His Billionaire Heir

The small feet made a quick, light sound in the narrow apartment hallway, like the raindrops falling. "Mommy, look at what I made." Isabella stood at the kitchen counter, wipping the flour from her hands after kneading dough for tomorrow's bread. The smell of warm bread aroma filled the air, nice and welcoming, surrounding the small house with a feeling of safety that she could not hold onto. Her son came in awkwardly, his curly hair bouncing and his rosy face glowing. His turbulent grey eyes, bright and intense. The eyes of Noah ,sparkled with excitement as he waved something brightly colored in his front. "Did you make this yourself again, dear?" Isabella asked calmly as she wiped her hands with her apron. Noah beamed with his mouth open, displaying the little space between his teeth. "Mummy look it's me and Daddy." The paper trembled in his hand as he placed it in hers. Her chest constricted. There was a tall man in a black suit alongside a small boy. Both shared one grey pair of eyes and one set of straight lips. The child never met his father, but Noah always appeared to comprehend him well. Isabella's throat was dry. She stooped over, her smile fragile but with all love as she pushed a piece of dark hair back from her ear. "It's beautiful, baby. “ You're such an artist my little one." Noah gave a broad smile and wrapped his arms around her neck, pressing his face to hers. His little frame was warm, and he trusted her completely. She gripped him for so long, grasping him as if he was a shield. There was guilt in her inside. Five years. It had been five years since she escaped from Ethan Blackwood, and all she had taken with her was the secret developing inside her. She had never told him. She had never provided him with the opportunity to know his son. She had reasons. He had been cold, a man more concerned with power than with humanity. He'd hurt her once, taken her innocence, and left her with scars that she promised never to pass on to Noah. She promised that her son would never bear the name Blackwood or feel the weight of that dynasty. And yet, whenever Noah produces his daddy's image Isabella's lies hung on the edge of crumbling. "Could we maybe go to the park tomorrow?" Noah asked speculatively, his small voice filled with excitement. "Good," she whispered and planted kisses on his forehead. "We will go after Mommy finishes her work." Noah smiled again as he went back into the living room, whistling a tune that kids could make up. Isabella rose gently to her feet, her legs shaking. She glanced at the clock. It's almost closing time at the bakery. She grasped her keys, reached for Noah's hand, and they stepped out into the frigid New York night. The bakery was on the corner of a small, narrow street, and its small windows shone with warm golden light. It wasn't big, but it was hers a safe place where she could relax, begin again, and hope that the past didn't happen. People came for her cinnamon rolls, her pies, and her coffee. None of them knew the secret she carried every day. The door over the bakery swung with a bell when they entered. Noah hurried off to fetch his crayons, leaving Isabella to finish the cleaning of the counter. She hummed to herself without thinking, her hands moving automatically to wipe flour off the glass display. The bell rang again. She looked up and her whole world broke. He was standing. Ethan Blackwood. Time drew out so slowly, and all she could hear was her own heartbeat. He loomed in the doorway like one of these ghosts that she couldn't shake. He was tall and broad-shouldered, all decked out in one of these impeccable suits that seemed to belong on him. He had a firm chin, incredibly dark hair, and turbulent grey eyes that looked identical to Noah's as they surveyed the room with such intensity they made her legs tremble. Her breath was stuck in her throat. No. That's not possible. Not here. Not now, after all these years. And it was. Ethan Blackwood, the man that she had resented, loathed, the man she had run from was in her store, and everything would never be quite right again. He looked at her. They recognized one another instantly. Then came another emotion: anger, surprise, hunger all blended together upon one impassive face. Her hands clutched the counter edge firmly. She wanted to flee, to disappear, to take Noah in her arms and never bring him near this man again. Instead of opening her mouth. She murmured "Ethan." He walked closer, one careful step at a time, like a hunter. He shouldn't be in her small shop with its ripped curtains and the smell of warm bread. He belonged in tall buildings, in meeting rooms, and in the bright photos of magazines that made him seem both great and terrible. And yet…..there he was. "Isabella," he finally said, his deep, smooth voice flowing through the air and wrapping around her back. "It's been a long time." Five years. She had reckoned every day of it. "I—what are you here for?" she asked forcefully, going out of her way to get her voice steady. His eyes had closed slightly. "I could ask the same from you." Just before she was going to do it, someone spoke. "Mommy, see what I drew!" Noah came running in from behind with yet another piece of paper. He stuttered to a stop when he saw the stranger tower over his mother. His small head tilted to one side, curious. And in that moment,Isabella understood. Ethan looked at the boy. Time stalled. The storm in his eyes grew stronger, became tense, and swelled. His chest rose suddenly, as if he had been hit. Because looking back at him was a small version of himself. Grey eyes. Angled jaw. That same tilt to the mouth. Noah stared at him, dumbfounded and unfocused. His little fist was grasped tightly in the crayon paper. The quietness in the bakery was oppressive. Isabella's heart thudded in her head. She had to speak, had to deceive, had to tell him—but her mouth would not move. Ethan looked away from the child and to her. "Isabella." His voice was firm but had a dark undertone to it. "Who is this child?" Her mouth was parched. "Ethan, do—" But before she could utter one word, Noah came close to her, his small face shining with excitement. He waved his sketch about in the air, his voice gentle but firm. "Dad The world they stood in fell apart. Isabella's blood turned to ice. Ethan's dark gray eyes widened. His face hardened so far that the muscle jumped. She saw something in Ethan Blackwood that she never thought she would see. Shock. Untainted, pure shock. Isabella realized that her carefully constructed world, her comfortable little life, and her secret would all crumble.