THE BILLIONAIRE’S HIDDEN HEIR

The tension

Calla Monroe’s POV

The night felt colder than it should have.

Even with the apartment windows locked tight, an invisible chill seeped into the air, crawling over my skin. I told myself it was nothing—paranoia, exhaustion, too many restless nights—but deep down, I knew better.

Someone was watching me.

I’d felt it all week. In the supermarket, at Lucas’s school gates, even on the walk home from work. A shadow that lingered too long, footsteps that matched mine just a little too perfectly. I’d grown good at ignoring the ghosts of my past, but this wasn’t in my head.

This was real.

I tucked the blankets tighter around Lucas, brushing a hand over his soft curls as he slept. His tiny chest rose and fell, steady and innocent, unaware of the storm that was circling us.

I couldn’t let him know.

I couldn’t let anyone take him from me.

The knock at the door nearly sent my heart leaping into my throat.

I froze, staring at the door from across the small living room. It was late—too late for neighbors or deliveries. My fingers curled into fists, breath shallow.

Another knock. Firmer this time.

“Calla.”

My blood ran cold. That voice. Deep, smooth, commanding—like smoke curling around my name.

Damian.

I backed away from the door, pulse hammering. No. He couldn’t be here. He wasn’t supposed to know. I had built this life far away from him, buried myself in silence, in anonymity. How had he found me?

“Open the door, Calla.” His tone was calm, but there was steel beneath it, the kind of steel that promised he wasn’t asking.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. If I opened that door, everything would shatter.

But if I didn’t…

“Go away,” I whispered, though my voice trembled. “You don’t belong here.”

Silence. Then a chuckle. Low, dark, and terrifyingly patient.

“You’ve hidden from me long enough,” he said. “But you forgot something, Calla. You’re not the only one in this world anymore.”

My stomach twisted violently. My eyes darted back to Lucas, still asleep, oblivious to the danger just feet away. My instinct screamed at me to run, to grab him and vanish into the night like I had years ago.

But the weight of Damian’s words pinned me where I stood.

He knew.

He knew about Lucas.

The knock came one last time, softer now, almost mocking. “You can open the door, or I’ll find another way in. Either way… you’re mine.”

My legs shook beneath me, but I forced myself to move, inching toward the door—not to open it, but to slide the chain lock into place. My trembling fingers barely managed it, but when the metal clicked, I allowed myself one shaky breath.

For now, it would hold.

But for how long?