The Billionaire’s Accidental Wife

Chapter 19: One Year Later

Cole’s first birthday.

The penthouse was full of balloons.

Blue ones.

Messy.

Just like us.

Cole was crawling.

Fast.

Into everything.

"Damien, he’s in the paint!" I yelled from the kitchen.

"I’ve got him," Damien yelled back. "Again."

I walked in.

There he was.

CEO of Cole Corp.

On the floor.

With blue paint on his suit.

And Cole on his lap.

Also blue.

"Happy birthday, buddy," Damien said, kissing Cole’s messy head.

Cole giggled. Grabbed his dad’s tie.

And put it in his mouth.

"That’s new," I laughed.

"He’s teething," Damien said. "And destructive. Like his mom."

"Hey," I said, throwing a towel at him. "I’m not destructive."

"You burned pancakes," he grinned.

"Once," I said.

---

The party was small.

No press.

No board.

Just us.

Selena.

Dr. Reyes.

The nurses.

My old art teacher.

And Cole.

In a tiny suit.

Blue tie.

Sitting in a high chair covered in cake.

Damien stood up.

"Speech," everyone said.

"Oh God," he muttered.

He picked up Cole.

Cole grabbed his face.

"Hi," Damien said to the room. "I’m Damien Cole. And a year ago I was the worst husband."

Laughter.

"A year ago I thought I had to run a company to be worth something."

He looked at Cole.

"Then this guy showed up. And taught me I just had to show up."

He kissed Cole’s cheek.

"Happy birthday, son. You saved us."

Everyone clapped.

I was crying. Again.

---

After everyone left, it was quiet.

Just us.

Balloon mess.

Cake on the floor.

Damien and I sat on the couch.

Cole asleep between us.

On his back.

Little chest rising and falling.

"He looks like you," I said.

"He has your eyes," Damien said.

We were quiet.

Peaceful.

"Can I tell you something?" Damien said.

"What?"

"A year ago I was in a boardroom fighting for my life," he said. "

Today I’m on a floor covered in cake. And I’ve never been richer."

I took his hand.

"Me too," I said. "A year ago I was scared. Of you. Of us. Of everything."

"And now?"

"Now I’m home," I said.

He kissed my hand.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too," I said.

---

Later, we put Cole to bed.

His room.

Blue walls.

The terrible painting Damien did.

Framed.

Damien laid him down.

"Night, buddy," he whispered. "Dad loves you."

"Night, Cole," I whispered. "Mommy loves you."

We closed the door.

Stood in the hall.

"So," Damien said. "What now?"

"Now," I said. "We go paint."

---

The studio was the same.

But different.

New easels.

New paints.

And in the corner: Cole’s tiny art table.

Damien picked up a brush.

"I’m still bad at this," he said.

"You’re getting better," I said.

We painted.

Not Cole Tower.

Not scandal.

Just us.

A park.

A bench.

Me. Him. Cole in the middle.

"For his room," Damien said.

"I love it," I said.

---

At 10PM, we got a notification.

Cole Corp Stock: All time high.

CEO Damien Cole announces 6 months paternity leave.

Damien rolled his eyes.

"Selena posted that," he said. "Without asking."

"Good," I said. "You deserve it."

He pulled me into his lap.

"I do deserve this," he said. "I deserve you."

"And I deserve you," I said.

We kissed.

Slow.

Like we had time.

Because we did.

---

Midnight.

We were in bed.

Cole’s monitor on.

Silent.

Damien was tracing circles on my back.

"Ava?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever think about Vegas?"

"Sometimes," I said. "Why?"

"Because I was an i***t," he said. "And I got the best thing that ever happened to me."

I turned to face him.

"You’re not an i***t," I said. "You’re my husband."

He smiled. That real one.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you too," I said.

---

The monitor crackled.

Cole.

Fussing.

Damien was up before me.

"Got him," he said.

I heard him in the nursery.

"Hey buddy," he whispered. "Can’t sleep? Me neither."

Then:

"Let me tell you a story. About how Mom and Dad met in Vegas..."

I smiled in the dark.

This was our life.

No scandal.

No Vivienne.

No boardrooms.

Just a billionaire.

An artist.

And their son.

A family.

Or so we thought.

---

ONE WEEK LATER

The letter came on a Tuesday.

No return address.

Heavy paper.

Cole Tower letterhead.

Damien opened it at the kitchen table.

His face went still.

"What is it?" I asked.

He handed it to me.

"NOTICE OF CUSTODY REVIEW"

"PETITIONER: VIVIENNE HART"

"GROUNDS: FITNESS OF PARENTS"

My hands started shaking.

"But she’s in prison," I whispered.

"She got out early," Damien said quietly. "Good behavior."

Cole laughed from the playpen.

Oblivious.

Damien looked at me.

His jaw tight.

"She’s not taking him," he said. "Not this time."

He pulled me into his arms.

"I promise," he whispered. "I’ll fight her again."

Outside, the city was loud.

Inside, the war wasn’t over.

It was just starting again.