Chapter 9
Apr 30, 2025
Damon’s POV
I stared at her like she was a ghost.
Miranda Steven.
No. Kayla Domingo.
Miranda was what she said on the phone. That was the name listed in the will. But the woman standing in front of me right now… she was my secretary.
“Wait,” I said, stepping toward her before she could escape. “Don’t go.”
She paused, shoulders tense. Slowly, she turned around.
“I need answers,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Please. Sit.”
For a moment, she hesitated. Then she sighed, walked back to the table, and sat down. I followed.
The tension was thick. I could barely look at her without questioning every single interaction we’d ever had.
“You lied to me,” I said flatly, arms folded across my chest.
She tilted her head. “No, I didn’t.”
I gave a dry chuckle. “Don’t insult my intelligence. You were my secretary for a day, and I knew you as Kayla Domingo. Not Miranda Steven.”
She didn’t flinch. She simply held my gaze. “That’s because I was Kayla Domingo. To you. To the company. But Miranda Steven is my real name.”
I leaned forward slightly, my voice dropping. “Then explain.”
She didn’t.
Instead, she narrowed her eyes. “You want to talk about false identities? Let’s talk about you. You were Jeremiah Aldridge. My boss. Now suddenly, you’re Damon Aldridge—the elusive heir to the Aldridge Group? The man I’m supposedly arranged to marry?”
Touché.
I couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, but it faded quickly.
“So we were both lying,” I said, my tone carefully neutral.
“Not lying,” she corrected. “Just… hiding.”
I sat back in my chair, drumming my fingers against the table. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why the fake name, the secrecy, the pretending?”
She shrugged. “I had my reasons. You clearly did too.”
And there it was. The unspoken stalemate. Neither of us willing to fully expose the cards we held.
“Look,” I sighed. “I’m not going to ask again. Clearly, we both had reasons for hiding who we really were.”
She nodded slowly. “Fair enough.”
We sat in silence for a while, letting that truth settle between us.
“So,” I said eventually, “this arrangement. The will. The whole ridiculous marriage setup—”
“I’m not doing it,” she cut in.
That took me aback. “You’re not?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. I’m not marrying someone just because some old man with a pen thought it’d be a good idea.”
I chuckled, the tension in my chest loosening slightly. “Glad we agree on that.”
She offered a small smile. “So, what do we do?”
I exhaled. “I plan to contest it. My legal team is already reviewing the clauses.”
She leaned forward. “You’re doing this for the inheritance, right?”
I nodded.
“You really don’t want the inheritance?” She asked, peering at me.
“It’s not that simple,” I replied. “The company’s board is a mess. My father’s death triggered a power vacuum. I need control to clean things up. And unfortunately, the only way to get that is through this marriage.”
Her smile faded. “So, you do need it.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But I’m not about to marry…”
She stared down at the table for a moment, then looked up. Her eyes were serious now, softer somehow as she cut in. “I’m only considering it because of my grandfather.”
I blinked. “Your grandfather?”
She nodded. “I told you he was dying. It was his final wish to see me secure before he goes. He believed this marriage would do that.”
I leaned back in my seat, letting her words sink in. “So you’re considering going through with it? Just like that?”
“I didn’t say that,” she said. “I said I’m considering it. I haven’t decided yet.”
I nodded slowly. “I see.”
We both fell silent again, the weight of our situations crashing down on us like a thundercloud over our heads.
“You know,” I said after a while, “for what it’s worth, you were a damn good assistant for one day. Every document you worked on before you left made things easier for me.”
She smiled faintly. “For what it’s worth, you were a tolerable boss.”
I laughed. It was unexpected, but it felt good.
Who would’ve thought the woman I argued and almost insulted on my first day would turn out to be the same woman fate had chosen for me?
“I still can’t believe this,” I murmured.
“Me neither.”
“And your name…” I looked at her, still trying to piece everything together. “Miranda Steven?”
“Yes. I used my mother’s maiden name when I applied to the company. Kayla Domingo is a name I used to keep my professional life separate from… this.”
“This,” I echoed with a smirk.
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get smug. You did the same thing.”
I raised my hands in surrender. “Guilty.”
“I didn’t expect this to be so complicated,” she said softly.
“Neither did I.”
I watched her for a long moment. She was composed. Calm. Poised. Just like always. But now that I knew the truth, she seemed different. Realer somehow. Not just an assistant or a name in a will, but a person with depth, with family, with reasons.
If I had checked the folder when Marcus gave it to me, I’d have known it was Kayla.
