His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Isla
I watched the sunlight dance on the polished marble floors of Lucien’s penthouse, my reflection faintly staring back at me through the massive windows overlooking Manhattan. It should have felt luxurious, comforting even—but all I could feel was the tight knot in my stomach.
The world had shifted. Again.
First, Lucien’s bold press conference. Then Damon’s move for custody. And now… the waiting. The silence before the next storm.
Leo was in the playroom down the hall, laughing softly with Marie, the nanny Lucien trusted with his life. I could hear the faint tinkling of toy blocks, the soft cadence of his little voice forming stories only he could understand.
But I wasn’t there with him. I was in the kitchen, clutching a porcelain mug filled with a tea I hadn’t touched. My mind was racing, retracing every step that had led us here—every secret, every truth, every moment I thought I was doing what was best for my son.
Now I wasn’t so sure anymore.
The door behind me creaked slightly, and I didn’t have to turn to know it was Lucien. I recognized the weight of his presence, the soft drag of his Italian leather shoes, the quiet inhale he took when he was trying to steel himself for something.
He didn’t speak at first. He simply stood behind me, a long silence stretching between us. And then, his voice—low, measured.
“He’s going to fight dirty.”
I nodded, still not facing him. “I know.”
“I’ve already pulled every legal string I can. I have private investigators building a case against Damon—every woman he’s hurt, every business deal he buried. But Isla…” His voice cracked slightly, “He’s still Leo’s biological father. That alone gives him leverage.”
Finally, I turned. “Do you think I don’t know that? I lived with that man. I know exactly how he operates. He’s going to make it about money, status, appearances. And I’m—” I paused, swallowing down the lump in my throat, “I’m the woman who ran. The one who kept a child hidden. I’m the easy villain in this story.”
Lucien crossed the space between us, his expression taut with emotion. “You’re not the villain. You’re the mother. The one who protected him. You don’t need to apologize for that—not to anyone.”
“Even to you?”
His jaw clenched. “Especially not to me.”
I looked down at my hands, the mug shaking slightly. “I’m scared, Lucien. What if the court sees him as a viable father just because of his last name or his bank account? What if—what if they take Leo away from me?”
Lucien stepped closer, gently taking the mug from my hands and setting it on the counter. Then he cupped my face, forcing me to look up into his eyes. “I won’t let that happen. No judge on this planet will take your son away while I still have breath in my body. And he’s our son now. You’re not doing this alone anymore.”
The fierceness in his voice steadied something in me, even if only a little. But I wasn’t naive enough to think passion alone could win a custody battle.
“There’s something I haven’t told you,” I said, my voice trembling.
Lucien didn’t flinch. “What is it?”
I hesitated. “When I left Damon, I didn’t just run. I… I filed a police report. For emotional abuse. He never touched me, but—he broke things. He screamed. He made threats when I told him I was pregnant. But the case was closed due to lack of evidence.”
Lucien’s eyes darkened. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“Because I was ashamed. Because I didn’t want Leo to grow up knowing the man who shares his DNA once threatened to leave us with nothing.” My voice cracked. “But maybe it’s time we stop hiding. Maybe it’s time to use the truth instead of running from it.”
Lucien pulled me into his arms without hesitation, pressing his lips to my hair. “Thank you for telling me. We’ll use everything. I don’t care if it’s a ten-year-old police report or a whisper from a witness—I’ll make sure the court knows who Damon truly is.”
I leaned into him, letting the strength of his embrace hold me up. For the first time, I let the tears come. Not the sobbing kind, just soft, silent ones that slipped down my cheeks and soaked into his shirt.
When I finally pulled back, I asked, “And what about us?”
He brushed a strand of hair from my face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… when this is over. If we win. If we survive. What happens then? Do we go back to pretending we’re from different worlds?”
Lucien shook his head slowly, cupping my cheek again. “Isla, the second I laid eyes on Leo, everything changed. And when I found out he was mine? There was no going back. Not for me. You and Leo—you’re everything.”
It was terrifying to hear. Terrifying to believe. But part of me—maybe the part that still dreamed in quiet moments—wanted to.
“Then let’s fight. Not just against Damon. But for something too. For a future.”
Lucien smiled faintly, his eyes shimmering with something that looked like hope. “Then let’s start now.”
Just then, Leo’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Mommy! Look at my tower!”
We turned, and there he stood, beaming proudly with a stuffed lion in one hand and his tiny wooden creation in the other.
Lucien stepped forward, crouched down to Leo’s level, and said, “I want to see too, champ.”
Leo grinned, then paused, looking at Lucien with the serious expression only a four-year-old could wear. “Will you stay forever now?”
The question was innocent. Sweet. But it struck deep.
Lucien didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going anywhere, Leo. Ever again.”
And as they walked down the hallway together—father and son—I followed them slowly, my heart aching and soaring all at once.
We were a family. Imperfect. Unconventional. Scarred by secrets.
But still—whole.
And we were ready for whatever came next.