His Contract Wife, His Secret Heirs

Chapter 4

Evelyn's Pov

The airport was louder than I remembered. It's been quite some time since I last travelled after all. I stood near the exit with one hand wrapped around the handle of my suitcase while the other rested lightly on top of it. The cool air from the vents brushed against my face, lifting strands of my hair as I scanned the crowd beyond the glass doors.

Seven years.

Seven years since I had walked through these very doors with nothing but a broken heart and a secret growing inside me. Now I was back to the very country I had run away from seven years ago.

“Who is that?”

“She looks like a celebrity.”

“She looks like a goddess.”

“I can literally feel her aura from here. She looks familiar though, where have I seen her from?”

I adjusted the sunglasses on top of my head and smiled softly. I was used to the compliments by now. Over the years, interviews, magazine covers, and business conferences had made my face familiar to many. Still, hearing strangers admire me in my own city felt strangely surreal.

I smiled again politely, dipping my chin in acknowledgment. The attention did not make me uncomfortable anymore. I had earned it.

I had left as a divorced woman. I returned as Evelyn Laurent, founder and CEO of a multinational tech firm that had climbed into the top ranks within six short years. Yet beneath the tailored coat and composed expression, my heart was beating so fast that I could barely breathe. I thought that having stayed away for seven years, nothing here could move me again, but I was nervous.

Because this place held memories. Because somewhere in this city lived the man who had unknowingly changed the entire course of my life. I found myself glancing around, looking for his face, but I couldn't find it. I almost scoffed.

“Why would he be here?” I questioned softly.

But then, a sudden high-pitched squeal sliced through my thoughts.

“Mama!”

Before I could fully turn toward the sound, two small bodies crashed into my legs with such force that I nearly lost my balance. My suitcase wobbled as I instinctively bent down, laughing.

“Well, hello to you two,” I said as two identical pairs of bright eyes stared up at me.

They were bundled in matching outfits, their dark hair slightly tousled from what must have been an impatient wait. One of them clung to my thigh while the other wrapped both arms around my waist. I crouched and gathered them both into my arms despite their protests that they were “big kids now.”

I pressed kisses to their cheeks as they giggled uncontrollably. “I missed you,” I whispered.

“We missed you more,” one twin declared, puffing out his cheeks in exaggerated seriousness.

“No, I missed her more,” the other argued, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck.

Lily and Liam, my twins, my children.

I laughed softly and stood up, adjusting my grip so I carried one on each hip. They were growing heavier by the month, but I refused to complain. These were the arms that had once trembled holding two newborns alone in a foreign hospital room.

Behind them stood a man with an easy smile and patient eyes. He watched our reunion quietly before stepping forward. Jeremy, a friend who had stayed by my side throughout the whole six years I worked. He was one person who made sure I never lacked a thing.

“You’re going to spoil them,” he said gently.

I rolled my eyes at him. “I absolutely am.”

Jeremy leaned in and took my luggage from me, careful not to jostle the twins. “How was the flight?”

“It was okay,” I replied with a small sigh as I finally set the twins down. “Long, but peaceful. Surprisingly, I don't feel tired at all. No jet lag.”

He chuckled. “Well, you've always been strong.”

My gaze drifted beyond him toward the bustling crowd outside the airport doors. “This place has really changed.”

He followed my line of sight and laughed lightly. “Evelyn, you’ve been gone for almost seven years. Of course things have changed. The skyline alone is different.”

Seven years.

Seven years ago, I had left this city with tears in my eyes and divorce papers finalized in my inbox. I had no idea that what would come next would make me almost give up.

Two weeks after I arrived abroad, the dizziness started. I blamed it on stress at first. Then on jet lag. Then on exhaustion from working double shifts while trying to secure funding for the tiny startup I had begun sketching out in my notebook during my marriage.

When the nausea did not fade and I started adding on weight, I was asked to buy a test. I still remember staring at the two lines, my hands shaking so violently that I dropped the stick into the sink.

I was pregnant.

I laughed at first, then I cried until my chest hurt. They were Rhysander’s children. The night before the divorce had finalized replayed in my mind over and over again. The heat of his skin, the way he had whispered my name like it meant something real. I had told myself it was the drugs talking.

Life, however, had other plans.

The pregnancy had not been easy. At my first appointment, the doctor’s expression had shifted from professional calm to grave concern after reviewing my scans. Complications. A fragile uterine condition that I had never known about. He explained carefully that if I chose to terminate, the chances of conceiving again would be dangerously slim.

It had not even felt like a choice.

I had always wanted children. Even during the loneliest years of my marriage, when Rhysander’s heart belonged to another woman, I had imagined tiny hands clutching mine. Imagined laughter filling empty hallways. I had signed the papers consenting to carry the pregnancy without hesitation.

If fate had given me something of my own, I would protect it.

The months that followed were brutal. I built my company during the day and fought through nausea and fatigue at night. There were days when I sat in board meetings while silently counting contractions, terrified that stress would steal the fragile lives inside me.

When I found out they were twins, I cried again, this time from fear and joy tangled together. The delivery had been complicated, just as the doctor predicted. I had lost more blood than expected, and there had been a terrifying moment when the room blurred and I thought I might not wake up. But when I heard two sharp cries instead of one, strength flooded back into my body.

I never contacted Rhysander.

Pride had played a role, but so had practicality. By then, rumors of his reconciliation with Amanda were everywhere. I would not force my children into a battlefield of unresolved emotions. I would not allow them to grow up feeling unwanted. So I worked, I built my life and I climbed to the top.

“Mama,” one of the twins tugged at my coat now, pulling me back to the present. “How long are we staying here?”

I smiled down at them, brushing a hand over both their heads. “We’ll stay as long as you want to.”

Their faces lit up like fireworks.

“Forever?” the other one asked hopefully.

I exchanged a brief glance with the man beside me before answering gently, “We’ll see.”

We began walking toward the exit together, the twins racing ahead before being reminded to stay close. The automatic doors slid open as we moved toward the waiting car. I turned slightly to respond to one of the twins, and my shoulder collided with something solid. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and my foot slipped against the smooth floor. I would have fallen if a firm hand had not shot out and caught my waist. The world seemed to still. The grip of the stranger was steady, warm, unmistakably strong, but then the scent reached me.

Bergamot and Lavender.

My body froze before my mind could catch up. Slowly, almost against my will, I lifted my gaze. Dark eyes met mine and for a moment, neither of us spoke. His expression shifted from polite reflex to stunned disbelief in a matter of seconds. His hand, still at my waist, tightened as if to confirm I was not an illusion.

“Evelyn,” he breathed. “It's you.”

“R… Rhysander.”