All Chapters of The Lost Heir: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

At the hospital, the sliding doors hesitated, then opened in a slow stutter. The fluorescent lights inside buzzed in a way that made Maya tense. A nurse stood up immediately when she saw Ivy limp in Maya's arms. "What happened?" the woman asked, moving closer. "I—I don't know. She had some kind of episode. The whole building lost power. She wouldn't wake up." The nurse guided her to a bed, calling for a doctor before Ivy was fully laid down. Someone gently pried Ivy from Maya's hold, whispering apologies as they did. Machines flickered the moment they switched on. A monitor blinked, went dark, came back with a distorted heartbeat pattern Maya had never seen. "What's wrong with it?" one nurse asked. "It's not the machine," the doctor murmured. Maya felt the words more than she heard them. He pointed toward the screen. "Her vitals aren't following normal rhythms." Maya swallowed. Hard. "What does that mean?" "I don't know yet," he said honestly. "But something in her system i

Alec stayed in the chair beside Ivy's bed until he drifted into a shallow, fitful sleep. His hand remained loosely anchored around their daughter's, as if his body refused to let go even after his mind shut down. Maya sat across from them, elbows on her knees, waiting for her heartbeat to settle. It never really did.Every time she tried closing her eyes, the moment replayed in high definition: Ivy calling him Daddy, Alec jerking as if the sound had hit him in a place he'd never guarded; Ivy relaxing the second her fingers brushed his; the monitor smoothing out as if her body recognized a frequency she wasn't awake enough to understand.Maya shifted in the chair, the vinyl creaking beneath her. She glanced at the clock—3:47 AM. Time moved differently in hospitals, stretched thin and merciless.She covered her face with both hands. The past didn't stay buried. Not tonight. It pressed up in jagged pieces, familiar enough to hurt. The boy Alec used to be lived under her skin with an inco

The hallway felt like borrowed air—bright, humming, and full of people who didn't know the world had just cracked open. Maya leaned against the wall, letting the coolness seep through her shirt, and closed her eyes. She breathed. Once. Twice. Let the panic settle into something she could carry.When she finally pushed off the wall and stepped back into the room, everything was smaller and sharper: the pale silhouette of her daughter under the hospital blankets, the rhythmic, clinical beep of the monitor, and Alec sitting in that hard plastic chair as if he'd been there his entire life.He had pulled the chair close enough that his knees brushed the edge of the bed. One of his hands rested on the metal rail; the other was curled gently around Ivy's fingers. Someone had turned off the harsh overhead lights, leaving only the monitor's glow and a thin sliver of fluorescent light cutting under the door.Ivy shifted. Her breathing hitched, then her eyes snapped open. She bolted upright, unf

The tires screamed against the damp asphalt as Alec threw the SUV into a hard turn, leaving the hospital's glowing emergency sign to vanish into the fog behind them. Maya braced against the passenger door, her hand reaching back instinctively to check on Ivy. Her daughter was curled on the back seat, wrapped in a hospital blanket, her breathing finally steady.The interior of the car hummed with tension. Alec's hands were tight on the wheel, his eyes checking the mirrors every few seconds."Did we lose them?" Maya asked, her voice rough."For now." Alec eased off the accelerator slightly as they merged onto the highway. "They'll regroup. Try to pick up the trail again."Maya twisted in her seat, staring back through the rear window. The road behind them was empty, dark stretches of asphalt cutting through skeletal trees. But she knew better than to trust the quiet.She turned back, her mind racing. "Where are we going?"Alec's jaw tightened. "We need to talk about that.""My apartment

Celeste doesn't rush. She moves with the effortless grace of a woman who knows every eye in the clearing is on her—and that she deserves the attention. She is a bombshell, the kind of beauty that feels like an insult when you're covered in road dust and exhaustion. Her hair is a pale, shimmering blonde, pulled back into a knot so tight and perfect it looks sculpted. Even in her practical office attire, the fit of her clothes is intentional, highlighting a silhouette that makes Maya feel suddenly, painfully aware of her own stained jeans and tangled hair. "Alec," she says, and the relief in her voice is a melody. He turns toward her, and Maya sees his guard drop completely. It's a reflex. Celeste reaches him and doesn't just greet him; she steps into his space and hugs him. It's a lingering, practiced embrace—her hands sliding over his shoulders with a familiarity that screams ownership. She presses her cheek to his for a heartbeat too long, a silent message to anyone watching: This