Damon’s POV:
Fuck.
The word played on a loop in my mind.
I gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel until my knuckles turned white, my jaw tight enough it ached. I dared a glance toward the passenger seat.
Ophelia was there. She was hunched over, her small frame nearly swallowed by the oversized velvet hoodie I’d bought her. Behind her, tucked into a child seat I’d had my assistant rush-deliver to the hospital, Valeria was fast asleep.
God. How the hell did I get here?
My mind drifted back to the hospital hallway yesterday—the look in Ophelia’s eyes. When she’d begged me to take her back to the manor, I’d felt a surge of pure, unadulterated rage.
“Not possible,” I had snapped. My own words still rang in my ears. I had rejected her in that hallway just as I had rejected her four ye
