His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 55: Chapter 55
You are reading His Heir, Her Secret, Chapter 55: Chapter 55. Read more chapters of His Heir, Her Secret.
Isla
The scent of Lucien’s cologne lingered long after he left—a blend of spice and midnight, comfort and danger. I stood by the window in my apartment, arms wrapped around myself, watching the city lights shimmer in the darkness like a million secrets just waiting to be exposed.
Behind me, Leo was asleep, his small frame cocooned in the covers, Lucien’s tiger plushie clutched tightly in his arms.
I should have felt safe. I should have felt comforted. But all I felt was the low thrum of dread under my skin.
Damon had been at Leo’s school. Not even subtle about it. Just… present. Watching. Reminding me that he still could.
I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the windowsill.
I hadn’t expected Lucien to come tonight. Not after the day we’d had. The press storm, the boardroom meetings I wasn’t part of but could feel the ripple effects of, the eyes everywhere now watching me—not just because I was once the billionaire’s mistress, but because I was the woman he’d chosen to claim publicly, scandal and all.
And yet he came. He brought Leo a tiger. He stayed long enough to soothe the fear I hadn’t known how to hide.
I turned from the window and made my way into the kitchen. The tea I’d brewed an hour ago had gone cold, untouched. I dumped it out, refilled the kettle, and waited for the steam to fill the silence.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
A text.
From a number I didn’t recognize.
You think he can protect you now? He’s just a distraction. I’m coming for what’s mine.
I stared at the screen, fingers numb.
Not if. When.
I closed my eyes for a long moment before forwarding the message to Lucien. Within seconds, the typing indicator popped up.
Lucien: Already on it. That number’s being traced. You’re not alone.
And that’s what undid me. Not the threat. Not the reminder that Damon was still circling like a vulture overhead. But Lucien’s words.
You’re not alone.
I pressed a fist to my mouth and sank into the kitchen stool, trying not to cry. Not now. Not when I needed to be strong. Not when Leo was asleep in the next room with no idea that his existence had become a battlefield.
I’d spent years convincing myself I could do this on my own. That if I was careful enough, quiet enough, invisible enough, the past wouldn’t find us.
But invisibility had its limits. Especially when love—real, all-consuming love—entered the equation.
And Lucien… he wasn’t just a man in my life now. He was in Leo’s life. In my bones.
I’d let myself fall, somewhere along the way. And there was no safety net.
The kettle whistled. I poured the water, made the tea again, and this time took it with me to the living room. I curled up on the couch, phone clutched in one hand, mug in the other, and tried to steady my racing mind.
A soft knock on the door jolted me upright.
I froze. Heart in my throat.
Three short knocks, then one long one. The pattern Lucien had told his guards to use.
I moved carefully to the door, checked the security peephole. It was one of his men—tall, blond, crisply dressed and dead-eyed in a way that told me he’d seen things I hadn’t.
I opened the door a crack. “Yes?”
“Ms. Monroe. I’m Marco. Mr. Wolfe sent me. I’ll be stationed outside tonight. My partner’s downstairs in the lobby. You’re covered.”
I exhaled, tension bleeding from my shoulders. “Thank you.”
He nodded once and stepped back into the hallway, assuming his post like a sentry.
I closed the door slowly and locked it again, but this time, my hands weren’t shaking. There was something stabilizing about knowing someone else was watching. That I wasn’t the only one carrying the weight of keeping Leo safe.
The apartment felt too quiet after that. I wandered back to the couch, wrapped myself in a throw, and stared at my phone screen. There were messages I hadn’t answered—Soraya, checking in. My lawyer, confirming documents Lucien had expedited. My sister, Elena, who had seen the news and sent a cryptic “So… now what?” that I didn’t have the heart to answer yet.
And Lucien.
Another message now blinking.
Lucien: You okay?
I typed.
Me: Trying. Thank you for the tiger.
Lucien: He needed something to guard him. I’ll find a bigger one for you if you want.
I smiled despite everything. He always knew how to disarm the fear before it swallowed me whole.
Me: You already did.
A pause. Then three dots.
Lucien: You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, Isla. But you don’t have to be invincible anymore. Let me help carry this.
Tears pricked my eyes again, hot and unwelcome. I set the phone down and whispered into the quiet, “I’m trying.”
And I was. Every hour, every breath, every time I fought the impulse to bolt and take Leo to some corner of the world where no one knew our names.
But maybe running wasn’t the only kind of protection.
Maybe standing your ground—flanked by someone who refused to let go—was a different kind of escape.
One worth staying for.
I glanced at Leo’s bedroom door. The tiger was in good hands tonight.
So was I.
The scent of Lucien’s cologne lingered long after he left—a blend of spice and midnight, comfort and danger. I stood by the window in my apartment, arms wrapped around myself, watching the city lights shimmer in the darkness like a million secrets just waiting to be exposed.
Behind me, Leo was asleep, his small frame cocooned in the covers, Lucien’s tiger plushie clutched tightly in his arms.
I should have felt safe. I should have felt comforted. But all I felt was the low thrum of dread under my skin.
Damon had been at Leo’s school. Not even subtle about it. Just… present. Watching. Reminding me that he still could.
I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the windowsill.
I hadn’t expected Lucien to come tonight. Not after the day we’d had. The press storm, the boardroom meetings I wasn’t part of but could feel the ripple effects of, the eyes everywhere now watching me—not just because I was once the billionaire’s mistress, but because I was the woman he’d chosen to claim publicly, scandal and all.
And yet he came. He brought Leo a tiger. He stayed long enough to soothe the fear I hadn’t known how to hide.
I turned from the window and made my way into the kitchen. The tea I’d brewed an hour ago had gone cold, untouched. I dumped it out, refilled the kettle, and waited for the steam to fill the silence.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
A text.
From a number I didn’t recognize.
You think he can protect you now? He’s just a distraction. I’m coming for what’s mine.
I stared at the screen, fingers numb.
Not if. When.
I closed my eyes for a long moment before forwarding the message to Lucien. Within seconds, the typing indicator popped up.
Lucien: Already on it. That number’s being traced. You’re not alone.
And that’s what undid me. Not the threat. Not the reminder that Damon was still circling like a vulture overhead. But Lucien’s words.
You’re not alone.
I pressed a fist to my mouth and sank into the kitchen stool, trying not to cry. Not now. Not when I needed to be strong. Not when Leo was asleep in the next room with no idea that his existence had become a battlefield.
I’d spent years convincing myself I could do this on my own. That if I was careful enough, quiet enough, invisible enough, the past wouldn’t find us.
But invisibility had its limits. Especially when love—real, all-consuming love—entered the equation.
And Lucien… he wasn’t just a man in my life now. He was in Leo’s life. In my bones.
I’d let myself fall, somewhere along the way. And there was no safety net.
The kettle whistled. I poured the water, made the tea again, and this time took it with me to the living room. I curled up on the couch, phone clutched in one hand, mug in the other, and tried to steady my racing mind.
A soft knock on the door jolted me upright.
I froze. Heart in my throat.
Three short knocks, then one long one. The pattern Lucien had told his guards to use.
I moved carefully to the door, checked the security peephole. It was one of his men—tall, blond, crisply dressed and dead-eyed in a way that told me he’d seen things I hadn’t.
I opened the door a crack. “Yes?”
“Ms. Monroe. I’m Marco. Mr. Wolfe sent me. I’ll be stationed outside tonight. My partner’s downstairs in the lobby. You’re covered.”
I exhaled, tension bleeding from my shoulders. “Thank you.”
He nodded once and stepped back into the hallway, assuming his post like a sentry.
I closed the door slowly and locked it again, but this time, my hands weren’t shaking. There was something stabilizing about knowing someone else was watching. That I wasn’t the only one carrying the weight of keeping Leo safe.
The apartment felt too quiet after that. I wandered back to the couch, wrapped myself in a throw, and stared at my phone screen. There were messages I hadn’t answered—Soraya, checking in. My lawyer, confirming documents Lucien had expedited. My sister, Elena, who had seen the news and sent a cryptic “So… now what?” that I didn’t have the heart to answer yet.
And Lucien.
Another message now blinking.
Lucien: You okay?
I typed.
Me: Trying. Thank you for the tiger.
Lucien: He needed something to guard him. I’ll find a bigger one for you if you want.
I smiled despite everything. He always knew how to disarm the fear before it swallowed me whole.
Me: You already did.
A pause. Then three dots.
Lucien: You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever met, Isla. But you don’t have to be invincible anymore. Let me help carry this.
Tears pricked my eyes again, hot and unwelcome. I set the phone down and whispered into the quiet, “I’m trying.”
And I was. Every hour, every breath, every time I fought the impulse to bolt and take Leo to some corner of the world where no one knew our names.
But maybe running wasn’t the only kind of protection.
Maybe standing your ground—flanked by someone who refused to let go—was a different kind of escape.
One worth staying for.
I glanced at Leo’s bedroom door. The tiger was in good hands tonight.
So was I.
End of His Heir, Her Secret Chapter 55. Continue reading Chapter 56 or return to His Heir, Her Secret book page.