All Chapters of His Son, Her Secret: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

That night, the aroma of grilled meat filled Grandpa and Grandma’s kitchen. Miranda was busy stirring the black bean sauce while I helped slice avocados for the salad. Aunt Herna was grating cheese, occasionally humming an old song from the vintage radio in the corner. “I bet Pascha would love this dish,” Miranda teased with a mischievous tone. I shot her a sharp look, but she just laughed. “You know, if Pascha knew you were here cooking, he’d probably cross the ocean just to join us for dinner.” I let out a long sigh, putting the avocado pieces into the bowl. “He’s busy with his project. Besides... it’s a family holiday, Mira.” Miranda gave me a sly smile. “Are you sure that’s the reason? Or are you just trying to take a break from dating that genius Harvard captain of the hockey team?” I tossed a kitchen towel at her, but Miranda easily dodged it. “Belva, sweetheart, could you grab the salt from the top cabinet?” Aunt Herna asked while arranging the plates. I walked to the cab

The atmosphere at Logan Airport in Boston was filled with the typical holiday rush. The high glass ceiling reflected the afternoon sun, casting a golden glow on the polished marble floors. I dragged my heavy suitcase behind me, letting out a long sigh. Coming back early from my summer vacation had been a sudden decision, but the pressure and constant supervision at home in Bogota—especially from Dad—made me feel like I needed as much distance as possible.Even though returning early felt strange, warmth spread through me when I saw the tall, broad-shouldered figure standing near the arrival area. His dark hair was a bit messy, his black leather jacket clung to his athletic frame, paired with dark jeans and rugged boots, giving off an irresistible mix of charm and danger. His sunglasses sat casually on his nose, but the playful smirk on his lips told me exactly who it was.Pascha Romanov, the guy who could make my heart race and give me a headache at the same time.Before I could say a

"I missed you," he whispered, his deep, raspy voice vibrating the air between us. I bit my lower lip, trying hard not to smile. "Then stop making me mad." "I can’t promise that," he replied with a mischievous smirk before leaning down to gently kiss my forehead. I closed my eyes, letting out a long sigh. Pascha always had this infuriating yet comforting way of making me both angry and at peace at the same time—a combination that was both annoying and heartwarming. The night stretched on, and we kept talking, laughter and complaints blending into a long, seemingly endless conversation. Slowly, my eyelids grew heavy.I inched closer to Pascha, letting his arm wrap around me as his warmth surrounded me in a rare feeling of comfort. :::: For the first time in weeks, I felt genuinely at peace. The morning in Cambridge was chilly, even with the sun hanging low in the sky. Dew still clung to the apartment windows, leaving blurry wet streaks. I stood in my small kitchen, staring at a s

In front of the massive entrance, with towering marble pillars, stood two figures who immediately captured my attention. A tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair that was starting to gray at the temples, his face stern with sharp, chiseled lines.My chest and throat tightened instantly. Pascha’s parents. Alexandr Romanov and Natalia Romanova.Their names carried a weight of history, almost legendary in the realms of international business and politics. Just one glance at them, and I could feel the power and dominance radiating from their composed presence. A sudden wave of tension washed over me, and I found myself clutching the hem of my skirt.“Relax,” Pascha whispered beside me, his large hand reaching out to pat my thigh reassuringly. “They’re not as bad as you think.”I shot him a suspicious look. “Not as bad?” I echoed quietly. “Did you forget all those stories about their strict discipline and rigid rules?”Pascha shrugged nonchalantly. “They’re softer when it comes to guest

The Romanov family's private jet was way bigger than I had imagined. The interior felt like a floating penthouse, complete with white leather sofas, thick cream-colored carpets, and large windows offering an endless view of the blue sky. There was a spacious seating area with a polished wooden table and a minibar filled with crystal glasses and high-end liquor bottles.I sat on one of the sofas near the window while Trisha sat beside me, hugging a pillow with a grumpy face. From the other end of the room, I could hear Pascha and Igor’s muffled voices, seemingly arguing about something I couldn't quite grasp."I can't believe we're actually going to Siberia," Trisha grumbled, burying her face in the pillow. "I packed summer clothes, cute dresses, and now we're going to end up in the middle of a forest with wolves and—what was it again? Taiga man?"I chuckled, resisting the urge to tease her more. "You could still wear those dresses in the woods. Maybe the bears would appreciate your fa