His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Isla
I had never heard the sound of a man breaking until Lucien sat across from me and confessed everything.
There was a kind of stillness in the room afterward—a silence that wasn’t empty but full of everything he didn’t say out loud. His eyes carried it. That familiar intensity, bruised now with guilt and desperation.
And all I could think was: I loved this man. Still. Despite everything. Maybe even more now, because he was finally showing me the scars I’d always sensed but never seen.
After he pulled me into his arms, I didn’t say much. I couldn’t. My throat was tight with emotions I couldn’t sort through fast enough. Anger. Relief. Fear. Love.
So instead, I sat next to him, our bodies pressed together like a puzzle we were still trying to figure out. His arm stayed around my shoulders as though letting go would mean losing me again.
But it wasn’t just about us anymore. It hadn’t been for years.
“I think Leo deserves to know,” I said finally, the words trembling as they left my lips.
Lucien’s hold on me stiffened for a second. “Know what?”
“That you’re his father. Really know it.”
He didn’t speak right away. His fingers slid from my shoulder to my hand, lacing through my fingers as though grounding himself.
“I want that too,” he said eventually, voice raw. “But I don’t want to confuse him. Or… scare him. I wasn’t there, Isla. I don’t want to barge into his life and make it about me.”
I looked at him, really looked at him. His jaw was tight, the strong lines of his face shadowed with regret. The man who once closed boardroom deals with a smirk and swagger now sat in my kitchen unsure of his place in the life he helped create.
“Leo’s a smart boy,” I whispered. “But he’s also sensitive. He’s already attached to you, Lucien. He just doesn’t know why.”
Lucien swallowed hard. “What if he hates me for not being there?”
“He won’t. He’ll ask questions. He might be confused or even upset. But he won’t hate you. And when the time comes, we’ll face it together.”
He turned to me, his dark eyes wet with something I hadn’t seen before—hope.
“You still say we.”
“Because I still mean it,” I said softly. “Despite everything.”
The admission hung in the air like an offering.
Lucien leaned in, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”
“No,” I agreed, my voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t deserve you either. And yet, here we are.”
The air crackled between us. A magnetic pull I had tried to ignore for far too long surged to the surface. But just before his lips met mine, the sound of small footsteps upstairs made us both freeze.
Leo.
Lucien pulled back, exhaling a shaky breath. “Another time,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across my knuckles.
I nodded, my heart both aching and full.
We stood and walked together toward the staircase. I called out, “Leo? Everything okay, sweetheart?”
His sleepy little voice drifted down the stairs. “Mommy? I had a dream.”
Lucien looked at me. “Do you want me to…?”
“Come,” I said, surprising both of us. “You’re part of this now.”
Leo was sitting up in bed when we reached him, his curls tousled and cheeks warm from sleep. When he saw Lucien, his eyes brightened in that instinctual, unexplainable way.
“Hi again,” he said shyly.
Lucien crouched beside the bed. “Hey, buddy. Bad dream?”
Leo nodded. “It was about a big storm and I couldn’t find Mommy. But then someone found me. A man.”
Lucien’s eyes flicked to mine. “What did the man look like?”
Leo tilted his head, thinking. “He had your eyes.”
I felt something twist in my chest—an invisible thread between father and son, already pulling tight.
Lucien smiled gently. “Well, I’ll always find you. Even in dreams, okay?”
Leo blinked up at him, then reached for Lucien’s hand. Just like that.
My heart stuttered. It wasn’t fair how fast children trusted. Or maybe it was beautiful. Maybe Leo’s soul had always known the truth.
Lucien tucked the blanket around Leo, his movements awkward but careful. “Get some sleep, little man. Big day tomorrow.”
Leo yawned and snuggled back into his pillow. “Will you be here when I wake up?”
Lucien froze. So did I.
Then he said, quietly but firmly, “Yes. I will.”
I swallowed hard as we left the room. Lucien closed the door gently behind us, then leaned against it like the emotional weight had finally caught up to him.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice cracking.
I reached for his hand. “You don’t have to do it alone.”
He looked at me, vulnerable in a way I’d never seen before. “Thank you for letting me in. I know it would’ve been easier to shut the door.”
“It wasn’t about easy,” I said. “It was about what’s right. And what’s best for Leo.”
Lucien nodded. “I want to make you proud. I want to make him proud.”
“You don’t have to prove anything,” I whispered. “Just be here. That’s more than enough.”
We stood there in the hallway for a long moment, the hum of the house around us, the silence not heavy but sacred.
And for the first time in a long time, I believed that maybe—just maybe—we were going to be okay.