Chapter 10: The Gender Reveal
1049 Words
"Rule #1," Dr. Reyes said, holding up an envelope. "No one opens this but you two."
"Rule #2," she continued. "Breathe. It’s just a baby."
Damien and I sat in the penthouse living room. 12 weeks.
The second ultrasound.
The screen had shown everything. Tiny fingers. Tiny toes.
And something Dr. Reyes saw that we didn’t.
"Boy or girl?" I whispered.
"That’s in here," Dr. Reyes said, tapping the sealed envelope. "Pink or blue. Your choice how to find out."
She handed it to Damien.
He stared at it like it was a bomb.
"Can we... do it alone?" he asked.
"Of course," she said, packing up. "Call me if you need anything. And congratulations."
When she left, it was just us. And the envelope.
---
For 10 minutes, neither of us touched it.
It sat on the coffee table between us.
White. Plain. Deciding everything.
"Are you nervous?" I asked.
"Terrified," Damien admitted. "What if I’m bad at this?"
"At what? Being a dad to a boy? Or a girl?"
"Both." He ran a hand through his hair. "My dad only wanted an heir. A son to take over.
When I was born a boy, he treated me like a project."
I took his hand. "You won’t do that."
"How do you know?"
"Because you already talk to our baby," I said. "Every night. 'Goodnight little one.' That’s not a project. That’s a dad."
Damien looked at me. Then at the envelope.
"What do you want?"
"I don’t care," I said honestly. "As long as they’re healthy. And as long as you’re there."
He nodded. Picked up the envelope.
"Together?"
"Together."
We ripped it open.
Inside: One piece of paper.
IT'S A BOY
In blue ink.
Damien froze.
"A boy," he whispered.
"A boy," I repeated.
For a second, nothing.
Then Damien made a sound. Half laugh, half sob.
"A son," he said. Like he couldn’t believe it. "I’m having a son."
He pulled me into his arms so tight I couldn’t breathe.
"Hey," I laughed into his chest. "We’re gonna need air."
"Sorry," he mumbled, but didn’t let go. "A son, Ava. With you."
He pulled back. His eyes were glassy.
"Can I..." He gestured to my stomach.
I nodded.
He knelt on the floor in front of me. Put both hands on my stomach.
"Hey, buddy," he said quietly. "It’s Dad. And Mom."
My heart shattered.
"I don’t know what I’m doing," he admitted to our stomach. "But I promise I’ll learn.
I promise I’ll be better than he was. I promise you’ll never feel alone."
Tears were running down my face.
"Damien," I whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I think he heard you."
He looked up at me. And smiled.
The real one. The one that reached his eyes.
"We’re having a boy," he said again. Like testing the words.
"We are," I said.
---
That night, we didn’t tell anyone.
No press. No board. No Vivienne.
Just us.
We ordered takeout. Sat on the floor of my studio.
Painted the ultrasound photo.
Blue and gold.
"What should we call him?" Damien asked, dipping his brush.
"I don’t know," I said. "What did you want to be called?"
"Anything but Damien Jr," he said quickly. "I hated that."
I laughed. "Noted. No Juniors."
We made a list.
Names on scrap paper. Crossed out. Circled.
At midnight, Damien was asleep on the floor. Head on my lap.
One hand still resting on my stomach.
I ran my fingers through his hair.
"Hey," I whispered.
"Hmm?" he mumbled.
"What about Cole?"
"Cole what?"
"Cole. As a first name."
He opened his eyes. Thought about it.
"Cole Cole?" he frowned.
"No," I laughed. "Cole. After you. After your company. After everything you’re building."
"Cole," he tested it. "Cole Cole."
Then he grinned.
"I like it. Cole."
"Cole," I agreed.
He rolled over and kissed my stomach.
"Hi Cole," he whispered. "Can’t wait to meet you."
I started crying again.
"Hey, no crying," he said, sitting up. "Good tears or bad?"
"Good," I said. "The best."
He pulled me into his lap.
"Ava," he said.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For him. For this."
He kissed me. Soft. Reverent.
---
The next morning, reality hit.
Selena: "The board wants to know. Are you announcing?"
Damien: "No."
Me: "Not yet."
Because the second the world knew we were having a boy, Vivienne would use it.
"Heir to the Cole fortune." "Future CEO." "Leverage."
So we kept it secret.
Just for us. For 24 more hours.
We went to the baby store.
Discreet. Sunglasses. Hats.
Damien pushed the cart. I picked out onesies.
"This one," I said, holding up a tiny blue suit.
"That’s ridiculous," Damien said. "He’s 12 weeks."
"I know," I grinned. "But imagine him in it."
Damien took the picture with his phone.
"For later," he said. "When he’s actually big enough."
In the car, he was quiet.
"What’s wrong?" I asked.
"Nothing," he said. "Just... thinking. About my dad. About what kind of dad I want to be."
"You’ll be great," I said.
"What if I’m not?"
"Then I’ll be there," I said simply. "To remind you."
He reached over and squeezed my hand.
---
That night, Vivienne texted.
Message: I know. About the boy. The whole city will know tomorrow. -V
Damien showed me.
"How?" I whispered.
"She has people in the doctor’s office," he said, jaw tight. "I’m firing everyone tomorrow."
He pulled me close.
"I’m sorry. I wanted this to be ours longer."
"It is ours," I said. "No matter what she does."
He nodded. Then did something unexpected.
He picked up his phone. Opened i********:.
And posted.
A photo.
His hand on my stomach.
My hand over his.
Caption:
"Cole. Due March. Can’t wait to meet you, son. -D & A"
He hit post before I could stop him.
"What did you just do?" I gasped.
"Took back the story," he said simply. "Before she could."
Within minutes: 10k likes.
Comments: "CONGRATS!!" "BABY COLE!!" "TEAM AVA"
For the first time, we controlled the narrative.
Damien set his phone down.
"How do you feel?"
"Scared," I admitted. "But... good. Because we did it together."
He kissed my forehead.
"Together," he agreed. "Always."
Outside, the internet exploded.
Inside, Damien’s hand was on our son.
And for once, Vivienne didn’t win.
- Writer
