His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 23: Chapter 23
You are reading His Heir, Her Secret, Chapter 23: Chapter 23. Read more chapters of His Heir, Her Secret.
Lucien
I didn’t sleep that night. Not really.
I lay on Isla’s couch, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light, listening to the soft rhythm of the house—the creak of floorboards, the occasional hum of wind brushing against the windows, the distant sound of Leo’s even breathing through the baby monitor Isla had left plugged in.
It was humbling.
In all my years of running billion-dollar ventures and making calculated decisions with cold precision, I had never felt this small. Not in a powerless way—but in a way that made me realize how enormous love could be when it finally hit you in the chest. Quiet. Fierce. Undeniable.
Leo had reached for my hand.
That single gesture had unraveled something inside me I hadn’t known was tangled. I couldn’t stop replaying it—his sleepy eyes, the unfiltered trust in his tiny voice. And then the question that had damn near shattered me:
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
I had never made a more serious promise in my life.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—how I’d built a reputation around not making promises at all. Yet here I was, changing everything for a boy I’d just met and a woman I’d never stopped loving.
And that terrified me.
Because what if I failed them?
What if I didn’t know how to be the kind of man Isla and Leo needed?
By the time dawn crept in, casting a soft gold glow over the room, I was still wide awake—mind heavy, heart full, and hands itching to do something. Fix something. Be useful in some way other than emotionally spiraling in the dark.
I stood, stretched, and made my way to the kitchen quietly. I knew Isla wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour, and Leo even later. So I did what any man completely out of his depth might do:
I made breakfast.
Sort of.
Toast. Scrambled eggs. Some fruit I found in the fridge. I even made coffee, though I nearly burned the first pot. The smell of it filled the kitchen, grounding me somehow.
This was foreign terrain—being here in the morning instead of in my penthouse with my schedule already stacked. And yet, there was something deeply comforting about Isla’s modest kitchen. Warm. Lived-in. Safe.
When I heard the soft pad of footsteps, I turned.
Leo stood in the doorway, hair a wild mess, eyes sleepy but alert. His pajamas were a little big on him, and he held a stuffed bear against his chest like a shield.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, kneeling to his height. “Sleep okay?”
He blinked. “You stayed.”
My chest ached. “I told you I would.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Mommy says people leave.”
The words hit me like a slap. I swallowed. “Yeah. Sometimes they do. But I won’t.”
“Promise?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Promise.”
Leo nodded once, then walked over and stood beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I like eggs.”
“I made some. Want to help me carry the plates?”
He grinned—missing a front tooth. “Okay.”
As we set the table together, I glanced toward the hallway. I could hear Isla stirring now. A drawer opened. A closet door closed. And a few moments later, she appeared—barefoot, wrapped in a robe, hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders.
She stopped short when she saw the table.
Leo beamed. “Mommy! We made breakfast!”
Her eyes locked onto mine. I saw the surprise. Then something gentler.
“You did, huh?” she said, walking over and pressing a kiss to Leo’s forehead. “Smells amazing.”
She met my gaze across the table. Her lips tilted into the faintest smile. Thank you, it said.
Anything for you, I thought.
We ate together like a family. It wasn’t perfect—Leo spilled his juice, I burned the last piece of toast—but it was real. There was laughter. There was connection.
And when Leo leaned against me as he chewed his eggs, I felt something settle deep in my chest. Something permanent.
I would die for this boy. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
After breakfast, Isla walked with me to the porch while Leo played in the living room.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything this morning.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know. It’s just… new.”
I nodded. “For me too.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, eyes focused on the horizon. The sunlight kissed her skin, and I had to fight the urge to pull her into my arms.
“I meant what I said last night,” I told her. “I want to be here. In Leo’s life. In your life.”
She looked up at me. “I believe you.”
“But?”
“But I’m scared,” she whispered. “Of how fast this could fall apart. Of what happens if Leo gets attached and then—”
“I’m not leaving.” My voice was firm. “Not this time. Not ever again.”
Isla’s eyes filled with tears she didn’t let fall. “Then we take it one day at a time.”
“Whatever it takes.”
We stood there for a long moment, the morning stretching out around us like a promise.
I didn’t know what challenges lay ahead. There would be questions, and maybe even hurt. There would be adjusting, learning, growing.
But for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of any of it.
Because this—they—were worth everything.
I didn’t sleep that night. Not really.
I lay on Isla’s couch, staring up at the ceiling in the dim light, listening to the soft rhythm of the house—the creak of floorboards, the occasional hum of wind brushing against the windows, the distant sound of Leo’s even breathing through the baby monitor Isla had left plugged in.
It was humbling.
In all my years of running billion-dollar ventures and making calculated decisions with cold precision, I had never felt this small. Not in a powerless way—but in a way that made me realize how enormous love could be when it finally hit you in the chest. Quiet. Fierce. Undeniable.
Leo had reached for my hand.
That single gesture had unraveled something inside me I hadn’t known was tangled. I couldn’t stop replaying it—his sleepy eyes, the unfiltered trust in his tiny voice. And then the question that had damn near shattered me:
“Will you be here when I wake up?”
I had never made a more serious promise in my life.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—how I’d built a reputation around not making promises at all. Yet here I was, changing everything for a boy I’d just met and a woman I’d never stopped loving.
And that terrified me.
Because what if I failed them?
What if I didn’t know how to be the kind of man Isla and Leo needed?
By the time dawn crept in, casting a soft gold glow over the room, I was still wide awake—mind heavy, heart full, and hands itching to do something. Fix something. Be useful in some way other than emotionally spiraling in the dark.
I stood, stretched, and made my way to the kitchen quietly. I knew Isla wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour, and Leo even later. So I did what any man completely out of his depth might do:
I made breakfast.
Sort of.
Toast. Scrambled eggs. Some fruit I found in the fridge. I even made coffee, though I nearly burned the first pot. The smell of it filled the kitchen, grounding me somehow.
This was foreign terrain—being here in the morning instead of in my penthouse with my schedule already stacked. And yet, there was something deeply comforting about Isla’s modest kitchen. Warm. Lived-in. Safe.
When I heard the soft pad of footsteps, I turned.
Leo stood in the doorway, hair a wild mess, eyes sleepy but alert. His pajamas were a little big on him, and he held a stuffed bear against his chest like a shield.
“Hey, buddy,” I said, kneeling to his height. “Sleep okay?”
He blinked. “You stayed.”
My chest ached. “I told you I would.”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Mommy says people leave.”
The words hit me like a slap. I swallowed. “Yeah. Sometimes they do. But I won’t.”
“Promise?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Promise.”
Leo nodded once, then walked over and stood beside me like it was the most natural thing in the world. “I like eggs.”
“I made some. Want to help me carry the plates?”
He grinned—missing a front tooth. “Okay.”
As we set the table together, I glanced toward the hallway. I could hear Isla stirring now. A drawer opened. A closet door closed. And a few moments later, she appeared—barefoot, wrapped in a robe, hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders.
She stopped short when she saw the table.
Leo beamed. “Mommy! We made breakfast!”
Her eyes locked onto mine. I saw the surprise. Then something gentler.
“You did, huh?” she said, walking over and pressing a kiss to Leo’s forehead. “Smells amazing.”
She met my gaze across the table. Her lips tilted into the faintest smile. Thank you, it said.
Anything for you, I thought.
We ate together like a family. It wasn’t perfect—Leo spilled his juice, I burned the last piece of toast—but it was real. There was laughter. There was connection.
And when Leo leaned against me as he chewed his eggs, I felt something settle deep in my chest. Something permanent.
I would die for this boy. No hesitation. No second thoughts.
After breakfast, Isla walked with me to the porch while Leo played in the living room.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything this morning.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know. It’s just… new.”
I nodded. “For me too.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, eyes focused on the horizon. The sunlight kissed her skin, and I had to fight the urge to pull her into my arms.
“I meant what I said last night,” I told her. “I want to be here. In Leo’s life. In your life.”
She looked up at me. “I believe you.”
“But?”
“But I’m scared,” she whispered. “Of how fast this could fall apart. Of what happens if Leo gets attached and then—”
“I’m not leaving.” My voice was firm. “Not this time. Not ever again.”
Isla’s eyes filled with tears she didn’t let fall. “Then we take it one day at a time.”
“Whatever it takes.”
We stood there for a long moment, the morning stretching out around us like a promise.
I didn’t know what challenges lay ahead. There would be questions, and maybe even hurt. There would be adjusting, learning, growing.
But for the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of any of it.
Because this—they—were worth everything.
End of His Heir, Her Secret Chapter 23. Continue reading Chapter 24 or return to His Heir, Her Secret book page.