Aurora didn't realize she was screaming until Maxwell gripped her shoulders.
"Ms. Lancaster—Aurora. Look at me."
She blinked, her ears ringing, the bloody stuffed elephant clutched in her hands. The warmth of it—no, not warmth. Just imagined heat. There was no actual blood. Not real blood.
It couldn't be real.
Maxwell knelt in front of her, voice calm but edged with urgency. "He's trying to scare you. It's psychological warfare. We've already started the security sweep."
Noah.
Her eyes flew open wide.
She bolted toward the hallway, lungs burning. "NOAH!"
She slammed the guest room door open, nearly tearing it off its hinges.
Noah stirred, yawning groggily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in the enormous bed. "Mommy? What's wrong?"
Aurora ran to him and pulled him into her arms so tightly that he whimpered.
"I'm okay," he murmured sleepily. "Did I do something bad?"
"No," she whispered fiercely, rocking him. "You did nothing wrong. You're perfect. You're safe. You're here."
He nestled into her, unaware of the storm brewing outside the walls that protected them.
Aurora pressed a kiss to his curls and looked up to find Maxwell in the doorway, phone in hand.
He nodded once. "It's started."
---
Damien slammed the folder onto the long conference table in the Blackwood Global boardroom.
"You think this company can survive Julian Blackwood?" he barked. "Let me be clear—he's been embezzling from our charity branches for years. We have proof. We have testimony. And as of this morning, he crossed from business into family. That's war."
A few board members shifted uncomfortably, glancing at each other. These were power brokers, sharks in suits who'd made careers on profit over principle. They weren't easily rattled. But Damien wasn't speaking as the CEO anymore—he was speaking as a man on the edge of personal destruction.
"I'm not asking for your loyalty out of sentiment," Damien continued, voice sharp as ice. "I'm giving you a choice. Either you back me now, and we cut Julian out for good—or you stay with him, and this company burns with him."
The room was silent for a beat. Then one hand rose. Then another.
A majority.
Damien nodded tightly. "Effective immediately, Julian Blackwood is suspended from all company functions and privileges pending a formal investigation."
A soft buzz came from his phone. He looked down.
Maxwell: Get back. Now.
Attached was a photo.
The elephant.
Blood-soaked. Staring. Innocent and horrifying.
Damien's blood turned to ice.
---
He was in the car within two minutes, barely listening to the security briefing his driver rattled off.
"Perimeter hasn't been breached," the driver said. "We believe the package was dropped via drone. Surveillance only caught partial visuals. Facial recognition pending—"
"Drive faster," Damien growled.
As the car weaved through midday traffic, Damien's mind flashed to Julian's smile. That smug, detached expression he'd worn even as their father's coffin was lowered into the ground.
Julian didn't care about legacy. About family.
He wanted control. And he'd burn everything around him to have it.
This wasn't just a move on the company anymore.
Julian had declared open war.
---
Aurora sat on the edge of her bed, the elephant now sealed in a plastic evidence bag. Her hands were still shaking.
Maxwell paced the room, phone glued to his ear, barking commands into a secure line.
"We need drone surveillance blocked within a five-mile radius. Lock down the airspace if we have to."
Aurora stared at her hands. "He knows we're here."
Maxwell glanced at her. "He doesn't know how tight our systems are. He's trying to rattle you."
"Well, it's working," she muttered bitterly. "I don't care how many guards you station—what if he tries to take Noah in broad daylight? What if he poisons our food? What if—"
Her voice cracked.
She didn't finish.
Maxwell softened, crouching in front of her. "We're not going to let that happen. Damien will be here soon. We're increasing everything. Tripling guards. New protocols. And if you want, I can move you both into the panic suite."
Aurora blinked. "The what?"
"It's built into the west wing of the penthouse. No windows. Reinforced steel. Complete with oxygen filtration, food, and internal comms. It was Damien's idea. Built after his father was nearly assassinated in Zurich."
She swallowed hard. "Let's go."
---
When Damien stormed into the penthouse, he found the main floor oddly quiet. The guards nodded grimly at his arrival.
Maxwell met him at the hall. "They're in the panic suite."
Damien's eyes widened. "You activated it?"
Maxwell nodded. "Your orders if there was any sign of real threat. Aurora insisted."
Damien exhaled sharply, pushing past him.
He opened the reinforced door and stepped into the suite.
The room was surprisingly warm—soft lighting, a muted rug, and a twin bed where Noah was curled up with a tablet, headphones on.
Aurora stood near the kitchenette, arms crossed, visibly trying not to come undone.
The moment she saw Damien, the strength cracked.
"You saw it?" she asked.
He nodded once.
Aurora crossed the room in three strides and threw her arms around him. For a moment, she didn't care how vulnerable it made her. She didn't care about pride or boundaries.
All she cared about was him.
Damien held her like he'd never let go again.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "This shouldn't have happened. I never should've let it get this far."
Aurora pulled back, eyes fierce. "Don't apologize. Just help me protect him. Protect us."
"I will," he swore. "Starting now."
---
That night, the penthouse was a fortress of motion.
Security teams doubled their patrols. Drones were deployed. Surveillance feeds monitored every inch of the exterior. Background checks were re-run on every single staff member.
Damien moved like a general preparing for war.
Aurora watched from the edge of it all, her stomach coiled in a permanent knot.
She sat in the study later that evening, reading through more of Damien's unsent letters. Each one was a confession. A timeline of heartache and longing.
He'd never moved on.
Neither had she.
She didn't even realize Damien had entered the room until he sat beside her, his fingers brushing hers gently.
"You found them," he murmured, glancing at the letters.
"I had no idea you wrote these."
"I didn't think I'd ever have the right to send them."
She looked up at him. "You still love me?"
His gaze was steady. "Yes. Every day. Even when I hated myself for it."
Aurora's throat tightened. "I never stopped either."
Damien leaned in slowly, giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
Their lips met, slow and soft and full of all the years between them.
The kiss deepened. Became a promise. A tether. A vow that no matter what came next—they were in it together.
---
Across the city, Julian stood in a blacked-out room filled with screens.
One of them displayed a paused image of Aurora, in Damien's study.
He tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair.
"She's stronger than I expected," he murmured.
A woman stood behind him, tablet in hand. "Should we initiate Phase Two?"
Julian smiled.
"Tomorrow," he said. "Let them sleep one more night thinking they're safe."
---
Back at the penthouse, Damien sat beside Aurora, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched Noah sleep.
"We're going to win," he whispered. "I'll make sure of it."
Aurora nodded, not because she fully believed it, but because she needed to.
"We're not leaving again," she said softly. "He deserves to know his father. He deserves to have a family."
Damien's arms tightened around her. "Then we'll give him one."
They sat in silence, watching over the boy who had unknowingly changed both their lives forever.
And as the wind howled beyond the glass, they braced for the next move.
Because the line had been crossed.
And war had come home.
---