Legacy 41_The Billionaire’s Secret Heirs

Chapter 41

 -HUNTER’S POV-

 There are a few things I can handle first thing in the morning

 ‘An espresso shot strong enough to punch me in the throat.”

 “My inbox screaming bloody murder.

 “The sound of silence.”

 What I can’t handle? My mother sitting on a goddamn couch in my living room, legs crossed, judgment uncrossed, and a boy with my eyes smiling at her like this isn’t the beginning of the end.

 And Celine… Celine looks like she just got caught stealing something sacred. And maybe she did. Maybe she was.

 I don’t say anything at first. I just… watch.

 Because of the silence? It’s mine. It’s how I control everything. My boardroom. My reputation. My entire goddamn life.

 But today, it turns on me.

 “What did I say about keeping him away?” My voice drops, low and lethal. The kind of tone I use when I want something dead. Usually feelings.

 Celine flinches as I struck her. “I–I’m sorry,” she murmured, gently tugging Caesar by the arm. “Come on, sweetie-“She scrambles for Caesar’s hand like he’s her lifeline, and maybe, just maybe, he is.

 Caroline’s eyes cut to me like daggers dipped in disgust. I don’t flinch. I’m good at wearing masks. Even better at hiding the ones that slip

 Caesar wasn’t budging. “I wanna show Cole!” he whined, holding his drawing higher. “He said he w

 That name made Hunter’s stomach knot.

 Cole. Of course, he did. Then came the blow that shifted the air like a crack of thunder.

 “Mama,” Caesar said, looking directly at Celine. “Tell Hunter I just wanna wait for Cole.”

 That word. That one fucking word that tears my world down the center like a careless rip through silk.

 My mother straightens slowly, the way a predator might when it smells something worth chasing.

 “Mama?” she repeats, her voice cold honey.

 to see it.

 She turns to Celine. Scans her. Inspects her. Slices her up with that aristocratic stare of hers, as if she’s appraising a painting and

 not a person.

 Then she looks at me.

 And I can already see it. The question’s she won’t ask because she’s too polite, and the usations she doesn’t need to say out loud because they’re already screaming in her eyes.

 Caroline steps in close. Whispering hot enough for me to feel it. “You let Cole near her?” Her voice cracks with betrayal. “Have you lost your mind?”

 “Don’t say it.” My reply is a warning. A hiss behind a wall of restraint.

 But Caroline has never listened. She never did when we were kids. She won’t start now.

 Hunter Reid is unraveling, and everyone in this room can feel it–except the boy smiling like he belongs here..

 I move toward them. My steps are measured, but my pulse isn’t

 Celine is trying to pull him away. Caesar won’t go. He looks up at me with those too–blue eyes. Mine. They look too much like mine.

 And I hate it.

 “Go with your mother, Caesar.” Ites out colder than I meant it to. Maybe not.

 Caesar’s lip wobbles. My chest does something weird–tightens and twists. But Celine gets the message. She scoops him up and disappears like she always does, quietly, quickly, without a single word about how much I just hurt her.

 Then the silence wraps itself around me again.

 My mother rises,

 “You have a lot of exining to do,” she says, brushing past me like this is just another scandal for her to clean up.

 I don’t turn. Just say the words.

 “He’s not mine.” The liees out dry. Brittle. “I don’t know… but he’s not.” She stops. Smirks.

 “Oh, honey.” Sheughs, but it’s sharp and joyless. “You don’t even believe that.” She circles back and gets in my space like only Eleanor Reid can.

 “You remember how you looked when you were four?” she asks. 

 “Because I do. And he’s you. Every damn part. The chin, the brows, the stormy scowl. I birthed that face. You think I wouldn’t recognize it?”

 I look away.

 Because I do remember. And she’s not wrong. But admitting it would be worse than hearing it.

 “You need to ask yourself,” she continues, her voice turning steel, “where the hell you slipped up. Because someone did. And that little boy is the consequence.”

 Consequences. She always talks like I’m still a teenager ruining trust funds and reputations.

 She’s not entirely wrong.

 Caroline leans in. Her voice is softer now like she knows I’m at the edge of something jagged.

 “What if she’s right?” I don’t answer.

 I can’t. Because the part of me that used to know how to love anything–or anyone–was buried a long time ago, six feet under

 Tl1 Th1 1 

 reputation and resentment.

 And then I hear her.

 From the top of the staircase. Celine

 She’s standing there, holding Caesar’s hand, both of them bathed in soft morning light that shouldn’t make me feel like this.

 She’s not saying anything, Just looking. At me. Like she sees the parts I’ve never shown anyone.

 Caesar steps forward.

 He lifts the crumpled drawing. His voice is small “Do you want to see it too?” I swallow,

 I don’t move. Because I don’t know what terrifies me more–What he drew….Or that I want to say yes.

 Dinner with my mother always felt like walking barefoot across broken sses….beautifully lit, richly ted, and casually cruel.

 My mother Eleanor, sat at the head of the table like a queen in exile.

 Caroline my cousin, sat at her left, sipping from her wine ss like she had not just flown in from Mn to remind everyone she was too good for this ce.

 Across from me, a hundred–thousand–dor centerpiece blocked half of my view, which was probably for the best. I had no desire to look at the woman pretending to be family tonight.

 Not when my mind was still locked on the thought of her.

 Celine had been gone by the time we sat down. She knew better than to hover, let alone take a seat.

 She belonged to the background in my mother’s world–maid, outsider, receable.

 But that didn’t stop Eleanor from dragging her into the spotlight like a magician pulling a rabbit fro

 “Such a shame the staff these days can’t keep their personal lives out of their professional spaces,” she said, casually slicing into

 her filet.

 “There was a time when servants had the decency to be invisible.”

 Caroline raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

 She brings that little boy here, doesn’t she?” Eleanor went on, eyes twinkling with fake curiosity. “What’s his name again?

 Caesar?

 I didn’t respond.

 Eleanor smiled thinly, “Unusual name. Sounds more like ambition than affection.”

 My jaw tightened. “He’s a kid. You want to gossip, pick on someone your size.”

 “Oh, darling,” she said sweetly. “I’m not gossiping. I’m observing. There’s a difference. And forgive me, but a maid with a child… working here of all ces? It begs the question.”

 “What question?”

 Eleanor’s eyes sparkled like frostbite. “What exactly is she hoping to gain by keeping her child so visible? Money? Pity? Ast

 name?”

 Caroline, who’d been idly twirling her wine, finally spoke.

 “Celine is hardworking,” she said, trying not to sound loud. “But it feels like she is struggling too, being a single mother and very young at that ”

 My mother scoffed, clearly not happy by what Caroline said, she picks her ss of wine taking a sip.

 “She’s not stupid,” she said, almost bored. “Whatever she’s doing, it’s calcted.”

 That made me sit up.

 “Exin.”

 Caroline gave a half shrug. “I think what Aunty is trying to say, is No woman walks into this house with a sob story and a pretty face without knowing how far both can get her, I don’t think she’s malicious. Just… strategic.”

 Strategic

 The word dug into my spine like a splinter. “Stop supporting her egos and words, she is your friend remember”

 “That’s…not what I meant Hunter…

 I stood without a word and left the table, ignoring Eleanor’s amused smirk and Caroline’s guilt as I walked out.

 I found Celine in the back hallway, where the help usually disappeared to clean up the messes the rest of us made.

 She was wiping Caesar’s hands with a cloth, humming softly under her breath–something gentle and low. The kind of sound that didn’t belong in this house.

 I waited until she looked up.

 The hum died in her throat.

 “You need something, Mr. Reid?” she asked, her tone clipped, professional. But her body tensed like she already knew this wasn’t

 about work.

 “Yeah,” I said. “The truth.”

 Her brows drew together. “About what?”

 I took a step closer. “Did you n this? Getting hired here. Bringing your son, Making sure I noticed you.”

 She froze.

 She froze. “You think I nned to be a majd in your mansion?” she asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

 “I think people lie. Especially when they need something.”

 Her jaw locked. “You think I dragged my son into this circus for your attention?” <fn6a78> This update is avable on find?novel</fn6a78>

 “You’re not stupid,” I said tly. “And Caesar’s a suitable essory.” The p of her palm against my cheek was silent–but it

 12:02 THU. 11-1

 echoed through me like thunder.

 Caesar stirred, his little head lifting slightly from her shoulder, but she gently soothed him back down without looking away from <ol><li>me. </li></ol>

 “You think because you have money, everyone around you just wants a piece of it?” she asked, her voice shaking with fury. “I didn’t ask for your attention, Hunter, I didn’t want it. I still don’t.”

 “You’re lying.”

 Her nostrils red. “I didn’t choose this job because I was chasing a fantasy. I chose it because I had no options left. You think I enjoy scrubbing your crystal stemware and dodging you and everyone’s twisted opinion of me?”

 I didn’t speak

 I couldn’t. She took a breath like she was about to break–but didn’t.

 “You want to investigate me? Do it. Call in yourwyers, your private investigators, hell, hire a psychic for all I care. But don’t you

 kid?” dare stand here and use me of using my

 I swallowed hard, heat crawling up my neck. “I’m not using, I’m just… trying to make sense of this.”

 Her eyes narrowed. “Then try harder.

 She walked past me, Caesar still half–asleep in her arms, head resting on her corbone like a crown she wore with quiet defiance.

 I didn’t follow her. But I watched her go. And all the noise in my head–the warnings, the suspicions, the hunger–screamed louder than ever.

 If she wasn’t alter anything. Why did it feel like I was the one who’d been caught?

 I returned to the table with the taste of her anger still burning on my skin. For the first time in year.

 And that terrified me more than anything else.

 In’t trust my instincts.

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Legacy 41