His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 19: Chapter 19
You are reading His Heir, Her Secret, Chapter 19: Chapter 19. Read more chapters of His Heir, Her Secret.
Lucien
It was after midnight, and the apartment was finally still.
Leo had fallen asleep on the couch halfway through his “flying shark battle” story. Isla had carried him into the guest room without saying much, and I’d taken my time cleaning up the living room, more for the distraction than necessity. I wasn’t used to this kind of quiet—the kind filled with traces of laughter and warmth rather than the sterile silence of solitude.
I stood by the window, the city glittering beneath me like a sea of fractured stars.
Isla had said she wanted this too.
She’d said it—not in passing, not flippantly—but with intent. As if she meant every syllable. And I hadn’t kissed her.
God knows I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to reduce that moment to something selfish. I wanted to let it breathe, to let her trust the space we were building. That was new for me. And terrifying.
Because patience had never been my strong suit.
Especially not with her.
I heard the soft click of the guest room door and turned.
Isla stepped out quietly, barefoot, wearing one of my hoodies over her jeans. It hung off her like a robe, sleeves bunched around her hands. She looked up and caught my gaze.
“He’s out cold,” she said softly.
“I noticed. He barely made it to the dramatic shark finale.”
She smiled. “He had a good night.”
I leaned against the counter. “So did I.”
There was a beat of silence between us. Familiar, but loaded.
She came into the kitchen and reached for a glass of water. “You’re different, Lucien.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Older?”
She rolled her eyes. “Wiser. Calmer. Less… titanium and more steel.”
I chuckled. “That’s poetic. Are you writing again?”
She froze mid-sip. “I didn’t think you remembered that.”
“I remember everything about you, Isla.”
She set the glass down slowly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You remember everything, but you still left.”
The words didn’t sting because they were true. They stung because I’d replayed that decision a thousand times. And every time, I still came up with the same damn ache in my chest.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
I walked over to the island, keeping space between us but needing her to hear this.
“I was about to become CEO. The board was circling like vultures, press breathing down my neck. My father had just died, my mother was already folding under the pressure, and I didn’t know how to let anyone in—not really. I didn’t know how to build something and keep it from turning to ash.”
“So you left.”
I nodded. “I thought if I let you go before things got serious, you’d be free. You’d still have your future.”
Her eyes were unreadable. “But I was serious, Lucien. That’s the thing. I always was.”
I swallowed hard. “I know that now.”
We stood there, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound between us.
Then she asked, “Do you regret it?”
And I didn’t even have to think.
“Yes. Every single day.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
But something in her eyes flickered—like maybe she wasn’t expecting honesty to be the weapon I brought tonight.
“I didn’t know about Leo,” I said. “If I had…”
Her shoulders tensed. “Would it have changed anything?”
I crossed the room slowly. “Everything. You think I would’ve walked away if I knew he existed?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid. Not of you hurting us, but of you not choosing us.”
“That wouldn’t have happened.” My voice cracked, low and rough. “He’s mine, Isla. I look at him, and I see my whole damn heart running around on two legs.”
She looked down, and I saw her walls start to shift, to tremble under the weight of what we’d both lost.
“Why now?” she asked. “Why come back after all this time?”
“Because I couldn’t stay away anymore. I’ve built empires, Isla. I’ve bought silence, made headlines, survived boardroom wars. But nothing—nothing—feels like it matters without you. Without him.”
Silence. Heavy and raw.
Then she whispered, “You really mean that?”
I stepped closer.
“I mean it so much that it hurts.”
Her hands trembled as they rested on the edge of the counter. “This isn’t just about Leo, is it?”
“No,” I said softly. “It never was.”
The air between us pulsed.
I wanted to touch her.
I wanted to press my hands against her cheeks and tell her that I saw her. That I’d never stopped loving her. That she’d never been a detour—I’d just been too broken to admit she was my destination.
But I didn’t move.
I waited.
And she did something I hadn’t expected.
She reached for me.
She crossed the last few inches of space and placed her hand on my chest, just over my heart. Her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to match the man in front of her to the one she used to know.
“You still have a long way to go,” she said, her voice soft but strong. “You can’t just show up and expect everything to fall into place.”
“I don’t,” I said. “I don’t want a shortcut. I want the long road with you.”
Her breath caught. “Lucien…”
I didn’t kiss her.
But I held her hand.
And she didn’t pull away.
It was after midnight, and the apartment was finally still.
Leo had fallen asleep on the couch halfway through his “flying shark battle” story. Isla had carried him into the guest room without saying much, and I’d taken my time cleaning up the living room, more for the distraction than necessity. I wasn’t used to this kind of quiet—the kind filled with traces of laughter and warmth rather than the sterile silence of solitude.
I stood by the window, the city glittering beneath me like a sea of fractured stars.
Isla had said she wanted this too.
She’d said it—not in passing, not flippantly—but with intent. As if she meant every syllable. And I hadn’t kissed her.
God knows I’d wanted to. But I didn’t want to reduce that moment to something selfish. I wanted to let it breathe, to let her trust the space we were building. That was new for me. And terrifying.
Because patience had never been my strong suit.
Especially not with her.
I heard the soft click of the guest room door and turned.
Isla stepped out quietly, barefoot, wearing one of my hoodies over her jeans. It hung off her like a robe, sleeves bunched around her hands. She looked up and caught my gaze.
“He’s out cold,” she said softly.
“I noticed. He barely made it to the dramatic shark finale.”
She smiled. “He had a good night.”
I leaned against the counter. “So did I.”
There was a beat of silence between us. Familiar, but loaded.
She came into the kitchen and reached for a glass of water. “You’re different, Lucien.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Older?”
She rolled her eyes. “Wiser. Calmer. Less… titanium and more steel.”
I chuckled. “That’s poetic. Are you writing again?”
She froze mid-sip. “I didn’t think you remembered that.”
“I remember everything about you, Isla.”
She set the glass down slowly. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? You remember everything, but you still left.”
The words didn’t sting because they were true. They stung because I’d replayed that decision a thousand times. And every time, I still came up with the same damn ache in my chest.
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
I walked over to the island, keeping space between us but needing her to hear this.
“I was about to become CEO. The board was circling like vultures, press breathing down my neck. My father had just died, my mother was already folding under the pressure, and I didn’t know how to let anyone in—not really. I didn’t know how to build something and keep it from turning to ash.”
“So you left.”
I nodded. “I thought if I let you go before things got serious, you’d be free. You’d still have your future.”
Her eyes were unreadable. “But I was serious, Lucien. That’s the thing. I always was.”
I swallowed hard. “I know that now.”
We stood there, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound between us.
Then she asked, “Do you regret it?”
And I didn’t even have to think.
“Yes. Every single day.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.
But something in her eyes flickered—like maybe she wasn’t expecting honesty to be the weapon I brought tonight.
“I didn’t know about Leo,” I said. “If I had…”
Her shoulders tensed. “Would it have changed anything?”
I crossed the room slowly. “Everything. You think I would’ve walked away if I knew he existed?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid. Not of you hurting us, but of you not choosing us.”
“That wouldn’t have happened.” My voice cracked, low and rough. “He’s mine, Isla. I look at him, and I see my whole damn heart running around on two legs.”
She looked down, and I saw her walls start to shift, to tremble under the weight of what we’d both lost.
“Why now?” she asked. “Why come back after all this time?”
“Because I couldn’t stay away anymore. I’ve built empires, Isla. I’ve bought silence, made headlines, survived boardroom wars. But nothing—nothing—feels like it matters without you. Without him.”
Silence. Heavy and raw.
Then she whispered, “You really mean that?”
I stepped closer.
“I mean it so much that it hurts.”
Her hands trembled as they rested on the edge of the counter. “This isn’t just about Leo, is it?”
“No,” I said softly. “It never was.”
The air between us pulsed.
I wanted to touch her.
I wanted to press my hands against her cheeks and tell her that I saw her. That I’d never stopped loving her. That she’d never been a detour—I’d just been too broken to admit she was my destination.
But I didn’t move.
I waited.
And she did something I hadn’t expected.
She reached for me.
She crossed the last few inches of space and placed her hand on my chest, just over my heart. Her eyes searched mine, like she was trying to match the man in front of her to the one she used to know.
“You still have a long way to go,” she said, her voice soft but strong. “You can’t just show up and expect everything to fall into place.”
“I don’t,” I said. “I don’t want a shortcut. I want the long road with you.”
Her breath caught. “Lucien…”
I didn’t kiss her.
But I held her hand.
And she didn’t pull away.
End of His Heir, Her Secret Chapter 19. Continue reading Chapter 20 or return to His Heir, Her Secret book page.