Page 223 of My Ruthless Husband

“He shouldn’t have fallen in love with my wife.”

I roll my eyes, frustrated that he refuses to feel guilty about hitting Matt. Damian doesn’t do guilt. Not when it’s about something or someone he sees as his. I’ve accepted it. So, I let it go. For now. There’s something more important I need to address. About Matt’s testimony.

Damian remains silent the whole time, not a single muscle in his body shifting as I speak. He absorbs everything, his eyes never leaving me. The only thing that betrays the turmoil inside him is the subtle tightening of his arm around me.

“He wants to help. He is willing to testify against them.”

Damian nods once. “I’m grateful.”

I bring his face to mine, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then wrap my arms around him in a protective embrace.

But then I freeze, suddenly remembering something. Damian notices immediately, pulling back to look at me, concern flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I... I didn’t get my birth control shot.”

His brow furrows. “So?”

“So? I could get pregnant.”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, “You don’t want my baby?”

My gaze sharpens as I look at him. “You know I do. More than anything. But you’re the one who insisted on the shot every time.”

He hesitates, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then his voice softens, laced with uncertainty. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to have my children after you learned about my past…”

The words hit me like a cold splash of water. I pull back, my chest tight with a mixture of shock and hurt. “Damian, how could you think that?” My voice cracks, my eyes stinging.

He reaches for me, but I resist, struggling against him for a moment before I let him pull me into his chest. I bury my face there, trying to find some comfort in the familiar warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

“I hate you,” I mumble against him, the words coming out softer than I mean them to.

“I know,” he says, the tiniest hint of amusement in his voice. “But I love you.”

I pull away just enough to look at him, still angry, but the tenderness in his eyes makes it hard to stay mad. He kisses the tip of my nose, and I feel a smile tug at my lips.

“Why haven’t you gone back to using Sabatino again?”

“Because the name Sabatino belongs to a version of me that’s long gone. I’m not that person anymore.”

“I don’t give a damn if you’re a Sabatino or a Montgomery. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

“I am,” he growls, leaning in to kiss me.

Someone coughs loudly, startling us both. Damian and I jerk apart and find Mrs. Hawthorne standing in the doorway of the guestroom.

“Yes, Mrs. Hawthorne?” Damian’s voice is clipped with irritation. I nudge him with my elbow, silently urging him to be more polite.

“Your friend, Matt, is here to see you,” she says, and I can feel the shift in Damian’s posture. His body stiffens.

“I’ll be right there,” I say quickly, standing up. Damian follows me, his presence looming close, as always.

“Matt,” I call out as I step into the living room.

He turns, offering me a small, warm smile, but it fades when he notices Damian standing behind me.

I wince when I see a bruise shadowing his jaw.

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