Billionaire's Secret Heir

CHAPTER FOUR: Unveiled Truths

Isabella stood behind the counter of the small French bakery in the Bronx, the scent of fresh croissants and vanilla-laced madeleines drifting through the air. Flour dusted her apron, and tendrils of her dark hair had slipped from her ponytail, curling at her temples. It was just past dawn, and the streets outside were slowly waking up. The bell above the door jingled every few minutes, and regulars called her "Isabelle" with warm familiarity.

But today, something felt...off.

She wiped her hands on a towel and glanced toward the front window. A black SUV had been idling across the street for nearly twenty minutes. The same one from yesterday. Her heart beat faster, her breath catching. She instinctively glanced toward the back of the bakery, where her daughter, Sofia, slept peacefully in the small nursery she had set up. No one knew about the child. No one could.

Except...someone did.

She reached beneath the counter and pressed a small, hidden button connected to a silent alarm. Not for the police, but for a friend. A protector. A man who owed her a favor after she'd once helped his sister escape an abusive marriage. Within moments, he would be watching.

Isabella didn’t take risks. Not anymore. Not after everything she had endured in Rome.

She turned to greet the next customer, forcing a polite smile onto her lips. But the man who walked in wasn’t a regular.

It was him.

Xavier De Luca.

The air whooshed from her lungs. Her heart felt like it might collapse under the weight of shock and memory. He looked even more dangerous in daylight, his suit sculpted to his form, a lock of raven-black hair falling over his forehead. The same eyes that had once stared into hers as if she were the only woman in the world now burned with something far more menacing: betrayal.

She gripped the counter, steadying herself.

He didn’t speak. Not right away. He merely studied her. Every line of her face, every flinch, every suppressed emotion. Finally, his lips parted.

"You ran."

Her throat tightened. "You left."

He stepped closer. "I searched for you. For months. And then I see a photo of you—here—with a child."

She blinked. The bakery fell silent. The customer behind him quietly backed out the door. No one wanted to get in the way of a confrontation that vibrated with danger.

"Lower your voice," she whispered. "This is not the place."

Xavier leaned closer. "You’re right. Let’s take this somewhere else. Now."

She straightened. "No. If you want to talk, we talk here. But if you try to take my daughter—"

"Our daughter," he snapped.

The words struck her like a slap. She hadn’t been ready to hear him say it.

He paused, studying her expression, softening slightly. "Isabella...why didn’t you tell me?"

She fought tears. "Because you’re a De Luca. And I’ve seen what the De Luca legacy does to people. What it did to your mother. To your sister. To anyone who tried to escape. I couldn’t let my daughter grow up in that shadow."

Xavier exhaled, running a hand over his jaw. "You think I would’ve harmed her? That I would’ve let the darkness reach her?"

"You think you can stop it? You can’t. That name is a curse, Xavier. And you know it."

He looked down for a moment. Then, with surprising gentleness, he said, "Let me see her."

Isabella hesitated.

And in that pause, the front door shattered.

Three masked men stormed into the bakery, guns raised. Customers screamed and hit the floor. One of the men grabbed Isabella and shoved her toward the counter.

"Where’s the child?" he snarled.

Xavier moved like lightning, slamming the first attacker into a wall. The second fired a shot—grazing Xavier’s shoulder. Blood bloomed across his suit, but he didn’t falter.

Isabella screamed, trying to break free as the third man dragged her toward the nursery door.

But before he could reach it, a shot rang out from behind.

The man dropped.

Isabella turned to see her protector—tall, grizzled, and wielding a silenced pistol. He nodded once.

"Take her. Get out. I’ll handle cleanup," he said.

Xavier, bleeding but alert, seized Isabella’s hand. "Come on."

She didn’t resist.

They bolted through the back door, through the alley, and into the waiting black SUV Xavier had used. As the door slammed shut and the vehicle roared to life, Isabella clutched Sofia to her chest, heart racing.

Xavier, holding pressure to his wound, locked eyes with her.

"Now do you believe me when I say you’re not safe without me?"

She didn’t answer.

But her silence was no longer resistance—it was fear.

Fear that the past she tried to escape had just found them.

And this time, it wouldn’t stop with threats.

---

As the SUV speeds away, a call comes in on Xavier’s phone from an unknown encrypted number. He answers—and a cold voice says, "You took what belonged to us. The child isn’t safe until the debt is paid."

Isabella gasps.

Xavier’s face darkens. "Who are you?"

The voice replies:

"Ask your brother. He started this. Now you’ll both pay."

The line goes dead.