All Chapters of THE BOY WHO COULD BEAR AN HEIR : Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Chapter 21: A Breath of Peace? I hope. It had been three days since that incident in the study, and two full days of unbelievable peace. For once, Lucien could breathe without constantly looking over his shoulder. Zayn hadn’t been home for three days now, and the house felt lighter—less tense. He was quite satisfied with the absence. Standing at the sink, Lucien scrubbed the pot slowly, his hands moving on their own. His mind, however, was miles away. It wandered back to yesterday—last night, to be precise. His expression gradually changed from neutral to a pained one. Roman had come to say goodbye. He said he had to travel out of the country to take care of his paternal grandmother, who had fallen seriously ill. As a doctor, Roman was needed there, and he didn't know when he'd be back. Lucien hadn’t taken it well. He had cried. Roman had hugged him tightly, whispering reassuring words, telling him to be strong, promising to call when he could. But none of those words felt

Vera came down the grand staircase, humming softly to herself, her heels clicking gently against the marble steps. Her face was lit with a cheerful smile, as though nothing in the world could ruin her mood this evening. But that smile quickly began to fade. The maids, who had gathered around the hallway, quickly dispersed as they noticed her coming. Some lowered their heads, others turned away. It was strange. Vera narrowed her eyes. She paused at the foot of the stairs and called out sharply, "You. Come here." One of the younger maids hesitated, then hurried over, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her apron. "What’s going on? Why is everyone acting like there’s a funeral?" The maid didn’t respond immediately. Vera’s voice grew firmer. "Speak!" "Ma’am… it’s Emily and… and the boy. Lucien. They… they’re in trouble." Vera’s smile vanished completely. Her eyebrows shot up. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?" The maid lowered her head. "I think it’s best if you ask Mr. Mark

Vera stood in the center of her room, pacing back and forth like a storm trapped in a glass box. Her phone was pressed tightly against her ear, her brows drawn together, lips pulled tight in frustration. "Will you stop yelling?" she snapped into the phone, her voice low but sharp. "Do you think it's easy trying to go through with the plan? Zayn has not been around and when I put the poison inside his food thinking he would eat this night, I never knew he would personally go save that boy!" Her hand trembled slightly, but she tried to steady herself, wrapping her free arm around her waist as she walked to the edge of the bed and sat down hard. Arnold's voice crackled through the speaker, loud and furious. "If you had focused on the plan and not troubled yourself with that boy, things wouldn't have gotten this far out of hand. Our plans would have been falling into place by now. So yeah, it's practically your fault!" Vera scoffed, pushing herself back up and resuming her frantic

A sleek black car rolled through the grand gates of Zayn’s mansion, the tires crunching softly against the stone-paved driveway. It came to a smooth stop just in front of the marble staircase that led to the main entrance. The door opened, and Arnold stepped out. He wore a dark blue tailored suit that hugged his lean frame, the cuffs of his white shirt crisp and folded perfectly beneath his sleeves. His shoes were polished to a mirror shine, and a subtle gold chain peeked from under his collar. Arnold raised his head slightly and looked around—at the tall pillars, the high glass windows, the well-manicured lawn, and the guards stationed like statues at strategic corners. His eyes glittered with something between admiration and ambition. “One day,” he muttered under his breath, lips barely moving. “All of this… will be mine. Just a matter of time.” He adjusted the cuffs of his suit and walked confidently toward the entrance. The guards stationed by the door gave a short bow, recog

Lucien stood stiffly in Zayn’s study, unsure whether to sit or remain standing. He shifted from one foot to the other, his legs aching slightly from the long wait. Eventually, the pain won. He slowly sank into the chair, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the floor. His thoughts drifted to Zayn. Fear still lingered in his chest. No matter how many times Zayn had hit him before, it never got easier. But this time, Lucien had made up his mind—whatever Zayn decided to do, he would accept it. He let out a loud sigh, shoulders slumping in silent defeat. His mind wandered next to Emily. Since he woke up, he hadn’t seen her. Normally, she would stop by with a quiet smile when the kitchen work slowed down especially what happened with them.. But today? Nothing. Lucien shrugged. She was probably still busy. His stomach growled, reminding him of his real concern at the moment—he was starving. Another sigh escaped him, this time from deep hunger. He was so hungry he could e