Where Darkness Learned Breath by Rylor Dusk 84

84 Chapter 84: First Crack in 

Her Armor 

Aria’s POVO 

“The past where you threw me out while pregnant?” I kept my voice low level. “Or the past where you chose Vivian over me? Which part should I forget?” 

“I know we made mistakes” 

“Mistakes.” I laughed bitterly. “Is that what we’re calling it now?” 

“Please, Aria.” Now she sounded desperate. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But Noah is my grandson, i just want to meet him. Once. 

Just once.” 

Something about her tone set off alarm bells. Eleanor Monroe never begged. Never showed vulnerability unless she wanted something. 

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“Why now?” I asked. “Why after all this years of 

silence?” 

“Because I saw the news. About Marcus, about 

the threats.” She took a breath. “Because I’m getting older and I realized–family is all that matters and I threw mine away.” 

It sounded genuine. “I need to think about it,” I said finally. 

“Of course. Take all the time you need.” She paused. “I’m staying at the Grandview Hotel, Room 412 incase you you change your mind.” 

She hung up before I could respond. I sat there, staring at my phone, trying to process what just happened. 

“Your mother?” Damien’s voice made me jump. He stood in the doorway, two coffee cups in hand. 

“How did you know?” 

“You have the same expression Noah gets when 

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he’s trying to figure out if broccoli is secretly 

poison.” He handed me a cup. “What did she 

want?” 

“To meet Noah, to reconcile.” I took a sip, grateful for the warmth. “To suddenly play grandmother after abandoning us.” 

“And you said?” 

“That I’d think about it.” I set down the cup. 

“Which is more than she deserves.” 

Damien sat on the edge of the desk, his posture deceptively casual for a man who looked ready to wage war on my behalf. “What does your gut tell 

you?” 

I crossed my arms, fingers digging into my biceps. “That she wants something. Eleanor Monroe doesn’t do anything without a motive.” 

He was quiet for a moment, studying me with those ice–blue eyes that had once been so cruel 

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and now looked at me with something dangerously close to tenderness. 

“I know I should be the last person saying all this,” he said finally, his voice low. “Because I am not perfect. In fact, I was the person who caused you the most pain.” He paused, and I watched his throat work as he swallowed. “But if you don’t feel comfortable, then don’t see her.” 

My chest tightened. “It’s not that simple” 

“Yes, it is.” He shrugged, but there was nothing casual about the intensity in his gaze. “You don’t owe her anything.” 

“I know that.” But even as I said it, something nagged at me–that old, familiar pull of daughterly obligation I couldn’t quite shake. “But what if she’s genuine? What if she really does want to make amends?” 

“Then she can wait until you’re ready.” His hand found mine, warm and solid, and I hated how 

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much comfort that simple touch brought me. 

“Aria, you’ve been through hell. You don’t need to add your mother to the mix right now.” 

He was right. I knew he was right. 

So why did I feel guilty? 

I pulled my hand back, creating distance. “That’s rich, coming from you.” The words came out sharper than I intended, but I pressed on anyway. “You’re telling me to cut off toxic family when you spent a years believing your father’s 

programming about relationships, about me.” 

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. For a moment, I thought I’d gone too far- that I’d pushed him back behind those impenetrable walls he’d spent years building. 

But then his shoulders dropped, and something 

raw flickered across his face. 

“Exactly,” he said quietly. “That’s how I know what 

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it costs.” 

I wanted to be angry at him for the irony of it all— for having the audacity to give me advice about family when his own father had turned him into 

an emotional wasteland. When he’d let that 

programming destroy us. 

But the sincerity in his voice stopped me cold. 

“Damien” 

“I let my father’s words ruin the best thing that ever happened to me,” he continued, and his voice was barely above a whisper now. “I let him convince me that feeling anything was weakness. That loving someone was a trap instead of a gift. And when I finally woke up, you were gone.” His eyes met mine, and the regret there was so 

palpable it almost hurt to look at. “I know toxic family, Aria. I know how they make you question yourself, how they twist your reality until you don’t trust your own instincts anymore. And I 

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know that if Eleanor is anything like my father, she’ll use that guilt you’re feeling right now as a 

weapon.” 

I wanted to argue. To tell him he was being paranoid, that my mother couldn’t possibly be that calculating. 

But the words wouldn’t come. 

Because he was right. And deep down, I’d always 

known it. 

“I hate that you make sense right now,” I admitted, my voice small. 

The corner of his mouth lifted—not quite a smile, but something softer than his usual stern expression. “I hate that I have to be the voice of reason about family dysfunction. Believe me, the irony isn’t lost on me.” 

Despite everything, I almost laughed. Almost. 

“So what do I do?” I asked. “Just… ignore her?” 

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“You do what feels right for you,” he said. “But you 

do it on your terms, when you’re ready. Not because she showed up and made you feel obligated.” He stood, closing some of the distance between us. “You’ve spent years building a life where no one gets to control you anymore. Don’t give that power back to her just because she shares your DNA.” 

I studied his face–the sharp jawline, the controlled expression that was slowly learning to crack, the eyes that had once looked at me with cold indifference and now held something that terrified me more than his past cruelty ever did. 

Hope. 

“Okay,” I said finally. “I’ll think about it. But on my 

timeline.” 

“That’s all I’m asking.” He hesitated, then added, “And Aria? Whatever you decide… I’m here. Not to influence your choice, just… to be here.” 

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7 

I nodded, not trusting my voice. 

Because the most dangerous thing about Damien Blackwood’s redemption arc wasn’t that he might fail. 

It was that he might actually succeed. And I didn’t know if I was strong enough to survive falling for him twice. 

That Afternoon – 

I was helping Noah build a blanket fort in the living room when the front desk called up. 

“Ms. Monroe? There’s a woman here to see you. She says she’s your sister?” 

My blood ran cold. “Tell her I’m not available.” 

“I already did, ma’am. She says she’ll wait. She’s 

been here for two hours.” 

Two hours. Vivian had been sitting in the lobby for two hours. 

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“I’ll be right down.” I hung up and looked at 

Damien, who was working on his laptop nearby. “Vivian’s downstairs.” 

His head snapped up, and I watched the color drain from his face. “What?” 

“She’s been waiting for two hours apparently.” I grabbed my phone, studying his reaction. “I’m going to go down there and tell her to leave.” 

“Not alone, you’re not.” He was already standing, but there was tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “Noah, buddy, can you stay with Mrs. Dora for a few minutes?” 

“Can I bring my fort to the kitchen?” Noah looked up hopefully. 

“You can build it anywhere you want.” Damien called for the housekeeper. “Just stay inside, okay?” 

“Okay!” Noah went back to his construction 

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project. 

Mrs. Dora arrived and we headed for the elevator. 

My stomach churned the entire way down, but not just from the thought of facing Vivian. 

“You seem nervous,” I said, watching Damien’s reflection in the polished elevator doors. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” The doors opened, and I stepped out first. “Or maybe you just don’t want 

to face her.” 

His jaw tightened. “Aria” 

“Do you two still have unfinished history you’d like to continue?” The words came out sharper than I intended, laced with a bitterness I couldn’t quite suppress. 

He stopped walking, and when I turned back, his head was hanging, shame written across every line of his body. “You know that’s not” 

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“Do I?” I crossed my arms. “Because right now, 

you 

look like a man who doesn’t want to be in the same room with his former lover, which makes me wonder why.” 

“Because I’m ashamed.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Because seeing her reminds me of who I was. What I did to you. And I” He swallowed hard. “I can’t face that right now.” 

The raw honesty in his admission caught me off guard. For a moment, I almost reached for him. 

Instead, I nodded toward the stairs. “Then go. I’ll handle this myself.” 

“I don’t want to leave you” 

“I said go, Damien.” I softened my tone slightly. “I need to do this alone anyway. And clearly, you 

need to not be here.” 

He looked like he wanted to argue, but finally nodded and turned toward the stairwell that led 

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back up. His shoulders were hunched, defeated in a way I’d never seen from the great Damien Blackwood. 

I watched him disappear, then took a steadying breath and walked into the lobby. 

Vivian sat in the lobby, looking perfectly polished in a designer dress and heels. When she saw me, she stood, her expression a mix of hope and 

anxiety. 

“Aria.” She took a step forward, then glanced around. “Thank you for coming down. Is 

Damien…?” 

“He’s not here,” I said flatly. “What do you want?” 

Her face flickered with something- 

disappointment? Relief? I couldn’t tell. “To talk. 

Please.” 

“Talk, then.” I crossed my arms. “But make it fast.” 

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