Mabel didn’t turn toward him, but she didn’t leave either. “Say what you came to say.”
Damian went straight to the point. “Lily is my daughter, isn’t she?”
Mabel placed her sewing kit on her lap. “Yes.”
The answer came so quickly and without embellishment that it hurt more deeply than any emotional outburst could have.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Mabel?” Damian asked, his voice raw. “Why didn’t you find me?”
Mabel gave a dry, hollow laugh. “Find you where, Damian? You changed your private cell number, moved your corporate offices, and built a wall of receptionists around yourself. Years before that, when I was struggling, I tried reaching out through your old contacts and you never replied. When I discovered I was pregnant four years ago, I had just been publicly branded a thief. I had no job, no savings, and no reputation. I wasn’t going to crawl across Texas begging a man who always found a convenient reason to leave.”
Damian lowered his head. He had nothing with which to defend himself.
“I want to be in her life,” he said softly.
“You don’t get to show up with your billions and decide you’re a father overnight.”
“I’m not trying to buy her, Mabel.”
“Then prove you know how to stay.”
That one sentence became his absolute, non-negotiable directive.
Damian immediately completed the county land deal, established a permanent residence nearby, and reorganized his corporate schedule so he could spend most of his time in town. He visited Lily in public parks, brought children’s books rather than extravagant presents, spent hours playing with her on the grass, and carefully respected every boundary Mabel established.
