Mated To The Deranged CEO

Chapter Three

I thought it would be as simple as packing a few clothes, my electronics, and some paint. Turns out, I’d have to refurbish the whole house from scratch.

I left early—exactly four in the morning. Damian was already waiting for me in the car, his usual calm demeanor contrasting my groggy frustration. After loading the last of my stuff, I took one final look at my old room. Empty now, it felt like a metaphor for how little of myself I’d left behind.

The drive was long—three hours without traffic—but the distance felt greater, like I was moving further from my past. The island, connected to the city by a single bridge, had houses scattered across it. Yet, Dad had chosen to build this house in isolation, away from the others. At first glance, it seemed perfect... until I stepped inside.

It was less of a modern apartment and more of a farmhouse. The teal furniture matched the walls, giving the place a dated look. Green plants were everywhere, as though trying to make up for the lack of personality in the space. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and kitchen provided breathtaking views of the beach and cityscape, but that was about the only highlight.

The bedroom, once an art studio, was a disaster. Paint stains covered the floor and walls, remnants of Dad’s hobbies. It was an empty canvas, yes, but one that screamed "work." I stood on the porch, staring at the house, overwhelmed by how much there was to do. Paint, new furniture, repairs—refurbishing this place would be a full-time job.

Turning to Damian, I opened my mouth to ask for help, but froze. He stood there wearing a straw hat, goggles, a mask, and a bright yellow onesie—the kind engineers wear. In his hands was a box with matching outfits for me.

“You’re joking,” I said, blinking at him.

“I’m not,” he replied, pushing the box into my arms. “You’re not going to get the house you want unless you do the work yourself. Besides, you’re creative and an artist in almost everything. You’ve got this.”

He smiled, though the mask obscured most of his face, and added, “Your things are in the truck, safe and sound. Let’s get this done, and maybe we can relax afterward.”

I sighed, annoyed but resigned. Damian was relentless when it came to tough love. He even called three of his friends to help, though I didn’t expect much.

By the time we started, it was clear this would take all day—and then some. While his friends worked on the kitchen, bathrooms, and living room, I focused on the bedrooms. One would be my studio or study, though I might keep my bedroom multifunctional for lazy days.

We worked non-stop, taking breaks every five hours. Burgers, soda, and cake—my treat, since I wasn’t paying them for their labor—were the fuel that kept us going. By the time we finished at eleven that night, my entire body ached. My hands, back, and legs felt like they’d been through a marathon.

Damian sent his friends home, thanking them profusely. Meanwhile, I sat in the car, zoning out to soft music. The house wasn’t perfect yet, but it was close. The new grey and black interior felt modern and sleek, and Damian had already ordered white furniture to match. The fence and neon lights would have to wait a day or two, but I didn’t mind.

Damian’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Let’s find a hotel nearby. You can move in tomorrow morning once everything’s dry and settled. The fence will be done by then—I hired some men to finish it tonight.”

I nodded, appreciating his effort, though his exhaustion was evident in the low tone of his voice. He grabbed a bag from the back seat and walked off, forgetting I was still there.

Dragging myself out of the car, I locked it and followed him. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing, a reminder of the peace I was fighting for.

We booked two rooms at a cozy hotel. Exhaustion hit me the moment I stepped inside. A quick bath later, I slipped into a light black dress and collapsed into bed, too tired even to grab dinner. My stomach grumbled in protest, but I ignored it. Sleep came faster than I expected, pulling me under in a comforting embrace.

For the first time in a long time, I felt at peace.

_____

"Mommy, look! A fish!"

Tiny hands stretched out toward me, holding up a small, flopping creature with delight. Her silver-gray hair, soft and wild, framed her face in waves that mirrored mine. It was naturally styled into a wolf cut—a feature that seemed almost too specific to be coincidental. I often wondered if it was a gene she inherited from her father, though I never let my mind linger on him for too long.

Her father, after all, was a closed chapter in my life, a fleeting moment that only mattered because it brought her into this world. I had no intention of finding him, nor did I feel any need to reconcile the past. He was a phase, a mistake I refused to relive. Even if we crossed paths again, I wouldn’t let him back into our lives.

Turning my gaze to the house behind us, I marveled at how much had changed. The once simple, beachside home had transformed over the past six months. Rebuilding it had been a monumental task, one that required adding a second floor to accommodate my daughter, Evie, who needed more space to explore her boundless energy.

Damian had been less than thrilled when I brought up the renovations so soon after moving in, but he helped regardless, his grumbling masked by a fondness he refused to admit.

Tomorrow, I had an important interview—a chance to build a stable future for us. However, it meant leaving Evie with Damian and his wife for the day. I couldn’t risk taking her to the city, not with the looming threat of running into Henry or, worse, her father.

The thought made me uneasy for more reasons than one. Evie had inherited her father’s striking silver eyes, a feature Damian once mentioned was incredibly rare—only one percent of the population shared it.

She also had a photographic memory, sharp intelligence that made her seem older than her three years. While her brilliance amazed me, it was also a reminder of the unknown man who unknowingly shared her existence.

"Mommy, look! It's squishy!" she squealed, running back toward me with a tiny squid wriggling in her hands. Her giggles, high-pitched and sweet, filled the air like music, but my heart ached for the poor creature she clung to.

"Evie, sweetheart," I said gently, prying the squid from her tight grip. "We can’t keep catching animals like this. They belong in the sea, okay?" I released the squid back into the waves, watching as it quickly swam away.

Her lips puckered into a slight pout, but she nodded. "Okay, Mommy."

"Good girl. Now, it’s dinner time, and you need to pack your things for tomorrow."

She grinned up at me, her mischievous energy never fading, and scampered off toward the house. As I followed her, I couldn’t help but smile. Life wasn’t easy, but with her by my side, it felt full in ways I’d never imagined.