His Heir, Her Secret - Chapter 60: Chapter 60

Lucien
The silence in my penthouse wasn’t peaceful—it was tactical. Strategized. Controlled.
I stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the city glitter beneath me like a string of diamonds. The skyline looked like it always had—commanding, confident, defiant. Just like the man I needed to be.
But inside me?
War.
My jaw clenched as I reviewed the latest updates from my legal team. Damon had filed a request to expedite the custody hearing. He was trying to outmaneuver me—fast-tracking court dates, manipulating technicalities, and painting Isla as unstable. A predictable, desperate tactic. And one that wouldn’t work.
Not on my watch.
“Mr. Wolfe?” Devon’s voice broke through the silence as he stepped into the penthouse. My head of security had never looked this tightly wound. He adjusted his earpiece. “There’s been movement.”
I turned slowly. “What kind of movement?”
Devon handed me a tablet. A security still of Damon leaving the glass doors of a family law firm. Not just any firm. One known for aggressive, high-profile, scandal-ridden takeovers of parental rights. His smug face flashed in the captured image—looking far too confident for someone who just lost in front of the entire city.
“He’s doubling down,” I muttered.
“And pulling strings with Judge Rudd,” Devon added. “We’ve verified two rounds of communication. Damon’s trying to influence a switch in judges under the guise of ‘conflict of interest.’”
I swore under my breath. Rudd was a family friend of Damon’s late uncle. If that judge took the case, I’d be dealing with more than legal games—I’d be battling corruption dressed up as justice.
“I want a press counterstrategy drafted tonight. And I want a formal petition filed to block Rudd’s assignment. I’ll send it myself if I have to.”
“Yes, sir.”
I set the tablet down and moved toward my office, the marble floors echoing underfoot like the ticking of a war drum. I didn’t bother loosening my tie. Not yet. Not until I knew Leo was safe. Not until Damon was out of reach.
Inside, my desk was covered in folders. Custody paperwork. Media packets. My personal legal team had flown in from Geneva this morning and were still holed up in a conference room downstairs. But this wasn’t just about law—it was about leverage.
And I had mine.
A small velvet box sat in the center of the desk. It wasn’t a ring. Not yet. That would be premature, even reckless given the public pressure mounting on Isla. But it was something else. A locket—custom-designed. Gold, engraved. Isla’s initials intertwined with Leo’s on one side, and my own on the other.
It was meant to symbolize unity.
A future.
I stared at it for a long moment before closing the lid. Not yet.
Not until I destroyed every last route Damon had to them.
The intercom on my desk buzzed. I hit the button.
“Lucien,” came Nolan’s voice—my lead attorney. “He’s making a move through CPS. Filing concerns about Leo’s safety in your presence, citing your ‘volatile corporate lifestyle’ and ‘media scandalousness.’ It’s thin, but it could slow us down.”
I let out a sharp breath through my nose. “So he wants to paint me as dangerous now?”
“It’s not about truth. It’s about perception. Especially with the court of public opinion watching.”
I ended the call and sat, hands steepled. I needed to stay two steps ahead. No emotion. Just precision. Ruthlessness in the name of protection.
But even the steel-edged version of me couldn’t stop my thoughts from drifting to Isla.
How she held Leo like the world narrowed to nothing but his breath.
How her voice shook—but didn’t break—when she said, “No one takes him from me.”
How her eyes, filled with so much fear, still managed to burn with fury.
She didn’t deserve this. And Leo didn’t either.
This wasn’t just about winning a legal battle. It was about rewriting the narrative.
So I rose again.
Walked back to the window.
And picked up the phone.
“Release the exclusive interview,” I told Elise, my head of public relations. “Tonight. And make sure the headline hits every major outlet by morning.”
She hesitated. “Are you sure? It’s bold. We’re risking exposure on every front.”
“Exactly. Damon’s playing in the shadows. Let’s shine the goddamn spotlight.”
I hung up, staring into the glittering night like it owed me answers.
Because the world was about to hear it from me—not a rumor, not a scandal sheet, not an anonymous source.
I was Lucien Wolfe, and I was claiming my heir.
Not in whispers.
In thunder.
And then—I would come for the woman I let go once.
This time, I wouldn’t lose her.
The press release dropped before dawn. Headlines exploded across every major news outlet within the hour.
“LUCIEN WOLFE CLAIMS SECRET SON IN BOMBSHELL INTERVIEW”
But as I stood in the silence of my penthouse, staring at the world erupting in the glow of screens, my phone lit up with a name I hadn’t seen in years.
Ava Langford.
And underneath her message, two words that made my blood run cold:
“We need to talk.”