13. Mrs. Knight
I hadn’t been the same since the night we locked Damian in the basement. It wasn’t the screams or the blood—it was the silence that followed. The kind of silence that seeps into your soul, settling like a heavy fog you can’t shake. Some nights, as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, I wanted to get up, grab my baby boy, and bring him out of that hellhole. But I knew if I did, I’d end up right down there with him.
I tried not to dwell on the thought too much. Damian had made his choices, but that didn’t stop the ache in my chest every time I thought about him hanging from those chains. I wished the courts had given him life in the mental facility after his first stint there. Ten years wasn’t enough. At least there, he would’ve been out of trouble.
The truth was, I blamed myself for the way both of my boys turned out. I should’ve never let Roman groom them for this life, but I knew what I was signing up for when I married him. I loved Roman, but I wished we’d gone a different route with our boys, the same way we had with our daughters. My girls were thriving, focused on their lives, but my sons? They were raised in chaos, and I couldn’t ignore my role in that.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
Asya, my assistant, stepped into my office, holding a box in her perfectly manicured hands. “Mrs. Knight, the DNA test kit for the baby came in.”
I straightened in my chair, taking the envelope from her. “Thank you, Asya.”
She nodded but hesitated at the door. “Is there anything else you need before I step out?”
I shook my head. “No, that’ll be all for now.”
As she left, I held the box in my hands, staring at it like it might explode. I’d been bonding with the baby these past few weeks, and I couldn’t help but see the family resemblance in him, but I needed to be sure. If he wasn’t blood, I didn’t want to raise him.
A few minutes later, another knock sounded at the door. This time, it was Damier.
He walked in, dressed immaculately in his work attire—a tailored navy suit, crisp white shirt, and a bouquet of colorful flowers in his hand. I stood and greeted him the way I always did, pulling him into a hug and kissing his forehead.
“You didn’t have to bring flowers, but thank you,” I said, placing them on my desk.
“Anything for you, Ma,” he replied, taking a seat across from me.
I slid the envelope across the desk. “It’s time to find out about the baby, Damier.”
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I know.”
I didn’t let him off easy. “You’ve been running from this. You love the act of sex, but you act like you don’t know what comes with it. Somewhere along the way, you fucked up, son. Now, you have to take care of it.”
He ran a hand down his face, looking more vulnerable than I’d seen him in a while. “After Arika and I were going through the divorce, I slept with a lot of women. Too many. There were nights I don’t even remember who I was with or if I used protection.”
I frowned, my disappointment evident. “You’re lucky you didn’t catch anything. But now, all that rock star billionaire shit has caught up with you. I’m glad you’re trying to settle down again, and I pray this one lasts forever.”
Before he could respond, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Come in,” I called.
The nanny, Marsha, entered, pushing a bassinet stroller with baby Donshay inside. She smiled politely, and I nodded at her. “Stay, Marsha. We’re doing the test now.”
She sat on the couch as I picked up the baby and handed him to Damier.
He cradled the baby carefully, his gaze softening as he looked down at him. “He doesn’t have my eyes,” he said after a moment. “He has Damian’s eyes. And Uncle Lucian’s. You know they have that same stare and those tighter eyes. Not like me, King, or Pops.”
I nodded. “I saw that, too.”
“But he looks like a Knight,” he added, his tone firm.
I prepped the swab, taking it from the kit and holding it out to him. “Let’s get this done.”
Damier held the baby steady as I swabbed the inside of his cheek, sealed the sample, and placed it back in the envelope.
“These tests take a few days,” I said, leaning back. “Even the rapid ones. Apparently, half of the country doesn’t know who the father is these days.”
He chuckled lightly, but the weight in his expression didn’t lift. I noticed how long he held the baby, playing with his tiny hands and gazing at him like he was trying to find answers in his small face.
Breaking the silence, he said, “I saw Donta, Dream’s brother, the other night. His words hit me hard.”
I tilted my head, waiting for him to continue.
“He told me he’s going to pass away soon. Imani mentioned some medicine that would lay him to rest peacefully since he is only going to get worse. Says that was his choice, and he is tired of suffering.”
The air in the room felt heavier. “That’s heartbreaking,” I quietly said. “I’ll visit Mrs. Jaxton tonight and see what’s going on.”
He nodded. “The Jaxtons are good people. Found out Mr. Jaxton worked with Pops back in the day.”
“I know,” I replied. “I’ll take care of everything for them.”
Finally, he placed the baby back in the bassinet stroller and leaned back in his chair.
“How do you feel about becoming a father?” I asked, studying his face.
He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know yet. I still want to find the mother.”
I waved a hand dismissively. “If that’s your baby, the mother shouldn’t matter. You and Dream can raise him as yours.”
He smirked but didn’t respond to what I said as he stood to leave.
“I’m heading out. I won’t see you for a few days. I’m taking Imani on vacation.”
As he walked out, I watched him closely, hoping this baby might bring him out of the darkness he’d been carrying for so long.
After the room emptied, I sat back in my chair, staring at the flowers on my desk. My thoughts drifted to Donshay, to the possibilities he could bring.
If this baby is his, maybe it’s the light my son needs.