The Secret Heir’s Return のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 80

The weeks that followed were a blur of grief and healing.Victoria stayed in Portland, renting a small cottage near the beach. She came to dinner every Sunday, bringing wine and stories and the kind of tentative hope that came from trying to rebuild a bridge that had been burned decades ago.Damien was civil. Sebastian was distant. Lucas and Lily, with the unquestioning acceptance of children, adored her."She's trying," Isabella said one night, as she and Damien lay in bed."I know." His voice was flat. "That doesn't make it easier.""It's not supposed to be easy. It's supposed to be worth it."He turned to look at her. "When did you get so wise?""About three seconds after I met you." She smiled. "You're very educational."The secret came out on a Tuesday.Isabella was in the attic, searching for old photo albums, when she found the box. It was tucked behind a stack of winter coats, covered in dust, its corners worn.She opened it carefully, revealing a collection of letters yellowe

Sebastian found her on the porch that evening.Isabella was sitting on the swing, watching the sun set over the ocean, her mind still reeling from Eleanor's confession. The woman who had raised her, the mother she had mourned, the mother she had found was not sick, had never been sick, and had been hiding, pretending, waiting.She didn't know how to feel about that."Isabella." Sebastian's voice was soft. "Can I sit with you?"She nodded, shifting to make room.They sat in silence for a long moment, watching the sky fade from gold to purple to black."I've been thinking," Sebastian said finally. "About my family. About the choices I made. About the person I used to be.""What about him?""I don't want to be him anymore." He looked at her. "I don't want to be angry. I don't want to be bitter. I don't want to blame everyone else for the things I did wrong.""Then don't.""It's not that simple.""It never is." She took his hand. "But you can try. One day at a time. One choice at a time."

The lighthouse keeper's cottage was small and warm, a fire crackling in the hearth.Isabella sat across from Sarah, studying her face, the same blue eyes, the same dark hair, the same stubborn set of her jaw. She could see Thomas Webb in both of them, the father they had never known."Tell me everything," Isabella said.Sarah talked for hours.She told Isabella about her mother, a woman named Rebecca who had died when Sarah was young. About Thomas, the father who had visited when he could, who had loved her despite the danger. About the night he died, murdered by Alexander Thorn's men, leaving behind a daughter who barely knew him."I was twelve when he was killed," Sarah said. "My mother's sister took me in. Raised me. Kept me hidden from the people who wanted to hurt me.""Did you know about Eleanor? About me?""Not until years later. When I found the letters." Sarah pulled a bundle from her bag of yellowed pages tied with a faded ribbon. "Thomas wrote to Eleanor every week. Telling

The bills started arriving in October.Isabella stood at the kitchen counter, a stack of envelopes in her hands, her heart sinking with each one she opened. Medical bills from Eleanor's hospital stay. Past due notices from the utility company—a letter from the bank, warning that her savings account was nearly empty.She had been trying to ignore it. Had been telling herself that things would get better, that she would find a way, that she didn't need to worry.But she was worried. She was terrified."Mommy?" Lucas appeared at her side, tugging at her shirt. "Are you okay?""I'm fine, baby." She tucked the bills into a drawer, forcing a smile. "Just tired.""Can we have pancakes?""Pancakes." She scooped him up, kissing his cheek. "Pancakes it is."Damien noticed something was wrong.He found her in the kitchen late that night, sitting at the table, the bills spread out before her. She looked up as he entered, her eyes red."Isabella. What's going on?""Nothing." She started gathering

The lighthouse stood at the edge of the cliff, its beacon cutting through the fog like a warning.Isabella stood at the base of the tower, the wind whipping her hair, her heart pounding. Damien was hidden behind a cluster of rocks, his security team surrounding the area. She could feel his presence, steady and reassuring, even from a distance.A figure emerged from the shadows.Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and blue eyes. He was handsome in the way that wolves were handsome, dangerous, unpredictable, beautiful."Isabella." He approached slowly, his hands raised. "Thank you for coming.""Who are you?""My name is Jonathan Webb." He paused. "I'm Marcus's son."Isabella's blood ran cold. "Marcus has a son?""He had two. My brother died in prison. Killed by someone your husband put away." Jonathan's voice cracked. "I'm all that's left.""Why did you send me that letter?""Because I want to help you. Because I know about Marcus's friends. Because I want to stop them before they hu