CHAPTER 15: THE SHADOWS OF THE PAST.

Damian sat at the dining table, thumb scrolling rapidly through the flood of comments under Vanessa’s post, his jaw clenched so tight it sent a dull ache up the side of his face.

The photo of him and Vanessa from last year’s gala stared back, her caption like a knife aimed straight at the fresh ink on their marriage license.

Chloe paced behind him, bare feet slapping against the hardwood, one hand on her belly and the other gesturing sharply. “She’s never going to stop, is she? Every time we take one step forward, she drags us ten steps back with these lies. And people are eating it up.”

“She’s desperate,” Damian said, setting the phone down with more force than necessary. “The DNA claim fell apart. Now she’s going for public sympathy.”

He picked up his phone again and dialed his head of PR. “Elena, it’s Damian. Vanessa’s post is going viral. Counter it hard. Full statement—newly married, expecting twins, happy family. Leak the courthouse photo if you have to. Bury this now.”

Elena’s voice came through crisp. “On it. But the optics are tricky. The surrogate-to-wife story already has half the internet calling it a PR stunt. We need more than a statement.”

“Then make it more,” he snapped. “Photos of us together, Quotes from me. Whatever it takes.” He hung up and rubbed his eyes.

Chloe stopped pacing and leaned against the table edge. “This is our first official thing as a married couple tonight. That charity gala. I already feel like I’m walking into a trap.”

“We have to go,” Damian replied. “Board members will be there. Showing a united front matters right now.” He stood and moved closer, but she turned away toward the bedroom. “The stylist brought options. Try them on. We leave in two hours.”

Chloe disappeared into the guest suite. Damian paced the living room, checking stock alerts and security updates. Twenty minutes later he heard a muffled sound from the bedroom and went to check.

He found her standing in front of the full-length mirror in a deep navy gown, hands tugging at the sides where the fabric stretched over her belly and hips. Another dress lay crumpled on the bed. Tears tracked down her cheeks as she stared at her reflection.

“I can’t do this,” she said, voice thick. “They’re all going to look at me and see exactly what Vanessa’s post suggests—the plus-size mistake who trapped you. I already heard the whispers at the last event. ‘Desperate. Gold-digger. Doesn’t belong.’ Trying on these dresses just reminds me I’ll never look like her. Like the woman they think you should have.”

Damian stepped into the room, hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t reach for her too soon. “Chloe.”

“No, don’t.” She wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand and turned sideways in the mirror, pulling the fabric tighter. “Look at this. It doesn’t even fit right. Everything pulls. And the comments online are already calling me a whale in a designer tent. I know what they’ll say tonight.”

He moved behind her, meeting her eyes in the reflection. “The dress looks good. Strong. Like you.” The words felt clumsy coming out, but he pushed on. “I don’t need you to look like Vanessa. I never did. Watching you these past months—fighting the doctors, fighting me, keeping the bakery going even while terrified for the twins—it makes me question every wall I built. I thought control and distance kept me safe. You make me see how empty that is.”

Chloe’s shoulders dropped a fraction. She turned to face him directly, eyes still shiny. “That’s easy to say now. But when the cameras are flashing and your mother’s people are whispering, will you still mean it?”

“I mean it.” He reached out and adjusted the strap on her shoulder, his fingers brushing her skin. “We walk in together. I stay by your side. Let them talk. You’re my wife. The mother of my children. That’s louder than any dress or any post Vanessa makes.”

She exhaled slowly and nodded. “Okay. This one then. Navy.”

They finished preparing in tense silence. Damian changed into his tux while Chloe touched up her makeup. As they gathered their things near the door, his phone buzzed with a new message from an unknown number. He opened it.

Marcus: "Cute wedding photos. Enjoy them while you can. I have copies of the original surrogacy contract—the one with the payoff and custody carve-outs. Step down quietly before the board vote or I leak every page. Your fake marriage won’t survive the truth."

Damian’s grip tightened on the phone until the screen cracked at the edges. Chloe looked over at him, concern flashing across her face.

“What is it?” she asked.

*********

Chloe gripped Damian’s arm tighter as they stepped onto the red carpet, camera flashes exploding like fireworks in her face. The emerald gown from earlier felt too tight across her belly now, the fabric pulling with every step while voices shouted questions from all sides.

“Mrs. King! Over here! Smile for the newlyweds!”

“Chloe, is the marriage real or just to cover the surrogacy scandal?”

She kept her chin up like Damian had coached her, but her free hand kept drifting to her stomach. The twins shifted restlessly, as if they could sense the chaos. *I don’t belong here. These people see the dress, the belly, the headlines, and they already decided I’m the fraud.*

Damian’s hand stayed firm on her lower back, guiding her forward through the crush. “Ignore them,” he said under his breath. “We’re here together. That’s the only story that matters tonight.”

They made it inside the glittering ballroom where crystal chandeliers hung overhead and waiters circulated with champagne. Chloe’s heels pinched her swollen feet, but she forced herself to stand straighter. Board members nodded at Damian, their eyes sliding over her with barely hidden judgment. She smiled anyway, the expression tight on her face.

A tall woman in a silver slip dress approached them near the bar, wine glass in hand. She looked Chloe up and down slowly. “Damian, darling, congratulations on the wedding. Quite the… unexpected choice. Some men really do settle when the pressure’s on, don’t they?”

The words landed like a slap. Chloe’s fingers dug into Damian’s sleeve. Heat rushed up her neck.

Damian’s voice cut through cold and sharp. “Watch your mouth. Chloe is my wife. If you can’t speak to her with respect, don’t speak to us at all. Walk away.”

The woman blinked, muttered something about “touchy,” and disappeared into the crowd. Chloe exhaled shakily, but the sting lingered. “They all think it. She just said it out loud.”

“She’s irrelevant,” Damian replied, steering her toward their assigned table. His thumb rubbed a slow circle on her back again, but it didn’t fully ease the knot in her chest.

The evening dragged with polite conversations and endless photos. Chloe excused herself after the main course, needing a moment away from the eyes. She pushed into the elegant restroom, the door swinging shut behind her, and leaned against the marble counter, breathing deep.

The door opened again. Vanessa stepped in, perfect in a backless black gown, lips curved in a satisfied smile.

“You,” Chloe said, straightening immediately. “What are you doing here?”

Vanessa checked her reflection, adjusting her hair. “Guest of a board member. Funny how these things work. I saw you out there, trying so hard. It’s almost sad.”

Chloe turned to face her fully, hands planted on the counter. “Leave me alone. We’re married now. The twins are ours. Your games aren’t working.”

Vanessa stepped closer, voice dropping low. “You’ll never be enough for him. Not really. He needs someone who understands his world, not a bakery girl playing dress-up with his babies. He’ll get tired of the novelty. He always does. Then where will you be? Alone again, with two kids he’ll eventually take from you.”

Chloe’s hands clenched until her nails bit into her palms. “Get out. Now.”

Vanessa laughed softly and walked out, leaving the scent of expensive perfume behind.

Chloe stayed in the restroom longer than she meant to, splashing water on her face and trying to steady her breathing. When she finally stepped back into the hallway, Damian was there waiting, brow furrowed.

“You were gone too long,” he said. “What happened?”

She shook her head, but he didn’t push. Instead he took her hand and led her toward the dance floor where soft music played. “Come with me.”

The floor wasn’t crowded yet. Damian pulled her gently into his arms, one hand on her waist, the other holding hers. He held her carefully, mindful of her belly between them, swaying slowly to the music. His chin rested lightly against her temple.

“You handled tonight better than I would have,” he murmured. “Stronger than most people in this room could manage. I see it. Even if they don’t.”

Chloe let herself lean into him a little, the warmth of his body cutting through the noise in her head. For a few minutes the rest of the room faded. His hand shifted protectively over her lower back, holding her closer as the song continued.

Then she spotted his mother near the terrace doors, phone pressed to her ear, talking animatedly. Chloe pulled back slightly. “I need some air.”

She slipped away before he could follow and moved toward the terrace, staying close to the wall. His mother’s voice carried on the breeze.

“…Marcus, the board vote is almost locked. We push the surrogacy details tomorrow. The leaked contract pages will finish him. Once he’s out, we bring Vanessa back in and handle the girl quietly. The twins are King heirs. They belong with us, not her.”

Chloe froze behind a pillar, heart hammering against her ribs. She pressed her back to the cold stone, listening as Mrs. King continued plotting on the phone with Marcus. The music from the ballroom felt distant now. The twins kicked hard, but she barely felt it over the roar in her ears.

This wasn’t over. It was just beginning.