All Chapters of HER BILLIONAIRE’S SECRET SON.: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Megan’s POVThe nursery felt like a bunker. I sat in the rocking chair, clutching a sleeping Liam so tightly that he stirred in his sleep, mumbling something about dinosaurs before settling again. I hadn’t turned on the lights. The only glow came from the security monitors Larry had insisted on installing in every suite, a feature I had hated yesterday but was now staring at with frantic intensity.On the screen, I could see the grainy black-and-white feed of the North Woods. Shadows moved, security teams with dogs, the blue-and-red flicker of distant police lights at the edge of the property.I felt like a fool. I had let a few hours of "normal" conversation and a shared glass of wine convince me that the danger was just a misunderstanding. I had let myself think Larry was just a lonely man who needed a family. But the man I’d seen in the hallway, the one with the ice-cold voice and the predatory eyes, that was the real Larry Trent. And he was the reason people were ramming gates and

CHAPTER 14I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, a rare moment of doubt creeping into the cracks of my resolve. Am I making the right choice? By locking them away, I was effectively destroying any chance of Megan ever trusting me. I was proving every one of her fears right. I had become the jailer she had spent three years running from. I could have explained the sniper. I could have shown her the laser sight on the crib. But I knew her, she would have panicked. She would have tried to snatch Liam and run into the night, straight into the arms of the people waiting in the woods.Better to be hated and alive than understood and dead.Megan’s POVThe silence that followed the sound of Larry’s departing SUV was the loudest thing I had ever heard. It wasn’t the heavy, watchful silence of the mansion’s halls; it was the silence of a trap door swinging shut.I stood in the center of the nursery, my hand still stinging from the impact with Larry’s cheek. I could still see the phantom ima

Megan's povClick. He was down.I didn't give myself time to think. I stepped into the shaft, my boots finding the narrow metal ledge. I gripped the greasy, cold cables. My palms burned instantly, the friction biting into my skin, but I gritted my teeth. I lowered myself into the dark, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might crack a bone.I slid down, inch by inch, the darkness swallowing me. I could hear the wind whistling through the vents. Every floorboard creak above sounded like a footstep.When I reached the first floor, I kicked open the service door from the inside. I tumbled onto the linoleum of the pantry, gasping for air, my hands raw and stinging.Liam was there, tucked into the corner of the lift, his eyes wide as saucers. He didn't say a word. He just reached out and grabbed my hand."Good mouse," I whispered, pulling him out.The pantry was dark. I cracked the door to the kitchen. The moonlight was streaming through the high windows, illuminating t

MEGAN'S POVI looked at my hands. They were steady, but the nails were bitten down. I looked at the "sensible" shoes the maids had mocked.Resilience, I thought. It isn't just about standing your ground. It’s about making the ground yours.If I stayed obedient, if I played the part of the quiet, grateful woman Larry had "saved," I would eventually be erased. I would become the woman they whispered about, the one who lived in the shadows of the mansion until she was no longer useful.I stood up and walked to the full-length mirror. I looked at the woman in the reflection. She looked tired. She looked like she was waiting for permission to exist."No more," I whispered to the glass.I walked over to the wardrobe. Larry had filled it with clothes I hadn't touched, silk blouses, tailored trousers, dresses that felt like moonlight. I had avoided them because wearing them felt like a surrender. It felt like I was letting him dress me like a doll.But I realized now that clothes were a unifo

Megan’s POVThe atmosphere in the house shifted overnight. The whispers didn’t stop entirely, people like Sarah don't change their nature because of one speech, but they retreated into the shadows where they belonged. Now, when I walked into a room, the staff didn't pause to judge; they moved to clear my path.It was a hollow victory, but it gave me the room I needed to breathe.Larry was still in "negotiation mode." He spent most of his time in the study, but he had started leaving the door open. It was a silent invitation, a gesture to show me that the "lockdown" era was officially over. He was treating me like a partner, though I knew it was mostly a tactical shift. He realized that a caged bird doesn't sing, and he needed me to perform for the outside world.I was sitting in the small morning room, going through the Foundation’s ledgers that Larry had actually delivered to my suite. I was looking for the gaps, the places where the "charity" was just a branding exercise."You’re ac