His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Isla
The next morning, everything felt different—and not just because Lucien had walked me to my car like we were some couple in a slow-burn romance.
It was the quiet that struck me first.
The stillness before Leo woke up. The kind of calm where memories from the night before wrapped around you like silk you didn’t ask for, but didn’t want to remove either.
Lucien hadn’t kissed me.
He hadn’t even tried.
And somehow, that rattled me more than if he had.
Because restraint meant he was serious.
It meant he was here not for instant gratification or to rewrite history with empty gestures, but for the long haul. For us. For Leo.
And that—God help me—was scarier than anything.
I made Leo’s favorite breakfast. Banana pancakes shaped like stars. He came toddling into the kitchen with bedhead and a sock halfway off one foot.
“Mama,” he grinned sleepily, “do you think Lucien likes pancakes?”
“I think he might,” I said, trying to sound casual.
Leo climbed up into his booster seat, clutching the sketchpad he’d slept with last night. “Can I draw him with a jetpack? I think he’d look cool flying over the city.”
I smiled as I poured syrup. “Go for it, Picasso.”
It was alarming how quickly Leo had accepted Lucien into his orbit. There had been no transition period, no warming-up curve. Just… love. Immediate and unconditional.
He didn’t know Lucien’s flaws or the messy past between us. All he saw was a man who showed up when he said he would. A man who bent down to hear him, who bought rainbow sprinkles, who promised he’d come back—and did.
Children see love in the simplest acts. And Leo, my Leo, had always been ready to give his away.
But me?
I’d spent years learning to withhold mine.
When I dropped him off at school, he barely looked back, too busy waving a crayon drawing in front of his teacher. I stood there for a second longer than necessary, the kind of mother who watches from the doorway, caught between pride and vulnerability.
And then, I turned to face my day.
I went to work.
Half the office had no idea I was a single mom. The other half tiptoed around the fact like it might be contagious. I didn’t mind. I liked the boundaries. I liked being the one people came to for clean spreadsheets and direct answers, not awkward sympathy or unsolicited advice.
But even as I typed up budget proposals and answered emails, my mind kept circling back to Lucien.
To the way his hand had brushed against mine at dinner.
To the way he’d said, I’ll earn it.
To the guilt I felt—for wanting to believe him so badly.
When I picked Leo up later that afternoon, he was practically vibrating with excitement.
“He came!” Leo shouted the moment I stepped inside. “Lucien picked me up like he promised!”
My eyes darted around—Lucien was standing in the corner of the room, chatting with the teacher like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged.
He glanced up and smiled when he saw me.
Not the dazzling, charming smile I remembered from five years ago. No. This one was quiet. Grounded. Intentional.
And it cracked something open in me.
“Hey,” I said as I approached, trying to stay focused. “Did you… survive the afternoon chaos?”
He nodded. “Barely. Your son introduced me to six kids, told them I could beat a dragon in one punch, and then asked if we could have dinner together.”
Leo, standing between us, bounced on his toes. “Can we, Mama? Pleeeeease?”
I looked at Lucien. “Dinner?”
“I’ll cook,” he offered. “I know a killer mac and cheese recipe. It involves three cheeses, all approved by children under ten.”
I folded my arms, fighting a smile. “You cook now?”
“I had to learn,” he said, glancing down at Leo. “It turns out kids don’t live on espresso and takeout.”
Leo giggled. “You drink too much coffee.”
Lucien winked at him. “Don’t tell your mom.”
I should have said no. I should’ve made an excuse. But instead, I found myself nodding.
“Alright. But only if I get to approve the cheese.”
Leo cheered like we’d just won the lottery.
—
Lucien’s penthouse was nothing like I remembered.
It was still sleek and modern—walls of glass, clean lines, furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum—but there were new touches. Softer ones. A throw blanket on the couch. A soccer ball near the door. A framed picture of Leo on the hallway console.
I paused in front of it, my fingers brushing the edge of the frame. It wasn’t just a photo. It was us—a piece of us in a place that used to feel unreachable.
“You noticed,” Lucien said quietly behind me.
“When did you take this?”
“Last weekend,” he said. “You were showing Leo how to fold paper airplanes at the park.”
I blinked. “You were there?”
“I watched from the car. I wasn’t ready to approach you yet.” His voice was low. Honest. “But I wanted to see him. See you.”
And there it was again—that quiet ache between us. Unresolved, unfinished.
In the kitchen, Leo was already pulling out colored pencils and asking Lucien what kind of cape a flying shark would wear.
I helped stir the pasta. I chopped vegetables. We moved around each other like we’d done it a hundred times.
Like we weren’t broken.
Like this was just… normal.
Dinner was loud. Messy. Full of second helpings and giggles and juice spills. Leo told Lucien about his plan to build a time machine, and Lucien nodded along like it was the most brilliant invention in the world.
And when I was rinsing dishes later, I felt it again.
Peace.
Not because everything was fixed. But because—for the first time in years—it felt like maybe it could be.
Lucien stood beside me, drying a plate. “I meant what I said at dinner last night.”
I glanced at him. “About wanting to earn this?”
He nodded. “You, Isla. Not just Leo. You.”
I swallowed hard. “You broke me, Lucien.”
“I know.”
“And it took everything I had to build a life without you in it.”
He didn’t flinch. “But I want to be in it now.”
I looked at him. Not the billionaire. Not the father. Just the man.
And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I had to protect myself from the truth.
“I want that too,” I said.
Not loudly. Not with fireworks.
But with enough conviction that he knew I meant it.
And this time, he didn’t try to kiss me.
He just smiled.
And it was enough.