into Mum's house carrying documents and stopped when he saw me on the sofa.
Noah was asleep against my chest.
Adrian didn't move.
“You can come closer.”
“I wasn't sure.”
“Why?”
He looked at the baby.
“I don't know.”
I smiled.
“That's new.”
He sat beside me.
Noah moved.
Opened his eyes.
Adrian stared.
“Well.”
I laughed softly.
“Exactly.”
“He looks like him?”
“Yes.”
“You're sure?”
“Completely.”
Adrian nodded.
No jealousy.
No disappointment.
Just acceptance.
“Can I?”
I hesitated.
Then placed Noah into his arms.
Adrian looked terrified.
“Support his head.”
“I am.”
“You look like you're holding a bomb.”
“I've negotiated acquisitions worth hundreds of millions with less pressure.”
I laughed.
Noah opened his eyes.
Adrian looked down at him.
Something changed in his face.
Very small.
Very quiet.
I saw it anyway.
“He's beautiful.”
“Yes.”
Noah wrapped his tiny hand around Adrian's finger.
Adrian didn't speak for a long time.
Neither did I.
That was the first time he held my son.
It wasn't the last.
Adrian never tried to become his father.
He simply kept showing up.
When Noah was sick, Adrian called.
When he started crawling, Adrian received a video.
When he took his first steps, they were toward Kaelob, who celebrated like he'd won the lottery.
And when Adrian came to visit, Noah eventually started reaching for him.
I noticed.
So did Adrian.
Neither of us said anything.
Not yet.
Years later, when Adrian told me he loved me, Noah was already part of whatever that meant.
I reminded him anyway.
“You understand it's not just me.”
“I know.”
“Noah has a father.”
“Yes.”
“Even if Damian isn't here.”
“I know.”
“If Damian comes back—”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
It was one of the few times I saw fear in him.
“If Damian comes back, we'll deal with that when it happens.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“You could have your own children.”
He looked at me.
“So?”
“Adrian.”
He moved closer.
“I will never ask Noah to be less important because he doesn't have my DNA.”
My throat tightened.
“You don't know what you're promising.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don't.”
“I love you.”
I looked away.
He touched my hand.
“And I love him.”
I couldn't speak.
Adrian continued quietly.
“Not because he's yours.”
I looked at him.
“Not anymore.”
That broke me.
“He has his father's eyes,” Adrian said. “He probably always will.”
A tear slipped down my face.
“I don't need him to look like me.”
He took my hand.
“If you choose a life with me, Rose, I will love that boy exactly as I would love a child we made together.”
“Don't say that unless you mean it.”
“I mean it.”
“And if Damian comes back?”
Adrian was quiet for a moment.
Then:
“I'll hope he's worthy of him.”
I cried.
Adrian held me.
And for the first time since Noah was born, I allowed myself to imagine a family that wasn't the one I'd once planned.
Not because Damian had stopped being Noah's father.
He hadn't.
Nothing could change that.
But fatherhood, I would learn, could be two different things.
One man had given my son life without ever knowing he existed.
Another was slowly giving him a father without ever asking to take the first man's place.
And somewhere in Germany, Damian Dado was building an empire.
He had no idea that the most important thing he'd ever created had learned to walk without him.
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