Page 6 of Secret Heir

“Yes.” The word feels like swallowing glass. “Yes, he’s yours. Daniel is your son. Are you satisfied?”

Silence falls and it’s heavy and suffocating.

When I open my eyes, Maksim is staring at me with an expression I can’t read. Triumph? Pain? Fury? Maybe all three.

“Why?” His voice is barely a whisper. “Why did you keep him from me?”

“To protect him.” I meet his gaze, even though it terrifies me. “I left to protect him from your world.”

“My world.” He says it slowly, brow furrowing before his gaze sharpens. “You mean the Bratva.”

I don’t answer, but then again I don’t need to.

“You thought I’d hurt him.”

“I thought…” I swallow hard, my mouth dry. “I thought he deserved better than to grow up surrounded by violence and death and—” I pause before the words come out of my mouth.

“By men like me.” His jaw tightens. “You thought he deserved better than his own father.”

“Yes.” No point in softening it now.

Something flickers across his face—hurt, maybe, or rage. “So instead you gave him this.” He gestures around the shabby gallery. “Poverty. Hunger. Charity food.” He growls. “You call that better?”

The accusation stings because there’s truth in it and I wince.

I’ve done everything I could, worked myself to exhaustion, but it’s never been enough.

Daniel’s had to go without so many things. New clothes. Regular meals.

The stability every child deserves.

But he’s had me. He’s had love. And he’s been safe from bullets and blood and men who kill without hesitation.

“I did the best I could,” I say quietly. I refuse to be cowed by this man. I’ve done everything to keep Daniel safe.

“Well, your best wasn’t good enough.” He shoots back coldly. “You kept my son from me for seven years. You stole my heir. You let him suffer when he could have had everything.” He pauses, and I see the decision in his eyes before he says it. “Now you’re both coming home with me—willingly or by force. Choose.”

It feels like all the air has been sucked from the room and my world blackens slightly before I get a grip of myself. “No.” I shake my head even though I’m internally screaming. “I’m not going anywhere with you. And neither is Daniel.”

“That wasn’t a request.” He pulls out his phone again. “I have a car waiting three blocks away. You have thirty minutes to pack what you need for the boy. Then we’re leaving.”

I gape at him. “You can’t just—we can’t just⁠—”

“We can, and we are.” He looks up from his phone, and his eyes are hard. “I’ve waited eight years to find you. I’ve spent five months watching my son from a distance, learning about him, mourning everything I’ve missed.” His voice drops and the hair on the back of my neck rises. “I’m not waiting another day. Pack your things, wake Daniel, and come with me. Or I’ll have my men do it for you.”

“And if I refuse?” I ask boldly. I already know the answer, but I have to ask.

“Then I’ll have them pick you both up tonight.” He says it matter-of-factly, like he’s discussing the weather. “You’ll wake up in a different city, in my home. And you’ll never see this place again.” He pauses. “I’d prefer you come willingly. It’ll be easier on Daniel. But make no mistake, Aria—you’re both mine now. The only question is whether we do this the hard way or the easy way.”

My hands are shaking so badly I can barely stand.

Every instinct screams at me to fight, to run, to do something.

But what?

I have no money or friends/family.

I’ve burned every bridge to keep us hidden, and now that safety is gone.