His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 46: Chapter 46
You are reading His Heir, Her Secret, Chapter 46: Chapter 46. Read more chapters of His Heir, Her Secret.
Isla
For the first time in days, the penthouse felt still. Not quiet—Leo was humming from the living room while Lucien helped him with a new puzzle—but still, in the way a storm finally pauses to gather strength again.
Genevieve’s visit had left ripples in her wake, but they weren’t the kind that unsettled me. If anything, they reaffirmed something I hadn’t yet said out loud: I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was starting to belong.
I leaned against the doorway, watching Lucien crouch beside Leo. The contrast of his tailored shirt and rolled-up sleeves next to Leo’s tousled curls and cartoon t-shirt made something tender twist in my chest.
Lucien looked up and caught me staring. “We’re stuck,” he said, smiling faintly. “Apparently, the sun doesn’t go in the sky. It goes ‘next to the giraffe,’ according to our expert here.”
Leo nodded seriously. “The giraffe is happy when it’s sunny.”
“Well, there you go,” I murmured, walking over and sitting beside them on the carpet. “That’s as solid a logic as I’ve heard today.”
Lucien chuckled and shifted so his shoulder brushed mine. The warmth of his body, the casual intimacy of it, made my throat tighten. Since that morning—his press conference, his declaration—I hadn’t found the right words. Or maybe I was still afraid to believe them.
“I was thinking,” he said quietly, once Leo trotted off toMonroe his building blocks. “We should take him away for the weekend. Just us. Somewhere quiet.”
“Are we even allowed that kind of normal?”
“I’ll make us a world where we are,” he replied, without hesitation.
I stared at him, heart beating fast.
He wasn’t just saying it to soothe me. He meant it. With every press interview, every legal document filed, every room he entered with my name on his lips—he was reshaping his universe around Leo and me.
I placed a hand on his knee. “Lucien… this world of yours—does it have space for who I was? Not just Leo’s mother, but the girl who ran? The woman who didn’t trust you?”
His eyes darkened, but not with anger. With understanding.
“I don’t want to erase who you were, Isla,” he said. “I just want to build something with who you are now.”
There it was—his truth. Simple. Powerful.
I should have told him about the letter then. About the envelope I found in the mailroom this morning with my name scrawled in Damon’s handwriting. I hadn’t opened it. I’d stared at it like it was a ticking bomb. And maybe it was. But just for a moment, I wanted to live in this fragile peace before I shattered it.
“I have something to tell you,” I began—but a sharp knock at the door cut me off.
Lucien stood instantly. His security team didn’t let anyone up here without clearance. That knock meant someone had slipped through or was invited by someone with power.
He signaled for me to stay back and walked toMonroe the door.
“Mr. Wolfe,” said his head of security as soon as the door opened. “Apologies. He insisted—said it was a family matter.”
“Who?” Lucien asked tightly.
And then I heard the voice I hadn’t heard in five years.
“Lucien,” said the man I’d prayed would never find me again. “Isla.”
Damon.
I moved before I could stop myself, rounding the corner so fast Leo’s blocks tumbled behind me.
He stood just outside the threshold—immaculate as always in an expensive suit, his smile tight and cold.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said to me. Then he looked past me. “And that must be Leo.”
Lucien stepped between us. “You’re trespassing. You’re not on the guest list.”
Damon lifted a folder from under his arm and tossed it at Lucien’s feet. “Consider this my official introduction.”
Lucien didn’t move. I did.
I bent and picked up the folder. My name was on the envelope. But the stamp—it wasn’t from New York. It was from a private law office in Miami.
“I’ve filed for partial custody,” Damon said coolly. “You were never married. He’s mine too.”
The hallway shrank around me. Every ounce of air left my lungs.
Lucien’s voice was lethal. “You’ll be lucky to walk away from this building without a permanent limp.”
“You can huff and puff all you want, Wolfe,” Damon said. “But the law’s the law. I have rights. And Isla doesn’t get to disappear with my son and rewrite history.”
“You don’t get to say his name,” I spat, stepping forMonroe.
Lucien caught my hand and pulled me back. “Go inside,” he told me.
“I’m not leaving you—”
“Isla. Please.”
The please undid me.
I turned, heart pounding, and gathered Leo in my arms. He was too young to understand, but I wouldn’t risk a second more. I carried him into the bedroom and locked the door behind us.
When I pressed my ear to the wall, I heard nothing.
Not Lucien’s voice. Not Damon’s.
Just silence.
And then, a few minutes later, the faint sound of the elevator descending.
Lucien came in a few minutes later. His shirt was wrinkled. His hands were trembling.
He didn’t say anything—just sat on the edge of the bed where Leo now slept in a pile of blankets, oblivious.
I knelt beside him.
“I should have told you,” I whispered. “He sent a letter. I didn’t open it. I was afraid—”
“I don’t blame you.”
He looked at me, eyes hard and shining.
“But I will destroy him. Isla, I swear to you. I will burn every bridge he tries to cross. He doesn’t touch Leo. Not while I’m breathing.”
I reached for him, pulled him close.
And for the first time, we weren’t holding each other out of desire.
We were bracing for war.
For the first time in days, the penthouse felt still. Not quiet—Leo was humming from the living room while Lucien helped him with a new puzzle—but still, in the way a storm finally pauses to gather strength again.
Genevieve’s visit had left ripples in her wake, but they weren’t the kind that unsettled me. If anything, they reaffirmed something I hadn’t yet said out loud: I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was starting to belong.
I leaned against the doorway, watching Lucien crouch beside Leo. The contrast of his tailored shirt and rolled-up sleeves next to Leo’s tousled curls and cartoon t-shirt made something tender twist in my chest.
Lucien looked up and caught me staring. “We’re stuck,” he said, smiling faintly. “Apparently, the sun doesn’t go in the sky. It goes ‘next to the giraffe,’ according to our expert here.”
Leo nodded seriously. “The giraffe is happy when it’s sunny.”
“Well, there you go,” I murmured, walking over and sitting beside them on the carpet. “That’s as solid a logic as I’ve heard today.”
Lucien chuckled and shifted so his shoulder brushed mine. The warmth of his body, the casual intimacy of it, made my throat tighten. Since that morning—his press conference, his declaration—I hadn’t found the right words. Or maybe I was still afraid to believe them.
“I was thinking,” he said quietly, once Leo trotted off toMonroe his building blocks. “We should take him away for the weekend. Just us. Somewhere quiet.”
“Are we even allowed that kind of normal?”
“I’ll make us a world where we are,” he replied, without hesitation.
I stared at him, heart beating fast.
He wasn’t just saying it to soothe me. He meant it. With every press interview, every legal document filed, every room he entered with my name on his lips—he was reshaping his universe around Leo and me.
I placed a hand on his knee. “Lucien… this world of yours—does it have space for who I was? Not just Leo’s mother, but the girl who ran? The woman who didn’t trust you?”
His eyes darkened, but not with anger. With understanding.
“I don’t want to erase who you were, Isla,” he said. “I just want to build something with who you are now.”
There it was—his truth. Simple. Powerful.
I should have told him about the letter then. About the envelope I found in the mailroom this morning with my name scrawled in Damon’s handwriting. I hadn’t opened it. I’d stared at it like it was a ticking bomb. And maybe it was. But just for a moment, I wanted to live in this fragile peace before I shattered it.
“I have something to tell you,” I began—but a sharp knock at the door cut me off.
Lucien stood instantly. His security team didn’t let anyone up here without clearance. That knock meant someone had slipped through or was invited by someone with power.
He signaled for me to stay back and walked toMonroe the door.
“Mr. Wolfe,” said his head of security as soon as the door opened. “Apologies. He insisted—said it was a family matter.”
“Who?” Lucien asked tightly.
And then I heard the voice I hadn’t heard in five years.
“Lucien,” said the man I’d prayed would never find me again. “Isla.”
Damon.
I moved before I could stop myself, rounding the corner so fast Leo’s blocks tumbled behind me.
He stood just outside the threshold—immaculate as always in an expensive suit, his smile tight and cold.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he said to me. Then he looked past me. “And that must be Leo.”
Lucien stepped between us. “You’re trespassing. You’re not on the guest list.”
Damon lifted a folder from under his arm and tossed it at Lucien’s feet. “Consider this my official introduction.”
Lucien didn’t move. I did.
I bent and picked up the folder. My name was on the envelope. But the stamp—it wasn’t from New York. It was from a private law office in Miami.
“I’ve filed for partial custody,” Damon said coolly. “You were never married. He’s mine too.”
The hallway shrank around me. Every ounce of air left my lungs.
Lucien’s voice was lethal. “You’ll be lucky to walk away from this building without a permanent limp.”
“You can huff and puff all you want, Wolfe,” Damon said. “But the law’s the law. I have rights. And Isla doesn’t get to disappear with my son and rewrite history.”
“You don’t get to say his name,” I spat, stepping forMonroe.
Lucien caught my hand and pulled me back. “Go inside,” he told me.
“I’m not leaving you—”
“Isla. Please.”
The please undid me.
I turned, heart pounding, and gathered Leo in my arms. He was too young to understand, but I wouldn’t risk a second more. I carried him into the bedroom and locked the door behind us.
When I pressed my ear to the wall, I heard nothing.
Not Lucien’s voice. Not Damon’s.
Just silence.
And then, a few minutes later, the faint sound of the elevator descending.
Lucien came in a few minutes later. His shirt was wrinkled. His hands were trembling.
He didn’t say anything—just sat on the edge of the bed where Leo now slept in a pile of blankets, oblivious.
I knelt beside him.
“I should have told you,” I whispered. “He sent a letter. I didn’t open it. I was afraid—”
“I don’t blame you.”
He looked at me, eyes hard and shining.
“But I will destroy him. Isla, I swear to you. I will burn every bridge he tries to cross. He doesn’t touch Leo. Not while I’m breathing.”
I reached for him, pulled him close.
And for the first time, we weren’t holding each other out of desire.
We were bracing for war.
End of His Heir, Her Secret Chapter 46. Continue reading Chapter 47 or return to His Heir, Her Secret book page.