Dear Readers, PLEASE, I WILL NEED YOUR RESPONSE ON THIS🙏 Thank you so much for reading my book up to this point. We are now getting close to the ending, and I am truly grateful for all your love and support along the way. I would also love to share something important with you—on September 23rd, I will be taking part in a competition. For this, I will really need your votes and support. Even though this novel will soon come to an end, I sincerely hope you won’t forget me and my request. Please, please mark the date—September 23rd—and remember to vote for me. You can also visit my *** account to stay updated and follow along with the journey. Your encouragement means the world to me. Thank you again, and let’s make this dream possible together! 💖 *** account: Beauty Maryjane PLEASE I WILL YOUR RESPONSE
Hello dear readers ❤️❤️❤️,I want to start by saying a very big thank you to every single one of you who has been with me throughout this journey. Finally, we have come to the end of The Boy Who Could Be An Heir, and my heart is full. Without your love, encouragement, and constant support, this story would never have been possible.When I first started this novel, I honestly doubted it. The idea came to me, and I remember asking myself: “What kind of crazy idea is this? Will people even read it? Will they understand what I want to say?” A part of me thought it would fail before it even began. But something in me whispered to try, and I did. And now, standing at the end of this journey, I can say with all my heart: I never regretted it. Not once.This story grew bigger than me. It stopped being just words on a page and became something alive—because of you, my readers. Each comment, each message, each silent reader who turned the pages—you all gave this story its wings. You gave me the
Lucien and Zaylien slid quietly into the back seat of the black car waiting outside the school gates. The boy crossed his arms, eyes set stubbornly on the window. Lucien studied his son carefully, his brows furrowed. There was no trace of guilt, no hint of remorse on Zaylien’s young face. Instead, his expression was cold. Lucien sighed, leaning back against the leather seat. “Just like his father,” he mumbled under his breath, shaking his head as the car engine roared to life. The guard drove them home in silence, the air thick between father and son. When they finally arrived at the mansion, Zaylien quickly hopped out of the car, already rushing towards the staircase as soon as they stepped inside. “Come back here, Zay!” Lucien’s sharp tone rang through the hall. Zaylien froze, shoulders stiffening, before he turned back with that same cold look—the one that reminded Lucien of Zayn. Every time he looked at him, it was like staring at a smaller, younger replica of his husband.
The day had finally arrived. The mansion was buzzing with excitement, the laughter and chatter of guests filling every corner. Lucien stood behind the curtains of the grand hall, adjusting his dress nervously. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from the mix of happiness and anticipation. Today, he would walk down the aisle and promise his life to Zayn, the man who had given him safety, love, and a family. “Papa,” a soft voice called, and he turned to see Zaylien tugging gently at his sleeve. “Am I really the flower boy today?” The little boy’s eyes shone, his tiny hands clutching the petals he was supposed to scatter. “Yes, Zaylien,” Lucien said, kneeling to ruffle his son’s hair. “You have a very important job. You have to make sure Papa and Dad sees how handsome you are and how brave you are.” Zaylien giggled. “I’ll do my best, Papa!” Lucien took a deep breath, smoothing the front of his dress. He could hear the music starting, soft and steady. Guests were takin
~~~~~~FIVE YEARS LATER~~~~~ Five years had passed since that long night in the hospital when Lucien almost slipped away and Zayn nearly lost his mind. But in those years, their world had changed. The mansion, once quiet and filled with shadows of the past, now echoed with small footsteps, laughter, and the occasional loud cry of a stubborn little boy who had become the center of their lives. Their son, Zaylien, had grown into a bright, curious, and mischievous child. He had Zayn’s sharp, watchful eyes but Lucien’s warm, soft smile. Everyone who saw him could not deny that he was the perfect blend of both men. That afternoon, the garden was alive with colors. White roses and lilies decorated the pathway, not because of an event yet, but because Zayn had ordered it in preparation for what was to come. Workers were busy arranging tables, chairs, and lights. At the far end, a woman with a clipboard in her hand directed decorators as she waited for Lucien to give his final approval. L
Lucien shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his hand pressing against his belly. He frowned and took in a sharp breath. “Lucien?” Zayn’s deep voice came immediately as he looked up from his tablet. “What is it?” Lucien shook his head stubbornly. “It’s nothing. Just… maybe the baby kicked too hard.” But Zayn didn’t miss the way Lucien’s face tightened again, his lips pressing together as if to stop a cry. Zayn was already on his feet. “That’s not just a kick,” he said, his tone rising with worry. “Where does it hurt?” Lucien tried to wave him off, but another wave of pain tore through him and he clutched his stomach, groaning. His eyes watered. “Zayn… it hurts. I don’t… I don’t know what’s happening.” Zayn’s heart dropped. He crouched in front of him, holding his hands tightly. “Baby, look at me. Stay with me, alright? You’re going to be fine. I’ll get you to the hospital right now.” Lucien shook his head weakly. “I’m scared, Zayn… is it too early? What if something happens?” “N
The garden was being decorated quietly, fairy lights strung along the trees, soft music playing in the background. Maids moved about quickly, placing roses, candles, and lanterns everywhere. Zayn stood apart from it all, his hands shoved into his pockets, pacing restlessly. His face was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed the storm inside. Selene walked up to him, her gown swishing lightly as she crossed her arms. “Stop pacing, Zayn. You’re making everyone nervous,” she said. “I don’t know if I should do this, Selene,” Zayn muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “What if he says no? What if he looks at me and thinks I’m… too much? What if—” Selene cut him off with a sharp glare. “Zayn, listen to me. That boy loves you. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Do you think anyone else would put up with your temper? Your moods? The way you bark at everyone? He not only puts up with it — he softens it. He softens you.” Zayn’s jaw clenched. He lowered his eyes, whispering, “But he’s