All Chapters of THE BOY WHO COULD BEAR AN HEIR : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Lucien opened his eyes slowly. His head throbbed with a deep ache, like someone had slammed a rock against it. He groaned and tried to raise his hand to press his temple, but his arm wouldn’t move. Confused, he blinked, forcing his vision to adjust to the dim, yellow light hanging from a single bulb in the middle of the ceiling. He looked down. His wrist was tied tightly to the cold armrest of an iron chair with thick ropes. He pulled, but the rope only dug deeper into his skin, burning. His other hand, it was the same, bound so tightly he could see faint red lines where the rope pressed against his skin. Lucien’s breathing quickened. He gasped in fear and tried to move his legs. But his ankles were also strapped to the legs of the chair, locked in place. He jerked harder, but nothing gave way. His chest tightened, panic rising inside him. “What is this? What’s happening?” he whispered shakily. The room around him was filthy. The walls were bare cement, cracked and damp in pla

Arnold moved closer, crouching down until his face was level with Lucien’s. A trembling breath escaped Lucien’s lips. He wanted to turn away, but he couldn’t. His body refused to move. Arnold lifted a hand and let his fingers trail along Lucien’s cheek. The touch was deceptively gentle at first, but it made Lucien shudder violently. Slowly, Arnold’s hand slid down to his neck, lingering there just long enough to make Lucien’s pulse race with panic. Then his fingers dragged further down to his chest, where they pinched his nipples with cruel pressure. Lucien gasped in fear and pain, tears spilling down his face. Arnold leaned in, his mouth hovering close to Lucien’s ear. “You look so damn cute when you cry… it just turns me on.” He licked Lucien’s ear, relishing the way the boy sobbed faintly beneath him. With a sharp tug, Arnold loosened the ropes binding Lucien’s knees and ankles. Before Lucien could react, Arnold seized him by the arm and yanked him forward. Lucien stum

Zayn walked to the waiting area where Ma Claudia and Day were sitting. The atmosphere was heavy, every breath thick with fear. Immediately Ma Claudia saw Zayn, she stood up quickly and bowed, her eyes filled with worry and Day followed at once, bowing deeply too. Zayn’s eyes swept over them, his voice calm but sharp. “What happened to her?” Ma Claudia lowered her head. “According to the doctor, she was poisoned.” Zayn’s brows furrowed. “Poisoned?” “Yes, Sir,” Day answered, his tone trembling. “We don’t know how she got poisoned.” Zayn remained silent for a while, the air tightening around him. At that moment, the doctor stepped out of the ward where Amy was lying and he froze as his eyes landed on Zayn. Recognition struck him, and immediately he bowed his head low. “Sir Zayn,” the doctor greeted nervously. “You are the one in charge of my daughter?” Zayn asked, his voice low but firm. The doctor raised his head cautiously. “Yes, Sir. She needs a blood transfusion u

Zayn went through the paperwork on his desk, but it was obvious his mind was not on the files in front of him. His pen tapped against the corner of the paper as his lips curved into a small smile. He leaned back in his chair, turning slightly, as he becomes lost in thoughts that, were nowhere near the documents piled before him. His mind kept returning to the night before and this morning. Lucien. Zayn chuckled softly, clicking his pen in a steady rhythm. For the longest time, he had believed Lucien was nothing more than innocent, a fragile thing that looked like he could break at the slightest touch. But last night had proven him wrong, so very wrong. The sounds Lucien had made, the way his body had responded—Zayn could still hear those moans in his head. They had been unexpected, raw, almost intoxicating. He smiled to himself again, caught in the memory, so deep in thought that he didn’t even hear the door to his study open. It wasn’t until the heavy thud of a hand slamming

After seeing that Lucien had slept off, Zayn rubbed his temple as he stood up from the chair. His head felt heavy as the way he had lost his temper kept replaying. He sighed, dragging himself toward the bathroom. The warm water ran down his body, washing away some of the tension. He let it linger on his skin for a while, his palms pressed against the tiled wall, his eyes shut tight as if he could rinse the guilt away with the water. When he was done, he wrapped himself in a towel, then put on his night robe. The bedroom was dim and quiet, only the soft rhythm of Lucien’s breathing filling the silence. Zayn climbed onto the bed carefully, not wanting to wake him. He lay on his side, turning to face the boy sleeping beside him. Lucien’s face looked so calm, innocent even. Zayn’s hand moved on its own, tracing Lucien’s jaw, then his cheek as his chest tightened. “Why did I get angry at you?” he thought to himself, sighing again. “You weren’t even at fault…” The guilt weighed on