Page 129 of Secret Heir

Because what good is revenge if Daniel dies? What good is justice if I lose my child?

I'm dozing in the chair on the third day of Daniel’s coma. It’s the first sleep I’ve had in seventy-two hours, and even that is just exhausted micro-sleeps where my head drops forward for a few seconds before jerking back up.

I’m dreaming about Daniel as a toddler, running through the park, laughing. I’m chasing him, and I can almost hear his giggles, can almost feel the warmth of the sun⁠—

Then I feel a change in the room. Something shifts in the air.

My eyes fly open, and I see Daniel’s eyelids fluttering.

“Maksim.” My voice is sharp, urgent, cutting through the quiet. “Maksim, he’s waking up.”

Maksim is on his feet instantly, moving to Daniel’s side despite the obvious pain in his ribs. We both lean in, hardly daring to breathe, watching as our son’s eyes slowly open.

He blinks slowly, like his eyelids are too heavy. His eyes are unfocused at first, clouded with confusion. They dart around the room to look at the white walls, the medical equipment beeping and humming, the IV in his arm, and the monitors showing his heartbeat.

I can see him trying to piece together where he is and why.

Then he focuses on me.

His eyes lock onto my face and recognition flickers there, followed immediately by fear.

“Mama?” His voice is barely a whisper, rough and raw from the breathing tube they removed this morning. It sounds painful just to speak.

He’s awake. He’s alive.

“I’m here, baby,” I sob, tears running down my face faster than I can wipe them away. “Mama’s right here. You’re okay. You’re safe. You’re in the hospital, but you’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

His eyes are still clouded with confusion and fear. He tries to sit up, but his body doesn’t respond the way he wants it to. His arms are weak, trembling with the effort. Panic flashes across his small face and the heart monitor’s beeping gets louder.

“It’s okay,” I tell him quickly, my hand on his chest, gentle but firm. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Your body is just weak from being asleep for a few days. The doctors say everything is fine. You just need time to get your strength back. I promise.”

He’s breathing faster now, close to hyperventilating. His eyes are darting around again, looking for danger.

Then his gaze shifts to Maksim on the other side of the bed.

And everything goes still.

For a long moment, Daniel just stares at his father. He takes in Maksim’s haggard appearance—the hollow cheeks, the bloodshot eyes, the days of stubble, the way he’s bracing himself against the bed like he might collapse without the support.

I can see Daniel trying to understand if this is real. If any of this is real.

His eyes fill with tears.

“Papa?”

The single word is so small. So uncertain. A question wrapped in hope wrapped in fear. Is it really you? Are you real or am I dreaming?

The effect on Maksim is instantaneous and profound.

His face crumples. This enormous man—six-three of solid muscle and feared by hundreds of men—breaks down completely at that one small word.

Tears stream down his face. His mouth opens but no sound comes out. His whole body is shaking.

I know what this means to him. Daniel has refused to call him anything other than “Maks” and I know it’s been killing Maksim. But this…this is Daniel claiming him officially as his father.

“I’m here, solnyshko.” Maksim’s voice is thick with emotion, breaking on every syllable. “Papa’s here. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe now. I promise you’re safe.”

“I’m scared.” Daniel’s lower lip trembles, and fresh tears spill down his temples. “I don’t—I don’t remember what happened. My stomach hurt then everything got fuzzy and I couldn’t breathe and—” His breathing is getting faster, panic setting in.