Page 41 of Secret Baby for a Damaged Billionaire

That’s it. I can’t take it anymore. As soon as he shifted his foul mouth to her, my mission became very clear.

My fists clench as white-hot fury courses through me, and I lunge at him. Our bodies collide, and we grapple with each other, both of us highly trained black belts refusing to tap out. And right now, there’s no refined technique or strategic finesse, it’s all raw anger and adrenaline.

As we roll and twist on the mat, I manage to get the upper hand, trapping Carlo in a chokehold. But he quickly counters, slipping free and forcing me into a defensive position. Our limbs become a tangled mess as we continue to trade blows, each of us fighting for dominance.

The other fighters in the gym gather around us, their expressions filled with shock as they watch their mentors battle it out. They hover at the edge of the mat, unsure whether to intervene or let us continue. Some call out encouragement, while others just stare, unsure of what to make of the situation.

In the midst of the chaos, my thoughts race. What the hell am I doing? This isn’t me. I’m not some hot-headed brawler who loses control at such ridiculous provocation. I need to regain control, but it feels nearly impossible with every fiber of my being screaming for blood.

My focus narrows to just me and Carlo, each strike, grapple, and countermove a war between rivals. Sweat pours from my brow, and my muscles scream with exertion, but the pain only fuels my determination to win. My inner thoughts are a swirling mix of anger and fear, but I don’t dare let them surface.

And then, as I narrowly dodge another of Carlo’s strikes, something inside me snaps. Suddenly, I’m not in the gym anymore—I’m back in the heat of combat, surrounded by the sounds of gunfire and chaos. My heart races, threatening to burst from my chest, and I struggle to breathe.

“Lucas, stop!” Emily shouts again, her voice desperate. But I can’t hear her over the pounding of my heart and the thunder of adrenaline coursing through my veins. Her eyes are wide with concern, and it’s enough to remind me of what’s at stake.

Carlo takes advantage of my momentary lapse in concentration, landing a solid blow to my ribs. I wince but manage to counter with a well-placed knee strike, sending him sprawling. As he struggles to regain his footing, I force myself to step back, breathing heavily.

I barely register Xavier’s strong grip on my arm as he pulls me away from the mat.

I glance over at Carlo, panting and battered, and the reality of what I’d allowed to happen begins to sink in, and I feel a wave of shame wash over me.

“Enough,” I pant, my body aching from the intense exchange. “Get the fuck out of my gym, Carlo. And if you ever”—I jab a finger in his direction—“come near Emily or try to sabotage my business again, I promise you won’t walk away so easily.”

He glares at me, rage still burning in his eyes, but finally relents, limping toward the door as his posse follows suit. He turns one last time and shouts, “I told you he was crazy!”

As the gym doors slam shut behind them, I let out a long exhale, feeling the weight of my actions pressing down on me.

“Lucas,” Emily says softly, checking on my condition, knowing it has nothing to do with my physical well-being. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I admit, shaking. “I’m not.”

#

Sitting on the bench outside the gym, Emily encourages me to take deep breaths of fresh air, but the familiar symptoms hit me like a tidal wave. My heart pounds wildly, sweat dripping down my back. The sounds of the fight echo in my head, Carlo’s taunts mingling with the ghostly screams of comrades lost long ago.

I grip Emily’s shoulder, the solid warmth of her body is the only thing anchoring me to the present. She wraps an arm around my waist, murmuring soothing words I can’t quite make out over the rushing in my ears.

Xavier comes out a few minutes later, worry etched into the frown on his usually cheerful face. “Boss, you alright?”

I give a jerky nod, not trusting my voice. He sees right through it, though, having been with me through some of my worst episodes. He’s a steady presence offering silent support.

“Do you need me to call your doctor?” Emily asks softly. “They might have a solution to help you relax.”

I shake my head, spine rigid as I fight the urge to hide until the panic passes.

And in the same breath, Carlo and his fighters emerge from the side of the parking lot, all sneers and jeers. “Looks like you need a stretcher, old man!” Carlo calls. “PTSD acting up again? Maybe it’s time to pack it in!”

Red haze clouds my vision from the taunts, rage boiling up to replace the fear. I surge forward but Emily and Xavier catch me before I can pummel Carlo’s smug face.

“Lucas, no!” Emily yells, grabbing my arm and yanking me back with surprising force. I stumble, the sudden motion jolting me out of the flashback’s grip.

Chest heaving, I stare at my clenched fist as the anger drains away, leaving me shaken. Carlo’s laughter fades into the distance as he walks away, but the damage is already done. I’ve given him exactly what he wanted, proof of my instability for the world to see.

“Asshole,” Xavier murmurs, walking with Emily and me toward my SUV.

Emily opens the passenger door, concern etched on her brow. “I’m taking you home,” she says firmly, leaving no room for argument. Not that I have the energy to protest.

The familiar rumble of the engine soothes my frayed nerves during the drive to my apartment. We ride in silence as I continue my attempt to gain control. When we enter my building, Emily stays by my side, keeping a steadying hand on my arm as we ride the elevator to the penthouse.

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