Lily woke crying because of the noise.
Damian reached his limit. “This house is unsafe, Mabel.”
“I know,” Mabel said, squeezing water from a towel.
“Let me rebuild it. Or let me buy a proper home for you two.”
Mabel immediately stiffened. “I will not live in a mansion bought out of guilt, Damian.”
“I’m not talking about guilt, and I’m not talking about you!” Damian said, pointing toward the bedroom where Lily slept. “I am her father. For three years, I didn’t contribute a single dollar because I didn’t know she existed. Now I know. I cannot watch a ceiling collapse near my daughter’s bed and pretend I’m ‘respecting your independence.’”
Mabel fell silent.
For the first time, she understood that allowing someone to support her child did not require her to sacrifice her dignity.
“Under one condition,” Mabel said finally. “Everything is documented legally as your parental financial obligation to Lily. No grand luxury estates. Just a safe, sturdy house.”
Damian smiled gently. “A blow to my billionaire ego, but I’ll survive.”
It was the first genuine laugh Mabel had shared with him since he came back.
They hired contractors to fully restore the cottage—strengthening the roof, repairing the foundation, replacing the plumbing, and making the entire structure secure. Damian honored every boundary Mabel established. There were no extravagant gestures—only safety, warmth, and stability.
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