All Chapters of FAMILY SECRET: CLAIMING MY FATHER'S TOY: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Julian's apartment felt different when I walked in alone. Quieter. Emptier. Like the space itself knew something had shifted and wasn't sure how to adjust.I dropped my bag by the door and walked straight to the bedroom, peeling off my clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water hit my skin and I just stood there, letting it run over me while my mind spun in circles.Paris. Vincent wanted to take me to Paris for a month. And I was actually considering it. Ughhh. What the hell was wrong with me?I pressed my forehead against the cool tile and tried to think logically. To weigh the options like Silas had taught me. Pros and cons. Risks and benefits. Strategic thinking instead of emotional reaction. But my brain refused to cooperate. All I could think about was Vincent's calm voice saying "I'm curious what would happen if you had an actual choice."Choice. When was the last time I'd actually had one of those? Not the night Silas gave me those contracts. Not when Julian caught me

The plane touched down at Charles de Gaulle just after 9 AM Paris time.I'd barely slept on the flight. Too much adrenaline. Too many thoughts spinning through my head about what I'd just done. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Julian's face. Heard Silas's voice saying "You don't come back."But I was here now. Actually here.Vincent had been nothing but polite on the flight. He'd given me the window seat, ordered champagne I barely touched, and spent most of the time reading while I stared out at the darkness below. When I finally did doze off somewhere over the Atlantic, I woke to find a blanket draped over me that I definitely hadn't put there myself.Now, walking through the arrivals terminal, everything felt surreal. The French voices over the intercom. The signs I could barely read. The cool morning air as we stepped outside where a car was already waiting."Welcome to Paris," Vincent said, holding the door open for me.I slid into the back seat. He followed, giving the driver a

Morning in Paris sounded different than morning anywhere else.I woke to church bells ringing somewhere in the distance, the soft murmur of French voices drifting up from the street below, and the smell of coffee so good it actually pulled me out of bed.I found Vincent in the kitchen, standing at the counter with an espresso cup in one hand and a newspaper in the other. He was wearing dark jeans and a simple white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Casual. Comfortable. Nothing like the suit he'd worn at the Rosewood.He looked up when I walked in. "Good morning. Coffee?""Please."He poured me a cup and slid it across the counter. "There's a bakery down the street. I picked up croissants earlier. They're still warm."I grabbed one from the bag on the counter and took a bite. Oh my God. Buttery, flaky, perfect. I actually made a sound.Vincent smiled. "Good?""This is insane. How is bread this good?""Because the French take it seriously." He folded his newspaper. "So. The Louvre to

Vincent took me to a bookstore.Not just any bookstore, Shakespeare and Company, he called it. A tiny place crammed with books stacked floor to ceiling, narrow staircases leading to hidden reading nooks, and the smell of old paper that hit me the second we walked in."This is incredible," I breathed, running my fingers along the spines."It's been here since the twenties. Hemingway used to come here. Fitzgerald. All the famous writers." Vincent gestured toward a corner where cushions were piled on the floor. "People can sleep here if they need to. The owner believes books should be accessible to everyone."I wandered through the aisles slowly, pulling random books off shelves, reading first lines, getting lost in the chaos of it all. Vincent followed at a distance, letting me explore.In a section marked "Poetry," I found a slim volume with a worn cover. I opened it randomly and read: "We are all broken. That's how the light gets in."Something about those words hit me harder than the

Vincent froze. His lips still hovering so close to mine I could feel the warmth of his breath."Wait?" he repeated quietly."Wait." I pulled back slightly, my hands still on his shoulders. "I can't. Not like this."His expression shifted. Not anger. Not disappointment. Just understanding. He stepped back, giving me space."Okay.""That's it? Just okay?""What else would I say?" Vincent walked over to the window, staring out at the city. "You said wait. I'm respecting that."I wrapped my arms around myself. "You're not mad?""No." He turned back to face me. "Elena, I'm not Silas. I don't punish you for having boundaries. I asked a question. You answered. That's how this works.""But you wanted me to kiss you back.""Of course I did. But not because you felt obligated or confused or caught up in a moment. I want you to kiss me because you actually want to. Not because I cornered you into it."Gosh. Why did he have to be so reasonable?"I'm sorry," I said."Stop apologizing. You have noth