Page 72 of Secret Heir

Should be.

Daniel runs behind me for protection and Aria stops, slightly breathless. She’s smiling and in this moment she looks like the girl I fell in love with eight years ago.

“Traitor,” she hisses to me but her bright eyes belie the words.

“I’m Switzerland,” I tell her, holding up my hands as Daniel peeks around me. “Completely neutral.”

“Switzerland gets invaded sometimes.” But she’s already turning back to the stove, pulling out a pan.

I help where I can—setting the table, pouring juice, watching as Aria teaches Daniel how to crack eggs without getting shell in the bowl. She puts on soft music from the kitchen speaker, something classical and gentle that fills the kitchen with warmth.

The domesticity of it all hits me hard.

This is what I’ve been missing. Not just the sex or having Aria in my bed. This. Morning pancakes and easy laughter and Daniel’s chatter filling the space while Aria hums along to the music.

A family.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Nikolai. I slip into the hallway to take it.

“We need to meet,” my brother says without preamble. “About the investigation. This afternoon.”

My heart seizes. “What’s happened?”

“Alexander found something. More irregularities.” He sounds tired. “Two o’clock. The beach house.”

He hangs up before I can respond.

When I return to the kitchen, Daniel is attempting to flip a pancake. It goes flying and hits the ceiling, before it splats onto the floor. Both he and Aria dissolve into giggles.

“I told you to use less force!” Aria is laughing so hard tears spring into her eyes.

“I thought it would work!” Daniel is staring at the pancake on the floor with a mixture of horror and delight. “Like in the videos!”

“Those are professionals, baby. You need practice.” She’s already grabbing paper towels to clean up the mess.

I lean against the doorframe, watching them, and my chest goes tight.

This. This is what I’ve been searching for all along.

Not just answers about why Aria ran. Not just my son. Not just solving the mystery of the embezzlement.

This family. This feeling of being home.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect it.

The beach house is one of Nikolai’s properties. It’s a sprawling modern structure right on the water made of all glass. It’s cooler here than at the estate, ocean breezes taking the edge off the July heat.

Nikolai is on the deck when I arrive, and I’m surprised to see him dressed down. He’s wearing linen pants and a lightweight button-down with the sleeves rolled up. No tie or jacket. It’s the most casual I’ve seen my brother in years.

The heat must be getting to him too.

Alexander is already there, sitting at the outdoor table with files spread out in front of him. He’s in similar attire, his burn-scarred hand visible without the usual gloves.

“Maksim.” Nikolai greets me with a brief embrace. “Thanks for coming. I know you wanted to stay with your family.”

“What’s so urgent?” I ask as I pull away from my brother.

We settle at the table, and Alexander starts walking us through his latest findings. More shell companies. More offshore accounts. More money flowing through increasingly complex channels.