Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Damian
I stood in the open kitchen of Wentworth Estate, feeling genuinely lost for the first time. I looked down at my white shirt, now completely covered in flour and frosting, and at the slightly ridiculous electric whisk still clenched tightly in my hand.
This was hands-down the most nerve-wracking day of my life. Because today was Ivy's birthday.
A year ago, at the surprise party Ivy had thrown for me, I hadn't even glanced at the cake. Instead, I'd brought Cecilia home right in front of everyone. Thinking back on it now, I wanted to slap the arrogant idiot I'd been.
Tonight, I had invited everyone from her new life—everyone who truly loved her—back to the manor.
I rolled up the sleeves of my white shirt to my elbows and turned down Mrs. Mackenzie and all the professional chefs who offered to help. I handled everything myself: washing vegetables, cutting meat, simmering soup, and baking the cake.
I finally understood just how much trouble it took to prepare the perfect birthday dinner, and how much love was required.
"Damian! The oven temperature seems too high! The edges of the raspberry tart are about to burn!"
Penny's voice rang out from the living room. She was standing on a high stool hanging colorful streamers across the ceiling while still managing to check on my dessert progress.
"Got it, turning it down now!"
I looked up from the counter in a slight panic, wiped the cold sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, and turned around—only to hear Lucas, who was arranging chairs nearby, burst out laughing. Damn it. I must have smeared flour on my cheek.
The living room was packed today. Ivy's parents sat a little awkwardly but happily in the center of the sofa.
My aunt, dressed in simple, elegant casual clothes, was cutting colorful balloons with the two new young employees from the bakery.
Almost the entire staff of "Oats & Flowers" from both Brooklyn and Manhattan had shown up with their families.
The once vast and empty living room was now filled with warmth and noise.
All of this had been arranged behind Ivy's back.
I wanted to make up for the love I owed her in the most sincere way possible—right here, in front of the family and friends she cherished most.
Back then, when she had hosted that dinner party, she'd been thinking about my social needs for work, while I couldn't even be bothered to give her a single glance.
So this time, I would personally create a warm party that belonged only to her.
"Done! The last foie gras and fig phyllo cup is finished!" I announced as I plated the final dish. At the same moment, the sound of a key turning came from the entrance.
"Shh—! Everyone, get into position! The birthday girl is back!" Penny whispered sharply, then switched off the main lights. The whole room fell into darkness as everyone held their breath.
The door opened slowly. Ivy stepped in against the backlight, holding a bag of samples she'd brought back from the shop. She looked puzzled as she entered the dark foyer. "Damian? Are you home? Why aren't any lights on?"
The living room suddenly blazed with the warm yellow glow of countless wall lamps and the bright fluorescent sticks held by the children.
"Happy Birthday!!"
Cheers and the sound of party poppers exploded at the same time. A shower of colorful confetti burst into the air and then rained down enthusiastically onto Ivy's hair and shoulders.
Ivy froze in the doorway. "Oh, everyone!"
She stared at the room full of balloons, covered her mouth when she saw her parents, then looked over at Penny, who was waving at her like crazy. Finally, her slightly reddened eyes moved through the crowd and settled on me, standing at the back.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, took a deep breath, and—under everyone's gaze—wheeled out a small serving cart from the kitchen a little clumsily.
She suddenly smiled, brushing the confetti from her hair as she walked toward me, her voice carrying an unmistakable note of teasing.
"Mr. Wentworth, did you secretly throw me a surprise party behind my back?"
"Happy Birthday, Ivy!" I said simply, then stopped. I could already feel the lump in my throat. If I kept talking, I was afraid my voice would crack and make everyone laugh.
I reached out and grabbed the large red cloth covering the cart. Whatever. Let them laugh. After one final mental pep talk, I yanked the cloth away with both hands.
The cake I had spent days preparing and carefully designing was finally revealed. I slowly pushed the cart with the massive cake toward her.
The moment everyone saw it, the lively living room fell strangely silent for three seconds—then erupted into even louder laughter than before.
It was far from perfect.
There were no elegant French fondant decorations or intricate lace borders. The white buttercream was uneven and lumpy, and the left side had even caved in slightly. I swore I had baked multiple cake layers, but I still couldn't get a perfectly round shape. A few edges were even slightly burnt.
In the center, written in somewhat crooked strawberry jam, were the words: Happy Birthday.
"You... made this?" Ivy stepped closer, her eyes sparkling as she looked at me.
"Yeah, I did. Lucas taught me, of course. It took him forever," I admitted, rubbing my nose in embarrassment, my voice soft. "Ivy, even though it's not perfect... would you cut it?"
"Of course. It's already perfect, darling."
Ivy came over first and kissed me gently on the cheek. Then she took the silver cake knife I handed her and, under everyone's watchful eyes, carefully sliced into the cake along the sunken edge.
The knife hit something hard in the very center of the cake.
Ivy paused.
She looked up at me in confusion. Following my encouraging nod, she set the knife down and carefully parted the thick, uneven layer of white frosting.
A hard box wrapped in clear plastic wrap gradually came into view.
Penny whistled from the side. "Open it quick! Let's see what surprise Damian prepared for you!"
Her words eased Ivy's nervousness. She lifted the box out gently, tore off the plastic, and opened the lid.
In that instant, the dimly lit living room seemed to be illuminated by a beam of light from the Arctic.
It was a ring.
It wasn't set with one of those vulgar, large-carat white diamonds from Manhattan that screamed status and ostentation.
Instead, it featured a rare, vibrant light-green gemstone—one I had searched for a long time to find at a top-tier auction.
The color was incredibly pure, just like Ivy's clear, genuine eyes.
Ivy's fingers trembled as she picked up the warm ring.
The moment she looked up at me, eyes full of disbelief and tears—
I had completely abandoned any remaining Wentworth pride. In the center of the hall, in front of everyone, I slowly dropped to one knee before her.
Ivy took a step back, and the once-noisy room fell silent. I looked up, gazing steadily at the face that was already deeply engraved in my heart.
"Miss Ivy Sinclair."
As soon as I spoke, I realized my voice was shaking badly, and my palms were covered in cold sweat.
"Three years ago, in this same spot, I put a ten-million-dollar ring on your finger and made you marry me.
But that ring was a shackle—for the sake of the so-called Wentworth family's reputation, to satisfy my selfish need for control and possession. It was a punishment I forced on you."
"Back then, I was a complete asshole. I didn't know how to be a proper husband. I didn't even... know how to love someone."
I paused, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill, and cleared my hoarse throat.
"I thought giving you luxury items and keeping you safe in this manor was love. I was even arrogant enough to believe you would never leave me... until I lost you. Until I watched you in Brooklyn gradually become your true, radiant self. It took me this long to finally understand—"
"Love isn't possession. It isn't condescending charity. It isn't control disguised as affection. Love... is wanting to see you smile. It's wanting you to be the most authentic, best version of yourself in this world.
"In the days to come, I will use everything I have to cherish you and protect you. I will become better. I'll learn how to be a good father and a man who truly understands how to love you. Ivy... will you give this once-mistaken man one last chance?"
I held my breath, watching her anxiously.
Her eyes were already red and swollen, but she didn't answer right away. She looked down at the box in her hand, glanced at her friends nearby, and finally turned her gaze back to me.
The long silence filled me with intense disappointment, but it was okay, Damian. As long as—
"Yes, Damian."
Just when I thought I had failed, her tearful voice struck straight into my heart.
I looked up, trembling, and saw her slowly but firmly extend her left hand toward me.
Her eyes were filled with love.
For a moment, I froze, overwhelmed. But instinct took over. I gently slipped the light-green gemstone ring onto her ring finger, then rose from the floor and pulled her fiercely into my arms.
"Oh my God! He did it! Kiss her!!"
Penny and the staff's screams and applause erupted like a tidal wave, rocking the entire manor. Everyone clapped and cheered wildly, pushing the party's biggest surprise to a perfect climax.
Party poppers exploded again, sending ribbons flying everywhere. Ivy's mother buried her face in her father's shoulder, crying tears of joy. Even my usually stern aunt secretly wiped the corner of her eye. I held Ivy tightly, catching all of it in my peripheral vision.
For the first time, I realized how relaxing this kind of free, warm celebration was—unlike the cold business parties in Manhattan.
Lucas drank three whole bottles of whiskey and ended up discussing "the philosophical fusion of woodworking and desserts" with the newly appointed branch manager, making everyone laugh. Penny, slightly tipsy, chatted with Ivy's mother about her recent dating stories.
I never left Ivy's side the whole night.
Ignoring the teasing glances from others, I wrapped my arms around her from behind, holding her close as we toasted every employee and cut into the slightly lopsided but incredibly sweet homemade cake together.
The lights flickered warmly. Laughter filled the air.
The most genuine smiles—ones I had never seen in Manhattan's high society—became the most perfect birthday gift for Ivy.
The celebration lasted late into the night. By the end, everyone was exhausted and sprawled across the sofas.
I arranged cars to send each person home safely.
Utterly drained, I lay half-reclined on the bedroom sofa with Ivy in my arms. Now, it was just the two of us.
Outside the window, a light rain began to fall. Fine droplets pattered against the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a soothing, rhythmic sound that completely separated our home from the chaotic world outside.
In the center of the table, the familiar little night lamp cast its familiar orange glow, gently stretching our shadows.
Our daughter, who had just turned one month old, slept peacefully in the black walnut cradle Lucas had hand-carved, sucking on her tiny pink fist with soft, sweet breaths.
Ivy lay limply against my chest, her head tucked into my embrace, wrapped in the oat-colored cashmere blanket I had specially ordered for her.
"Damian," she murmured, her fingers gently tracing the light-green gem on her ring finger. Her voice was relaxed and content. "In the past, rain always made me feel cold. But for some reason, tonight it sounds like a lullaby. It makes me feel so peaceful."
I didn't say anything.
I simply lowered my head and kissed her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin. Then I tightened my arms, pulling both her and the cashmere blanket snugly against me, leaving no space between us.
"Because back then, the person beside you was an idiot, Ivy. He didn't know how to give you warmth."
I let out a satisfied sigh into her hair and gently stroked her hand.
"But now, the person beside you has sworn to protect and warm you for a lifetime. My love, this time, I will never let go. Never."
Ivy hummed softly and nestled deeper into my arms.
The warm light of the night lamp softly blended together the tiny life in the cradle and the two figures holding each other tightly on the sofa.
I squeezed her hand a little tighter, gazing at the fine rain outside the window, and made one final silent vow in my heart.
Ivy. This time, Damian Wentworth will never let go of your hand—not in this life, nor the next.
Dawn has come. The long night is over.
THE END