His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 15: Chapter 15
You are reading His Heir, Her Secret, Chapter 15: Chapter 15. Read more chapters of His Heir, Her Secret.
Lucien
There are moments in life that split you in two.
Before Isla told me about Leo, I was a man with regrets but no anchor. I carried guilt like a stone in my pocket, something I could keep hidden as long as I didn’t look down. But now? Now the guilt had a face. A name. A laugh that sounded like mine when he got excited.
Leo.
My son.
I hadn’t known what to do with that truth the first time I saw him. It hit me like a fist to the chest, followed by a freefall of everything I’d missed. The milestones, the nights he’d cried himself to sleep, the tiny victories, the scraped knees, the birthdays.
And Isla—she’d done it all alone.
I sat in the back of my car after leaving the café, the city lights casting flickers across the windshield, and I didn’t move. My driver waited, silent, as I replayed every word she’d said.
“This can’t be temporary. If you walk into his life, you’re staying.”
She was right to say it. She was right to demand it.
I had walked away once. That alone should’ve disqualified me from fatherhood. But I wasn’t the same man who left her in that apartment five years ago. Back then, I thought power came from distance—emotionless choices, clear lines, and control.
But love doesn’t live in clean lines.
It lives in the mess.
The next morning, I was standing outside the school gate at exactly 3:10 p.m.
I wore jeans instead of my usual suit, and I left the car parked two blocks away. I didn’t want Leo stepping outside and seeing a fleet of security guards or a tinted luxury car with a driver in a suit. I wanted to be just Dad, whatever that meant to him right now.
Kids trickled out in waves, some running, some dragging their feet, backpacks bumping against tiny spines.
Then I saw him.
Leo walked out holding a paper dragon. His coat was unzipped, hair messy, cheeks flushed with the glow of the day. He was talking animatedly to another boy who handed him a crumpled snack wrapper. Leo laughed and pocketed it like it was treasure.
My heart swelled and cracked all at once.
“Leo,” I called softly.
He turned, his face lighting up instantly. “Mr. Lucien!”
I crouched to his level as he barreled toward me.
“You came!”
“I told you I would, didn’t I?” I said, smiling as he crashed into my arms.
He wrapped his arms around my neck like he’d known me for years, not just days. Kids are resilient like that. They don’t ask for explanations, only presence. Only consistency.
“Can we go get ice cream?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Your mom said that’s okay?”
He looked guilty for half a second.
“She said no sugar before dinner… but she didn’t say no ice cream.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s some very specific logic.”
He grinned.
And just like that, we were walking side by side down the block, him chattering about dragons and math and how some kid named Benny tried to trade him a broken toy car for his Pokémon card.
I listened. Really listened.
And for the first time in years, I wasn’t checking emails in my mind or thinking about meetings or boardroom strategies. I was just here.
Present.
After ice cream, I walked him back to Isla’s apartment. She met us at the door, brows slightly furrowed until she saw his happy face and the napkin I’d used to clean the chocolate off his shirt.
“Hi,” she said, voice cautious.
“Hi,” I replied. “We stuck to one scoop. Strawberry. He negotiated sprinkles.”
Isla gave me a reluctant smile. “He’s very good at negotiations.”
“He gets that from you.”
Leo ran inside, already yelling something about his paper dragon getting bent.
She stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door half-closed behind her. “Thank you. For showing up.”
“I’ll keep showing up.”
She nodded, eyes searching mine. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”
“I’m good with that.”
There was a beat of quiet between us.
Then she said, “Lucien… what do you want from this? Really?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I want to know my son. I want to earn your trust again. And I want a chance at the life we should’ve had if I hadn’t been so afraid the first time.”
She folded her arms, wary. “This isn’t going to be simple.”
“I don’t need simple,” I said. “I just need honest.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Then we start with Leo.”
“Agreed.”
She stepped back inside, and I stood in that hallway for another moment longer, breathing in the scent of her—vanilla and clean cotton—and feeling something shift inside me.
That night, I did something I hadn’t done in years.
I sat in my penthouse and started writing.
Not emails. Not reports.
Letters.
To Leo.
I didn’t know if I’d ever give them to him. But I needed to start somewhere. To put the truth on paper.
Dear Leo,
You don’t know me yet—not really. But I know you. And I want to know everything.
You like dragons and strawberry ice cream. You’re fearless on the monkey bars and terrible at lying. You keep your kindness close, like a secret weapon. And you make me want to be the kind of man who deserves you.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.
Love,
Dad
I signed it before I could second-guess myself.
And for the first time in five years, I didn’t feel like I was failing.
There are moments in life that split you in two.
Before Isla told me about Leo, I was a man with regrets but no anchor. I carried guilt like a stone in my pocket, something I could keep hidden as long as I didn’t look down. But now? Now the guilt had a face. A name. A laugh that sounded like mine when he got excited.
Leo.
My son.
I hadn’t known what to do with that truth the first time I saw him. It hit me like a fist to the chest, followed by a freefall of everything I’d missed. The milestones, the nights he’d cried himself to sleep, the tiny victories, the scraped knees, the birthdays.
And Isla—she’d done it all alone.
I sat in the back of my car after leaving the café, the city lights casting flickers across the windshield, and I didn’t move. My driver waited, silent, as I replayed every word she’d said.
“This can’t be temporary. If you walk into his life, you’re staying.”
She was right to say it. She was right to demand it.
I had walked away once. That alone should’ve disqualified me from fatherhood. But I wasn’t the same man who left her in that apartment five years ago. Back then, I thought power came from distance—emotionless choices, clear lines, and control.
But love doesn’t live in clean lines.
It lives in the mess.
The next morning, I was standing outside the school gate at exactly 3:10 p.m.
I wore jeans instead of my usual suit, and I left the car parked two blocks away. I didn’t want Leo stepping outside and seeing a fleet of security guards or a tinted luxury car with a driver in a suit. I wanted to be just Dad, whatever that meant to him right now.
Kids trickled out in waves, some running, some dragging their feet, backpacks bumping against tiny spines.
Then I saw him.
Leo walked out holding a paper dragon. His coat was unzipped, hair messy, cheeks flushed with the glow of the day. He was talking animatedly to another boy who handed him a crumpled snack wrapper. Leo laughed and pocketed it like it was treasure.
My heart swelled and cracked all at once.
“Leo,” I called softly.
He turned, his face lighting up instantly. “Mr. Lucien!”
I crouched to his level as he barreled toward me.
“You came!”
“I told you I would, didn’t I?” I said, smiling as he crashed into my arms.
He wrapped his arms around my neck like he’d known me for years, not just days. Kids are resilient like that. They don’t ask for explanations, only presence. Only consistency.
“Can we go get ice cream?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “Your mom said that’s okay?”
He looked guilty for half a second.
“She said no sugar before dinner… but she didn’t say no ice cream.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s some very specific logic.”
He grinned.
And just like that, we were walking side by side down the block, him chattering about dragons and math and how some kid named Benny tried to trade him a broken toy car for his Pokémon card.
I listened. Really listened.
And for the first time in years, I wasn’t checking emails in my mind or thinking about meetings or boardroom strategies. I was just here.
Present.
After ice cream, I walked him back to Isla’s apartment. She met us at the door, brows slightly furrowed until she saw his happy face and the napkin I’d used to clean the chocolate off his shirt.
“Hi,” she said, voice cautious.
“Hi,” I replied. “We stuck to one scoop. Strawberry. He negotiated sprinkles.”
Isla gave me a reluctant smile. “He’s very good at negotiations.”
“He gets that from you.”
Leo ran inside, already yelling something about his paper dragon getting bent.
She stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door half-closed behind her. “Thank you. For showing up.”
“I’ll keep showing up.”
She nodded, eyes searching mine. “We’ll take it one day at a time.”
“I’m good with that.”
There was a beat of quiet between us.
Then she said, “Lucien… what do you want from this? Really?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“I want to know my son. I want to earn your trust again. And I want a chance at the life we should’ve had if I hadn’t been so afraid the first time.”
She folded her arms, wary. “This isn’t going to be simple.”
“I don’t need simple,” I said. “I just need honest.”
Her shoulders relaxed a little. “Then we start with Leo.”
“Agreed.”
She stepped back inside, and I stood in that hallway for another moment longer, breathing in the scent of her—vanilla and clean cotton—and feeling something shift inside me.
That night, I did something I hadn’t done in years.
I sat in my penthouse and started writing.
Not emails. Not reports.
Letters.
To Leo.
I didn’t know if I’d ever give them to him. But I needed to start somewhere. To put the truth on paper.
Dear Leo,
You don’t know me yet—not really. But I know you. And I want to know everything.
You like dragons and strawberry ice cream. You’re fearless on the monkey bars and terrible at lying. You keep your kindness close, like a secret weapon. And you make me want to be the kind of man who deserves you.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.
Love,
Dad
I signed it before I could second-guess myself.
And for the first time in five years, I didn’t feel like I was failing.
End of His Heir, Her Secret Chapter 15. Continue reading Chapter 16 or return to His Heir, Her Secret book page.