His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 57: Chapter 57
You are reading His Heir, Her Secret, Chapter 57: Chapter 57. Read more chapters of His Heir, Her Secret.
Isla
If sleep had come at all, it had been shallow. The kind that tiptoed around your fears without ever offering true rest.
I sat curled on the window seat of the apartment Lucien had insisted I take—secure, luxurious, and high enough in the Manhattan skyline that it felt like we were above the storm below. But we weren’t. The storm had already found us.
Leo’s plush tiger was nestled beside me, his favorite blanket trailing from the floor where he’d dropped it in his usual whirlwind of morning energy. Now, he was fast asleep in the adjacent room, his chest rising and falling steadily, unaware that his mother’s heart was unraveling by the hour.
Damon’s voice still echoed in my head.
“You think he can protect you now?”
It wasn’t just a threat—it was a challenge. The kind of challenge that came from someone who had nothing to lose and everything to destroy. He’d watched Leo from across the school. Lucien’s team confirmed it last night. He hadn’t tried to cross the street, hadn’t said a word. He didn’t have to.
He was reminding me he still existed.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the cushion. I’d promised Leo peace. A childhood free of fear. A life built on safety, stability, and truth. But the past had a way of crawling back through the cracks, and Damon was no longer just a shadow. He was here. Watching. Plotting.
I stood up and walked to the kitchen, needing to move, to do something. Anything. My reflection caught in the glossy refrigerator door—too pale, too tired, too much like the woman I thought I’d left behind in Paris when I walked away from Lucien five years ago.
But I wasn’t her anymore. I couldn’t afford to be.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Lucien.
Lucien: The lawyer will be there by 9. Just sign the paternity forms. I’ll take care of the rest.
No fluff. No poetry. Just strategy. Action.
But I knew what that tone masked. I’d seen the way his jaw locked last night when I showed him Damon’s message. The way he stood like a storm about to break, hands clenched at his sides as if he needed to hold himself back from tearing the world apart.
He was scared. Not for himself—but for us.
I took a deep breath and typed a reply.
Isla: We’ll be ready. Leo’s still sleeping. I’ll talk to him before they come.
I hesitated, then added:
Isla: Thank you for protecting him. For protecting us.
Three dots appeared. Then vanished.
Then reappeared.
Lucien: Always.
A single word, but I held on to it like a lifeline.
By the time the legal team arrived, Leo was sitting on the floor in his pajamas, carefully arranging his dinosaur toys into a circle like it was storytime.
“Mommy, does the T-Rex get a story too?” he asked as I knelt beside him.
“Of course,” I said, kissing the top of his head. “But we have to do a little test first, remember?”
He nodded, eyes wide. “Like at the doctor?”
“Sort of. Just a swab in your mouth. Super quick. Then you can tell the T-Rex all about it.”
He beamed, the innocence in his face slicing through the anxiety in my chest like a blade. I wanted to protect this version of him with everything I had. Not just from Damon, but from the noise, the lawyers, the whispers, the press. The headlines that had started swirling since Lucien’s conference.
I guided him to the table, smiling through the burn behind my eyes as the technician explained the procedure. Leo was brave, just as I knew he’d be. He even asked for a second swab so the T-Rex could “feel included.”
After they left, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Then the door buzzed.
I froze.
I wasn’t expecting anyone.
I moved slowly toward the panel. Lucien’s team had eyes on the building twenty-four-seven, but the paranoia had already started to set in. What if Damon found a way through? What if he—
“Delivery for Ms. Monroe.”
The voice was calm. Female. My brows furrowed. I hadn’t ordered anything.
Still, I opened the door cautiously.
A young woman stood there, impeccably dressed in a crisp navy uniform with the emblem of a luxury floral boutique embroidered in gold. She held a box in her hands. Not a bouquet—something more intimate.
“For you,” she said, handing it over with a polite smile before disappearing down the hall.
I stepped back into the apartment and opened the lid.
Inside, nestled in folds of midnight blue velvet, was a single gardenia and a small black envelope.
I knew that handwriting.
Lucien.
I opened the card.
For strength. For the storm. For everything we’ve lost—and everything we’re going to reclaim.
—L
I closed my eyes, fingers trembling slightly. The gardenia had been in my hair the first time we danced. The last night we were truly happy—before it all crumbled. Before I left without telling him about the baby growing inside me.
I hadn’t let myself imagine this. That after so much time, so much pain, we could still find pieces of that night tucked between court filings and security protocols.
But somehow, we were.
And that scared me more than anything.
Because I didn’t know how to let myself want him again without fearing what it would cost.
That night, after Leo fell asleep with his dinosaurs standing guard on the windowsill, I stepped onto the balcony. The city hummed around me, alive and unforgiving.
I dialed his number.
He answered on the first ring.
“I got the gardenia,” I said, my voice soft.
There was a beat of silence. “I wasn’t sure if I should send it.”
“You always knew when I needed a reminder,” I whispered.
Lucien exhaled. “I’m going to keep reminding you. As long as it takes.”
I swallowed. “I’m scared, Lucien.”
“I know.” His voice was low, steady. “But you’re not alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”
Another silence stretched between us—but this one didn’t hurt. It was full. Heavy with everything we couldn’t say yet.
Then he added, “You should know… I’ve taken steps. Damon won’t get near you. Or Leo. Not again.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“I meant what I said at the press conference, Isla. You’re mine. Both of you. And I will go to war for you.”
I closed my eyes, letting those words sink into the places where fear still lived.
Maybe it wasn’t over yet.
But for the first time, I didn’t feel powerless.
If sleep had come at all, it had been shallow. The kind that tiptoed around your fears without ever offering true rest.
I sat curled on the window seat of the apartment Lucien had insisted I take—secure, luxurious, and high enough in the Manhattan skyline that it felt like we were above the storm below. But we weren’t. The storm had already found us.
Leo’s plush tiger was nestled beside me, his favorite blanket trailing from the floor where he’d dropped it in his usual whirlwind of morning energy. Now, he was fast asleep in the adjacent room, his chest rising and falling steadily, unaware that his mother’s heart was unraveling by the hour.
Damon’s voice still echoed in my head.
“You think he can protect you now?”
It wasn’t just a threat—it was a challenge. The kind of challenge that came from someone who had nothing to lose and everything to destroy. He’d watched Leo from across the school. Lucien’s team confirmed it last night. He hadn’t tried to cross the street, hadn’t said a word. He didn’t have to.
He was reminding me he still existed.
My fingers tightened around the edge of the cushion. I’d promised Leo peace. A childhood free of fear. A life built on safety, stability, and truth. But the past had a way of crawling back through the cracks, and Damon was no longer just a shadow. He was here. Watching. Plotting.
I stood up and walked to the kitchen, needing to move, to do something. Anything. My reflection caught in the glossy refrigerator door—too pale, too tired, too much like the woman I thought I’d left behind in Paris when I walked away from Lucien five years ago.
But I wasn’t her anymore. I couldn’t afford to be.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Lucien.
Lucien: The lawyer will be there by 9. Just sign the paternity forms. I’ll take care of the rest.
No fluff. No poetry. Just strategy. Action.
But I knew what that tone masked. I’d seen the way his jaw locked last night when I showed him Damon’s message. The way he stood like a storm about to break, hands clenched at his sides as if he needed to hold himself back from tearing the world apart.
He was scared. Not for himself—but for us.
I took a deep breath and typed a reply.
Isla: We’ll be ready. Leo’s still sleeping. I’ll talk to him before they come.
I hesitated, then added:
Isla: Thank you for protecting him. For protecting us.
Three dots appeared. Then vanished.
Then reappeared.
Lucien: Always.
A single word, but I held on to it like a lifeline.
By the time the legal team arrived, Leo was sitting on the floor in his pajamas, carefully arranging his dinosaur toys into a circle like it was storytime.
“Mommy, does the T-Rex get a story too?” he asked as I knelt beside him.
“Of course,” I said, kissing the top of his head. “But we have to do a little test first, remember?”
He nodded, eyes wide. “Like at the doctor?”
“Sort of. Just a swab in your mouth. Super quick. Then you can tell the T-Rex all about it.”
He beamed, the innocence in his face slicing through the anxiety in my chest like a blade. I wanted to protect this version of him with everything I had. Not just from Damon, but from the noise, the lawyers, the whispers, the press. The headlines that had started swirling since Lucien’s conference.
I guided him to the table, smiling through the burn behind my eyes as the technician explained the procedure. Leo was brave, just as I knew he’d be. He even asked for a second swab so the T-Rex could “feel included.”
After they left, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
Then the door buzzed.
I froze.
I wasn’t expecting anyone.
I moved slowly toward the panel. Lucien’s team had eyes on the building twenty-four-seven, but the paranoia had already started to set in. What if Damon found a way through? What if he—
“Delivery for Ms. Monroe.”
The voice was calm. Female. My brows furrowed. I hadn’t ordered anything.
Still, I opened the door cautiously.
A young woman stood there, impeccably dressed in a crisp navy uniform with the emblem of a luxury floral boutique embroidered in gold. She held a box in her hands. Not a bouquet—something more intimate.
“For you,” she said, handing it over with a polite smile before disappearing down the hall.
I stepped back into the apartment and opened the lid.
Inside, nestled in folds of midnight blue velvet, was a single gardenia and a small black envelope.
I knew that handwriting.
Lucien.
I opened the card.
For strength. For the storm. For everything we’ve lost—and everything we’re going to reclaim.
—L
I closed my eyes, fingers trembling slightly. The gardenia had been in my hair the first time we danced. The last night we were truly happy—before it all crumbled. Before I left without telling him about the baby growing inside me.
I hadn’t let myself imagine this. That after so much time, so much pain, we could still find pieces of that night tucked between court filings and security protocols.
But somehow, we were.
And that scared me more than anything.
Because I didn’t know how to let myself want him again without fearing what it would cost.
That night, after Leo fell asleep with his dinosaurs standing guard on the windowsill, I stepped onto the balcony. The city hummed around me, alive and unforgiving.
I dialed his number.
He answered on the first ring.
“I got the gardenia,” I said, my voice soft.
There was a beat of silence. “I wasn’t sure if I should send it.”
“You always knew when I needed a reminder,” I whispered.
Lucien exhaled. “I’m going to keep reminding you. As long as it takes.”
I swallowed. “I’m scared, Lucien.”
“I know.” His voice was low, steady. “But you’re not alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere.”
Another silence stretched between us—but this one didn’t hurt. It was full. Heavy with everything we couldn’t say yet.
Then he added, “You should know… I’ve taken steps. Damon won’t get near you. Or Leo. Not again.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“I meant what I said at the press conference, Isla. You’re mine. Both of you. And I will go to war for you.”
I closed my eyes, letting those words sink into the places where fear still lived.
Maybe it wasn’t over yet.
But for the first time, I didn’t feel powerless.
End of His Heir, Her Secret Chapter 57. Continue reading Chapter 58 or return to His Heir, Her Secret book page.