All Chapters of His Heir, Her Secret: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Isla I never thought I’d be the kind of woman who needed a war room. But this morning, as I stood in the heart of Lucien’s penthouse, surrounded by folders marked “Cross v. Wolfe,” I realized that survival sometimes looked like strategy and sacrifice stacked in color-coded binders. My fingers trembled slightly as I flipped through the latest motion our lawyers had filed—another rebuttal to Damon’s petition for full custody. Just seeing my name and Leo’s name on a legal document like that made my stomach clench. Leo was on the floor behind me, absorbed in building a crooked tower with Lucien’s cufflinks and a half-finished puzzle. Every so often, he’d hum to himself or call out for me to look at something. I kept turning around to smile, to reassure him with my eyes—even as my heart tried to claw out of my chest. Lucien had gone to meet with the PR team after speaking to that journalist, Camilla Dane. He’d made good on his promise to go public, and the media hadn’t wasted a second

Isla I didn’t think I could stop shaking. Not after watching Lucien stand at that podium—his voice calm, his words deliberate—as he looked straight into the camera and told the world that Leo was his son. He hadn’t wavered. Not once. Even as the room of journalists exploded with questions, even as the cameras flashed like lightning in a summer storm. I stood behind the privacy glass of his office, heart thundering in my chest, clutching a silk scarf in my hand like it could somehow anchor me to the ground. Lucien hadn’t just claimed Leo. He’d claimed me too. He said my name. Isla Monroe. Not just the mother of his son. The woman who had raised Leo with grace and grit. The woman he’d failed, and the woman he would now stand beside. He didn’t say love. But every syllable—every breath—had felt like a vow. The press ate it up like wolves around a feast. I knew what would happen next. My face would be on headlines. There’d be speculation, analysis, trolls, support, gossip. But no

Isla There’s a strange kind of stillness after a storm. The air feels too clean. The quiet feels too loud. That’s how it feels now—wrapped in Lucien’s arms on the terrace, watching the world below move on, completely unaware that mine has shifted on its axis. He’s not just promising to protect Leo anymore. He’s stepping into the fire with us. And that terrifies me more than anything Damon could ever do. I slip from Lucien’s arms gently, my fingers lingering for a second longer than they need to. I’m afraid if I don’t let go now, I never will. He gives me space, his gaze steady and warm, as if sensing the thousand thoughts flying through my head. “I should check on Leo,” I say softly. Lucien doesn’t stop me. He just nods once, like he knows I need the familiarity of my son to anchor me. Upstairs, I find Leo exactly where I left him—on the rug in the living room, building a wildly crooked skyscraper from wooden blocks. He grins when he sees me. “Mommy, I made a tower like Daddy’

Lucien I stared at the letter again, the glossy corporate paper bearing Damon Cross’s law firm’s crest like a personal insult. Petition for Custody. The words were clinical. Precise. But I knew what they really meant. A declaration of war. I paced the length of my penthouse office, the skyline of Manhattan stretching endlessly beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Lights sparkled like a thousand eyes watching me, as if the entire city held its breath. “She’s not going to handle this well,” I muttered under my breath. The “she” didn’t need clarifying. Isla had already given too much — her peace, her freedom, her sense of safety — all to protect Leo. And now this? Now, Damon wanted to pretend he had the right to take any of that from her. From us. My phone buzzed on the desk, and I snatched it up without checking the screen. “Talk.” My lawyer, Victor Lang, didn’t even flinch. “I’ve read the petition three times. He’s leaning heavily on the fact that you only recently acknowled

Isla The courtroom had become a blur of murmurs and tension, but all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat, thudding like a warning drum. Lucien’s hand remained warm and steady in mine, an anchor amidst the chaos. Damon’s move had been bold—filed through a backdoor family court motion under the guise of concern, claiming Lucien’s public declaration had “endangered” Leo’s wellbeing. But the truth was simpler and far more sinister. He was trying to take my son. And the terrifying part? He wasn’t bluffing. I sat on the edge of the leather bench outside the judge’s chambers, staring at the closed door like it might crack open and deliver a verdict that could change everything. Leo was safe, tucked away at Lucien’s penthouse with one of the most discreet, highly-trained security details money could buy. But I still felt like I was being slowly peeled open, layer by layer. “He’s trying to paint me as unfit,” I whispered, more to myself than to Lucien. “You’re not,” he said im