His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Lucien
There’s a particular silence in war rooms.
It’s not the absence of noise—but the quiet hum of brains turning faster than mouths can speak. That’s what filled the floor of Wolfe & Price’s private legal conference suite this morning. A hush sharpened by the clatter of typed notes, paper shuffling, and the low, clipped phrases between attorneys.
I stood at the head of the glass conference table, arms crossed, jaw locked tight.
“This is going to get uglier before it gets better,” said Lena Shaw, lead counsel on our family litigation team. Mid-thirties, surgical in precision, and currently scouring Damon Cross’s petition like it had personally offended her.
“He’s gone for full custody,” I said. “He’s not even pretending to negotiate.”
“Because he doesn’t care about custody,” she replied coolly. “He cares about optics, control, and headlines. He’s posturing, Lucien. And I don’t think he knows what we’re capable of.”
Oh, he didn’t. Not yet.
“He has no proof,” I said. “He left Isla. She raised Leo alone. I’m listed as the father on the birth certificate now. We’ve done everything legally.”
“Yes,” Lena nodded. “But you know family court. They’ll look for the child’s best interest, not just legal boxes checked. And if Damon paints Isla as unstable—”
“He’ll lose,” I snapped. “Because we won’t let that happen.”
The door opened, and Kieran—my longtime personal assistant—stepped inside with a USB drive. “These just came in. Security footage from the building and Isla’s old clinic. Plus the background report on Cross.”
I took it and passed it to Lena.
“What about media?” I asked. “He leaked it first. I want our narrative public by this afternoon.”
Lena tilted her head. “You want to go public now? The court may not like it.”
“I don’t care what they like. I care about truth. We’re not hiding. I’ve spent enough of my life pretending I didn’t want Isla, or that Leo wasn’t mine. No more secrets. Not now.”
“Understood.”
I paced to the window, staring out over Manhattan’s gray skyline. It was raining again—like the city knew the weight pressing down on my chest. I thought of Isla and Leo in the penthouse. How small Leo looked curled up beside Isla this morning, unaware of the chaos unraveling around him.
And how Isla—brilliant, fierce, exhausted—held herself together for him.
I swore I wouldn’t let Damon take anything from them. Not peace. Not safety. And certainly not Leo.
“He’ll attack Isla personally,” Lena said gently, like she already knew what I was thinking. “He’ll dig into her past, try to use her lack of legal representation before now to his advantage. He may even question Leo’s paternity again.”
“He won’t win that fight,” I replied. “Run the DNA again if necessary. I’ll submit to anything.”
Lena gave a small smile. “That’s the father talking.”
I looked her in the eye. “No. That’s a man ready to go to war.”
We finished strategy an hour later. When I stepped back into the elevator, Kieran trailed behind me, his tablet still glowing with incoming alerts.
“There’s one more thing,” he said hesitantly. “A reporter showed up outside the building.”
I sighed. “Let security handle it.”
“It’s not just any reporter. It’s Camilla Dane.”
That name gave me pause.
Camilla had been the voice behind some of the biggest exposés in New York media. A journalist who balanced on the line between cutthroat and principled, depending on which day you caught her. We’d tangled before—back when she nearly broke the story of my father’s offshore dealings.
“What does she want?”
“She says she’s giving you a chance to control your own narrative. And… she mentioned Damon’s past.”
My eyes narrowed. “Bring her to my office.”
Back in my penthouse suite at Wolfe Tower, I poured two fingers of scotch and waited. Camilla arrived within the hour, all heels, gloss, and quiet fire.
“You’ve certainly stirred the pot this time, Mr. Wolfe,” she said as she entered, not bothering to sit.
“Then you know the truth,” I said. “So why are you here?”
“Because I think the public deserves to know what Damon Cross is really after,” she replied. “And I think you have more to lose than he does.”
I studied her. “You want an exclusive?”
“I want facts. You want protection. Give me something real—documents, audio, anything—and I’ll build a story around the truth.”
I considered it for half a second before replying. “You’ll have what you need by tonight.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not even going to hesitate?”
“I don’t have time for hesitation. I have a son to protect.”
For the first time, she softened. “He’s lucky to have you.”
“No,” I said. “I’m lucky to have him.”
After she left, I didn’t sit. I couldn’t. My brain was racing, a thousand strategies overlapping like chessboards. But one thing stood out above them all—the image of Isla holding Leo last night. Her voice soft in the dark. Her shoulders tense, like she was carrying the weight of two lives on her back.
I wouldn’t let her do that alone.
When I returned home that evening, Isla was on the balcony. Her hair whipped around her face in the wind. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained bruised.
She turned when she heard the door slide open.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
I stepped beside her. “Manageable. For now. We’ve got our team in place. I’ve spoken to a journalist.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You’re going public?”
“I’m done hiding. If Damon wants a public fight, I’ll give him one. But on our terms.”
She was quiet for a long moment. “Do you think he’ll stop at just this?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I think we’re ready.”
She looked up at me, her eyes clear despite the exhaustion. “Thank you. For not running.”
“I ran before,” I said quietly. “I let fear win. But not this time.”
She leaned into me slowly, resting her head on my chest. “I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“What if the court doesn’t care that he’s dangerous?”
“Then I’ll show them. In every way I can.”
I wrapped my arms around her and closed my eyes.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t thinking about business. Or legacy. Or empire.
I was thinking about my son’s future.
And I was prepared to burn the world down to protect it.