Lahat ng Kabanata ng THE BOY WHO COULD BEAR AN HEIR : Kabanata 31 - Kabanata 40

Zayn sat quietly in the backseat of the black SUV, his elbow resting on the window, his fingers loosely curled near his lips. The streets outside were slowly growing darker, the golden hue of the evening sun bleeding into dusk. He sighed softly as the car cruised down the wide road, escorted at a distance by two other vehicles from his security team. In the front seat, Day was behind the wheel, focused and silent as always. Next to him sat Tarek, the second guard, who kept a close watch on their surroundings. Zayn tilted his head slightly and looked out at the passing buildings, but his mind wasn’t there. It had wandered far—back home. To Lucien. Why the hell am I thinking about him again? His brows drew together in a hard frown. It was happening more and more lately. Lucien’s face would just flash in his mind. That calm, annoying look in his eyes. The way he had sat there in silence that night. Zayn shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the memory. He didn’t want to think about

A pale orange light filtered through the thin curtains, casting faint lines across the small, cluttered room. The air was cool and silent except for the soft hum of a ceiling fan. Lucien’s eyes fluttered open slowly. For a moment, everything felt still—his mind blank, his body frozen. Then it all came rushing back. He gasped and sat up straight. His hand flew to his chest as his breathing picked up. His head ached. His body felt strange. But more than that, his memory was in flashes—strong arms, a heavy weight, the scent of alcohol and cologne, lips against his. “ Sir Zayn...” he whispered. Lucien looked down at the rumpled bed. The sheets were twisted, and warm. Zayn was no longer there. He touched his face, then ran a shaky hand through his messy hair. He slid off the bed and walked barefoot toward the small mirror on the wall. It was old, a little dusty at the edges, but it reflected enough. He tilted his head, brushing his fingers over his neck. There—just below his jaw—

After they were done eating, Zayn dropped his spoon and leaned back into his chair, letting out a quiet breath. He wasn’t in a hurry to leave the table just yet. He sat there silently, waiting for the food to digest a little. Amy stood up from her chair and looked at her mother. Vera gave her a gentle nod. Encouraged, Amy walked up to her father. “Daddy, can you take me to the Disneyland next weekend Please?” Her voice was soft and hopeful, the kind only a ten-year-old could manage. "I always wanted to go with you and now school is almost coming to a close, I wanna go with you" As soon as Amy asked, Daisy frowned deeply, hiding it behind her cup. Vera, on the other hand, smiled and watched closely, waiting for Zayn’s response. Zayn didn’t reply right away. His face didn’t show much, as usual. After a moment, he said, “Amy, you know I don’t have time at all. Your mommy will take you. You can get whatever you want.” Amy’s lips dropped into a pout. “Really?” she asked, clearly

Lucien woke up the next morning with a slight headache. His body felt weak, like all the strength had drained from him overnight. He groaned softly and rolled onto his back, his hand brushing over his forehead. Something cool and damp was resting there. He blinked, confused, and slowly removed the cloth. It was a folded handkerchief, damp with water. “Where did this come from?” he muttered, staring at it. He was sure—absolutely sure—that he had gone to bed without anything on his forehead. He didn’t even own a handkerchief like this. It looked too clean, too expensive to be his. “If I didn’t put this here… then who did?” he whispered to himself. The idea of someone coming into his room while he slept made his stomach twist. His mind quickly jumped to Zayn. But that thought felt ridiculous. “Sir Zayn? No way,” Lucien mumbled. “He wouldn’t… would he?” Before he could think too far, another wave of headache hit him like a hammer, and he let out a soft groan, curling slightl

Zayn closed the door of his study room with a soft thud. His hand remained in his pocket as he walked toward his large, polished oak table. The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a desk lamp on the far end. Thick books lined the shelves, and the smell of leather and paper filled the air. The walls were a deep gray, and the heavy curtains were drawn, shutting out the daylight completely. Just as he reached his chair, he paused. His dark eyes narrowed slightly. What’s wrong with me? Why am I feeling this way? He let out a tired sigh and slowly removed his hand from his pocket. Zayn had never been one to hesitate. He didn’t think deeply about emotions or second-guess his decisions. If he wanted something, he took it. If someone got in his way, they paid. It was simple. But ever since that night—with Lucien—something inside him had shifted. He sat down on the black leather chair behind the table and leaned back. The chair gave a soft creak as he stared at the ceiling, f