His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 41: Chapter 41
You are reading His Heir, Her Secret, Chapter 41: Chapter 41. Read more chapters of His Heir, Her Secret.
Isla
I never thought I’d be the kind of woman who needed a war room.
But this morning, as I stood in the heart of Lucien’s penthouse, surrounded by folders marked “Cross v. Wolfe,” I realized that survival sometimes looked like strategy and sacrifice stacked in color-coded binders.
My fingers trembled slightly as I flipped through the latest motion our lawyers had filed—another rebuttal to Damon’s petition for full custody. Just seeing my name and Leo’s name on a legal document like that made my stomach clench.
Leo was on the floor behind me, absorbed in building a crooked tower with Lucien’s cufflinks and a half-finished puzzle. Every so often, he’d hum to himself or call out for me to look at something. I kept turning around to smile, to reassure him with my eyes—even as my heart tried to claw out of my chest.
Lucien had gone to meet with the PR team after speaking to that journalist, Camilla Dane. He’d made good on his promise to go public, and the media hadn’t wasted a second. Our photos—of Leo, of Lucien holding him outside the penthouse, of me stepping into court—were already all over the internet.
Some headlines praised Lucien. Others tore us apart.
“Heiress Nurse’s Secret Son” one said.
“Billionaire Wolfe Claims Surprise Heir” read another.
And a few, the ones I couldn’t stomach looking at more than once, asked: “Is She Fit To Be a Mother?”
I had to sit down.
My legs buckled slightly as I sank into the couch. A lump formed in my throat, heavy and bitter. Not because I doubted myself—but because I knew how quickly the world was willing to believe the worst about a woman trying to do right by her child.
I’d spent four years keeping Leo safe from headlines, chaos, and powerful men who thought they could dictate my life. Now all of that protection was unraveling, inch by inch, in glossy print and courtroom whispers.
“Mama?”
I blinked out of the fog. Leo had waddled up to me, clutching his puzzle piece. He climbed into my lap like he used to do when he was a baby, curling up into my chest without asking.
“Are you sad?” he asked.
“No, baby,” I whispered, smoothing his hair. “I’m just thinking.”
“You’re thinking too loud.”
I let out a small laugh. “You’re right.”
We sat like that for a while, the room quiet except for the ticking clock and the sound of rain brushing the windows. Every now and then, I would glance at the legal files on the table. Then I’d glance down at the boy in my arms. And I’d remember exactly why I was doing all of this.
Not for vengeance.
Not even for love.
But for Leo. Always.
There was a knock at the door, and before I could move, it opened to reveal Grace—Lucien’s housekeeper—her face pinched with concern.
“Miss Isla,” she said. “There’s someone downstairs.”
My spine straightened. “Who?”
“A woman. She asked for you specifically. She said her name is Regina Blake.”
The name hit me like a slap.
Regina Blake. Damon’s mother.
“Tell her I’m not—” I started, but Leo looked up at me, blinking.
Grace shifted awkwardly. “She said she wouldn’t leave until she speaks to you. She’s waiting in the downstairs lounge.”
I swallowed hard.
“Can you watch Leo?” I asked, gently setting him down. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
The moment I stepped into the elevator, my heart began to pound. I hadn’t seen Regina since I left Damon four years ago. She’d never reached out. Never asked after me or her grandson. And now, after Lucien had gone public, she was here?
The doors opened, and I found her exactly where Grace said she’d be.
Regina Blake looked as polished and cold as I remembered. A navy coat draped over her shoulders like armor, her hair swept into a severe bun, her lipstick the same sharp red she’d worn the night she told me I was nothing but “a temporary interest” to her son.
She stood when she saw me.
“Isla.”
I didn’t return the greeting. “Why are you here?”
“I came to speak about Damon.”
“I’m not interested in hearing anything about Damon.”
“You should be,” she said crisply. “Because he’s about to make this very, very messy.”
I crossed my arms. “He already has.”
Her eyes flicked over me. “You’ve changed. You look… stronger.”
“Motherhood will do that to you.”
Regina sighed and sat back down, motioning for me to do the same. I didn’t.
She continued. “Damon has always been a man obsessed with image. You know that. He never cared about consequences. Just control. He’s spiraling, Isla. The fact that he’s going after custody isn’t about Leo—it’s about punishing you.”
“I already know that,” I said, my voice tight. “What I don’t know is why you care.”
She paused. For a second—just a second—something human flashed in her eyes.
“Because I didn’t stop him before. When I should have.”
The words surprised me. But not enough to trust her.
“You let him treat me like a possession. You told me I didn’t belong.”
“I did,” she admitted. “And I was wrong.”
I stood my ground. “Why are you really here, Regina?”
She inMonroed slowly. “Because Damon has found someone willing to lie under oath for him. Someone from your past. He’s going to say you endangered Leo. That you withheld medical care. That you were unstable.”
My blood turned to ice.
“He has no proof.”
“No,” she said. “But he’s not looking for proof. He’s looking for a spectacle. And in court, sometimes that’s enough.”
I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying to steady my breathing.
“What do you want from me?” I asked quietly.
She stood. “To give you this.”
She pulled a small flash drive from her coat pocket and set it on the table between us.
“It’s a recording. From years ago. Damon speaking candidly about how he never wanted to be a father. About how he was glad you left. I kept it… in case. You can do what you want with it.”
I stared at it, unsure whether to believe her.
“And what do you want in return?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Except to make sure my grandson doesn’t end up a pawn in Damon’s game.”
With that, she left.
I stood in the lounge for a long time after she was gone, the flash drive still untouched on the table. Eventually, I picked it up and walked back upstairs, my hands trembling.
Leo was asleep on the couch, curled up with one of Lucien’s sweaters. The sight of him, so peaceful, so unaware, grounded me again.
When Lucien walked in fifteen minutes later, I was waiting.
He saw my face and froze. “What happened?”
“Damon’s pulling witnesses from my past. People who’ll lie.”
His jaw tensed. “We’ll shut it down.”
I held up the flash drive. “We might not have to.”
He took it from me gently. “What is this?”
“Proof,” I said. “From someone I never thought would help us.”
Lucien didn’t ask questions. He just pulled me into his arms, and for the first time in what felt like days, I let myself break. Just a little. Just enough.
Because tomorrow, the real battle would begin.
And we would be ready.
I never thought I’d be the kind of woman who needed a war room.
But this morning, as I stood in the heart of Lucien’s penthouse, surrounded by folders marked “Cross v. Wolfe,” I realized that survival sometimes looked like strategy and sacrifice stacked in color-coded binders.
My fingers trembled slightly as I flipped through the latest motion our lawyers had filed—another rebuttal to Damon’s petition for full custody. Just seeing my name and Leo’s name on a legal document like that made my stomach clench.
Leo was on the floor behind me, absorbed in building a crooked tower with Lucien’s cufflinks and a half-finished puzzle. Every so often, he’d hum to himself or call out for me to look at something. I kept turning around to smile, to reassure him with my eyes—even as my heart tried to claw out of my chest.
Lucien had gone to meet with the PR team after speaking to that journalist, Camilla Dane. He’d made good on his promise to go public, and the media hadn’t wasted a second. Our photos—of Leo, of Lucien holding him outside the penthouse, of me stepping into court—were already all over the internet.
Some headlines praised Lucien. Others tore us apart.
“Heiress Nurse’s Secret Son” one said.
“Billionaire Wolfe Claims Surprise Heir” read another.
And a few, the ones I couldn’t stomach looking at more than once, asked: “Is She Fit To Be a Mother?”
I had to sit down.
My legs buckled slightly as I sank into the couch. A lump formed in my throat, heavy and bitter. Not because I doubted myself—but because I knew how quickly the world was willing to believe the worst about a woman trying to do right by her child.
I’d spent four years keeping Leo safe from headlines, chaos, and powerful men who thought they could dictate my life. Now all of that protection was unraveling, inch by inch, in glossy print and courtroom whispers.
“Mama?”
I blinked out of the fog. Leo had waddled up to me, clutching his puzzle piece. He climbed into my lap like he used to do when he was a baby, curling up into my chest without asking.
“Are you sad?” he asked.
“No, baby,” I whispered, smoothing his hair. “I’m just thinking.”
“You’re thinking too loud.”
I let out a small laugh. “You’re right.”
We sat like that for a while, the room quiet except for the ticking clock and the sound of rain brushing the windows. Every now and then, I would glance at the legal files on the table. Then I’d glance down at the boy in my arms. And I’d remember exactly why I was doing all of this.
Not for vengeance.
Not even for love.
But for Leo. Always.
There was a knock at the door, and before I could move, it opened to reveal Grace—Lucien’s housekeeper—her face pinched with concern.
“Miss Isla,” she said. “There’s someone downstairs.”
My spine straightened. “Who?”
“A woman. She asked for you specifically. She said her name is Regina Blake.”
The name hit me like a slap.
Regina Blake. Damon’s mother.
“Tell her I’m not—” I started, but Leo looked up at me, blinking.
Grace shifted awkwardly. “She said she wouldn’t leave until she speaks to you. She’s waiting in the downstairs lounge.”
I swallowed hard.
“Can you watch Leo?” I asked, gently setting him down. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
The moment I stepped into the elevator, my heart began to pound. I hadn’t seen Regina since I left Damon four years ago. She’d never reached out. Never asked after me or her grandson. And now, after Lucien had gone public, she was here?
The doors opened, and I found her exactly where Grace said she’d be.
Regina Blake looked as polished and cold as I remembered. A navy coat draped over her shoulders like armor, her hair swept into a severe bun, her lipstick the same sharp red she’d worn the night she told me I was nothing but “a temporary interest” to her son.
She stood when she saw me.
“Isla.”
I didn’t return the greeting. “Why are you here?”
“I came to speak about Damon.”
“I’m not interested in hearing anything about Damon.”
“You should be,” she said crisply. “Because he’s about to make this very, very messy.”
I crossed my arms. “He already has.”
Her eyes flicked over me. “You’ve changed. You look… stronger.”
“Motherhood will do that to you.”
Regina sighed and sat back down, motioning for me to do the same. I didn’t.
She continued. “Damon has always been a man obsessed with image. You know that. He never cared about consequences. Just control. He’s spiraling, Isla. The fact that he’s going after custody isn’t about Leo—it’s about punishing you.”
“I already know that,” I said, my voice tight. “What I don’t know is why you care.”
She paused. For a second—just a second—something human flashed in her eyes.
“Because I didn’t stop him before. When I should have.”
The words surprised me. But not enough to trust her.
“You let him treat me like a possession. You told me I didn’t belong.”
“I did,” she admitted. “And I was wrong.”
I stood my ground. “Why are you really here, Regina?”
She inMonroed slowly. “Because Damon has found someone willing to lie under oath for him. Someone from your past. He’s going to say you endangered Leo. That you withheld medical care. That you were unstable.”
My blood turned to ice.
“He has no proof.”
“No,” she said. “But he’s not looking for proof. He’s looking for a spectacle. And in court, sometimes that’s enough.”
I pressed a hand to my stomach, trying to steady my breathing.
“What do you want from me?” I asked quietly.
She stood. “To give you this.”
She pulled a small flash drive from her coat pocket and set it on the table between us.
“It’s a recording. From years ago. Damon speaking candidly about how he never wanted to be a father. About how he was glad you left. I kept it… in case. You can do what you want with it.”
I stared at it, unsure whether to believe her.
“And what do you want in return?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Except to make sure my grandson doesn’t end up a pawn in Damon’s game.”
With that, she left.
I stood in the lounge for a long time after she was gone, the flash drive still untouched on the table. Eventually, I picked it up and walked back upstairs, my hands trembling.
Leo was asleep on the couch, curled up with one of Lucien’s sweaters. The sight of him, so peaceful, so unaware, grounded me again.
When Lucien walked in fifteen minutes later, I was waiting.
He saw my face and froze. “What happened?”
“Damon’s pulling witnesses from my past. People who’ll lie.”
His jaw tensed. “We’ll shut it down.”
I held up the flash drive. “We might not have to.”
He took it from me gently. “What is this?”
“Proof,” I said. “From someone I never thought would help us.”
Lucien didn’t ask questions. He just pulled me into his arms, and for the first time in what felt like days, I let myself break. Just a little. Just enough.
Because tomorrow, the real battle would begin.
And we would be ready.
End of His Heir, Her Secret Chapter 41. Continue reading Chapter 42 or return to His Heir, Her Secret book page.