Billionaire's Secret Heir

Chapter 3

Ma ( Susans Mum)

"Don't cry, sweetheart… I'm right here." She gently wrapped her arms around me, stroking my hair with her thin, worn hands.

"Please don’t scare me like that again, Mom," I whispered, clinging to her.

"I promise, darling. Now dry those tears." Mom lifted her trembling hands and wiped the wetness from my cheeks, her eyes full of warmth and love. She always said my eyes were her favorite thing in the world. I had Heterochromia Iridum, a rare eye condition that made my irises two different colors—one a rich emerald green, the other the hue of the ocean.

"Your eyes are the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, Susan. You’re rare, just like them. Wherever you go, people can’t help but notice you. At your age, you should be living your life fully, but instead, you’re stuck here taking care of me. I’m sorry you gave up college for me.”

"You’re not a burden, Mom. You’re the biggest blessing in my life. Loving you is never a chore—it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done." I pulled her close, my arms tightening around her. That was my way of showing her she mattered more than anything.

"It’s getting late, Mom. You need to rest. Come on, I’ll help you to bed." I gently lifted the photo album from her lap and helped her rise from the sofa. She was so light, I could carry her with ease.

“There’s something important I need to tell you, Susan,” she said urgently as I laid her down.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and shook my head. The doctor said she shouldn’t stay up too late—it could worsen her condition.

“Tell me later, okay? You need your sleep.” I kissed her cheek softly. “Goodnight, Mom.”

She nodded, her eyes fluttering shut within seconds, and soon her soft snores filled the room.

“I love you,” I whispered as a tear traced my cheek. I wiped it away quickly and made my way to my bedroom.

The moment I stepped inside, I was met with silence. The air was cold, the open windows letting in the night breeze. The loneliness hit hard, just like it always did in that room. My eyes landed on the framed photo resting atop the old mahogany table. A sharp ache stabbed my chest.

It was a photo of Max, my little boy, taken on his first birthday. He had the sweetest smile, full of mischief and innocence. I stood behind him, arms wrapped lovingly around his tiny frame, my smile mirroring his. Behind me was Tristan Glass, his arms securely wrapped around my waist.

I remembered that day so clearly. It was the last memory I had of Max.

Weeks later, a car crash took him from me—just like that.

It’s been two years, but the pain hadn’t dulled. I still blamed myself. If only I could turn back time. I would’ve taken his place in a heartbeat. He should’ve lived. He deserved the world.

I blinked away the tears and tore my gaze from the photo, walking over to shut the window. Then I slipped off my heels and changed into my pajamas. After climbing into bed, I tossed and turned, unable to quiet the storm inside my mind.

The scene at the restaurant replayed over and over.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around it—Tristan asking for a divorce. And on our anniversary, no less.

A long sigh escaped me as I stared at the ceiling. My heart still ached. For years, I had loved Tristan with everything I had, even if it was never returned. I kept hoping he’d learn to love me back. But that night, he shattered whatever fragile illusion I’d built.

He told me he wanted a divorce because he loved someone else.

Jennifer.

No matter how much I gave him, no matter how long I waited, I would never be her. He never stopped loving her, not even when she left him behind to chase her career.

She came back now that he had wealth and power—but would she stay? Or would she drain him dry and walk away again?

Only time would tell.

With too many questions and no answers, I finally fell asleep.

The blaring of my alarm yanked me out of unconsciousness. Groaning, I reached over to silence it and buried my face under the pillow.

I had barely begun drifting back off when I heard a knock at the door.

Dragging myself out of bed, I padded across the soft carpet. Mom must need something, I figured. She was the only one who ever knocked this early.

But when I opened the door, I was surprised.

Rose stood there, dressed in her crisp white scrubs, a radiant smile on her face, holding my favorite black forest cake. Beside her was Mom in her wheelchair, eyes lit up with joy.

"Happy twenty-fourth birthday, Susan!" they both cheered in unison, just as I opened my mouth to speak.