Aiden's POV
Late evening at Wolfe Industries, and I couldn't focus on anything.
The quarterly reports blurred on my screen. Emails piled up unread. My mind kept circling the same thoughts—the DNA results, Elara, the children who might be mine, the life that was either about to begin or shatter into pieces.
I loosened my tie, poured myself a whiskey, stared out at the Manhattan skyline without seeing it. Three to five business days. It had been four. Tomorrow, maybe the next day, I'd know the truth.
My office door burst open without warning.
Elara stormed in, and one look at her face told me something was very wrong. Her makeup was smudged, mascara streaked beneath her eyes. Her whole body was trembling like she was barely holding herself together.
I was on my feet immediately. "What happened? Are you okay? The kids—"
"The kids are fine. They're with the sitter." Her voice cracked. "I need to tell you something."
I guided her to the leather couch, sat beside her. Close but not touching. Giving her space.
"I saw Michael tonight." She stared at her hands, and couldn't meet my eyes. "He asked to talk. Privately."
My jaw tightened, but I stayed silent. Waited.
"He kissed me." The words fell like stones into still water. "And I didn't stop him right away."
Silence stretched between us. I felt something cold spreading through my chest—not anger, exactly. Disappointment. Hurt. The fear that I'd already lost her to a history I could never compete with.
I stood, walked to the window. Needed a moment to collect myself.
"Did you kiss him back?"
The question came out rough, scraped raw.
"I... for a second." Her voice was small, agonized. "But then I stopped it. I pushed him away."
"He's your first love." I kept my voice even. "I understand if part of you still—"
"No."
Then she was beside me, turning me to face her, her hands gripping my arms like she was afraid I'd disappear.
"You don't understand." Her eyes burned into mine. "I stopped because I couldn't do that to you. Because when he kissed me, all I could think about was how wrong it felt. How it wasn't you."
I searched her face, looking for the lie, the hesitation. I found neither.
"What are you saying?"
She faltered, fierce certainty giving way to something softer. More vulnerable. Her grip on my arms loosened, and she looked away, color rising in her cheeks.
"I'm saying..." She took a shaky breath. "I think I have feelings for you, Aiden. Real feelings. The kind I haven't felt in a long time." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "Maybe ever."
The confession hung between us, fragile and uncertain. She still wouldn't meet my eyes.
Something cracked open in my chest.
I cupped her face with both hands, tilting it up until she had no choice but to look at me. Her eyes were swimming with tears, with fear, with hope she was afraid to feel.
"Elara." My voice was rough with everything I'd been holding back. "I fell in love with you five years ago. One night. A few hours. A woman in a burgundy dress who laughed like music and looked at me like I was the only person in the world." I brushed a tear from her cheek. "I've loved you every day since. I never stopped."
Her breath caught. "Aiden—"
"I don't have feelings for you." I leaned closer, my forehead touching hers. "I am completely, irrevocably, desperately in love with you. I have been since the moment you smiled at me like I was your whole world."
A sob escaped her—half laugh, half cry. "I thought you were Michael. That whole night—"
"I know. And I don't care. What I feel for you is real. It's always been real."
"Aiden..." His name was a prayer on her lips.
"Say my name again."
"Aiden."
I kissed her.
Not gentle. Not tentative. This was five years of longing unleashed—consuming, desperate, a claim I'd been waiting a lifetime to stake. My hands slid into her hair, and I kissed her like she was oxygen and I'd been drowning.
She gasped against my lips and I swallowed the sound, pulling her closer until there was no space left between us. She tasted like tears and wine and something that felt like coming home.
Her fingers yanked my tie loose. Then she was attacking my shirt buttons with desperate urgency, and I groaned as her palms pressed flat against my bare chest.
"I've wanted this," I managed between kisses, "since the moment you walked back into my life."
"Then stop talking and show me."
I lifted her, her legs wrapping around my waist, and carried her to my desk. Swept it clear—papers scattering to the floor—and set her on the edge.
She pulled me between her thighs, and the heat of her nearly undid everything.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. Flushed. Breathless. The city lights caught in her hair, turning her into something ethereal.
"Are you sure? We can wait—"
"Aiden." She grabbed my shirt, pulled me back. Her eyes were dark with want. "I've waited five years. Five years wondering what your face looked like, five years dreaming about a stranger." Her voice broke beautifully. "I'm done waiting. I want you. Now. Please."
The "please" shattered my last restraint.
I kissed her like a man starving—her lips, her jaw, the curve of her throat where her pulse fluttered against my mouth. She arched into me, a sound escaping her that I would remember until I died. My hands found her zipper, drew it down slowly, peeling the fabric away like unwrapping something precious.
"You're so beautiful," I murmured against her skin. "Do you know what you do to me?"
Her answer was a whimper and her nails raking down my back.
We came together with all the desperation of that first night, but different now. This time I could see her face—watch her eyes flutter closed, learn her all over again with my eyes wide open. This time, she said my name—my real name—and it was the most beautiful word in any language.
"You're mine," I groaned against her throat. "Say it."
"I'm yours." She pulled my mouth back to hers. "I'm yours, I'm yours—"
I silenced her with a kiss that said everything words couldn't.
Afterward, we lay tangled on the leather couch, her head on my chest, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her bare shoulder. The city blazed beyond the windows like spilled diamonds. The silence between us was warm, satisfied, full of promise.
"So," I murmured into her hair, "does this mean we're officially together?"
She laughed—that bright, unrestrained laugh I'd fallen in love with five years ago. "I think it means a little more than that."
"Good." I pulled her closer, pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Because I'm not letting you go. Not again. Not ever."
She tilted her face up to mine, and I saw something new in her eyes. Peace. Certainty.
"I love you," she whispered. The words were shy still, testing themselves out. "I think I've loved you since that night."
"You found me." I kissed her softly. "That's all that matters."
We dressed slowly, stealing kisses between buttons and zippers. Her phone buzzed—the babysitter.
"I should go," she said reluctantly. "The kids..."
"I know." I caught her hand, kissed her knuckles. "Can I come by tomorrow? Make them breakfast?"
Her smile was radiant. "They'd like that. I'd like that."
One more kiss at the elevator—long, sweet, full of promise. I watched the doors close, watched her disappear, and felt certainty settle into my bones. Whatever came next, we'd face it together.
I was walking back to my office when my phone buzzed.
A forwarded message from Elara. Unknown number.
"I know what really happened that night. Meet me tomorrow. Bring Aiden. - Michael"
I stared at the screen, the warmth of the last hour evaporating.
What did Michael know?
And why did this feel like the other shoe finally dropping?