All Chapters of His Son, Her Secret: Chapter 161 - Chapter 170

My phone buzzed, screen lighting up with a name that had become familiar, and still somehow made my heartbeat skip half a note: Pascha Romanov.I tapped the screen to accept the video call while Clara and Jullian were still deep in debate over whether dinosaur-shaped pancakes were superior to star-shaped waffles.The call connected, and Max’s face instantly filled the screen, his grin wide, hair a little messy, and behind him, Trisha, still wearing her straw hat, waved while chewing on something.“Mommyyyy!” he shouted. “Why is everyone here speaking Russian?! I don’t understand anything! I feel like… like an alien on Mars!”I let out a soft laugh, about to reply when—“MAX!” Jullian called out.Max’s eyes lit up. “You’re there too?!”Jullian leaned closer, sharing the screen with me. “Hey, partner,” he greeted warmly. “Looks like you’ve been busy socializing with the high society crowd.”Max nodded enthusiastically. “I almost got to drive the golf cart by myself! But Grandpa said I d

BelvaMorning slipped in through the gap in the curtains like an old friend who knew how to arrive without making a sound. Warm light crept across the edge of my bed, slowly trailing up the wall and brushing my fingertips.I opened my eyes without the weight in my chest. The bad memories were still there, sure, but like shadows, they came and went, swallowed by something warmer. Something calmer.Maybe I was just too tired. Maybe my body had finally surrendered to a peace I had been refusing.I got up, letting my feet touch the cool wooden floor. The sheets were still messy, a pillow had fallen to the ground. This morning felt... light. I grabbed a towel and walked to the bathroom. Hot water washed over my body, and for a few minutes, I just stood under the shower, letting it rinse away the traces of last night.Afterward, I slipped into a loose white t-shirt and comfortable linen pants, my hair still damp as I stepped out of the room. My pace was slow and lazy, but the moment I reac

"Pass the pilaf, please!" Trisha was already shouting before she even sat down, grabbing the plate and then plopping into her seat.Igor sat at the head of the table with two small creatures flanking him. Max on the right, Mischa on the left. Both with eyes shining and hands ready to pounce. I sat in the middle, with Pascha—mysteriously—choosing to sit right beside me, even though plenty of other chairs were still empty.He sat too close. His left arm draped behind my chair, and his knee… well, his knee kept brushing against mine far more often than lunch table etiquette would allow. Every time I shifted, he shifted with me.And of course, his fingers occasionally played with the ends of my hair that fell over my shoulder.I refused to react. That would mean he won. So I focused all my attention on the plate of pilaf and the roast chicken coated in fragrant Middle Eastern spices made by Natalia herself."Uncle!" Max spoke through a mouthful. "Did you ever throw Daddy into the sea?"Ig

Max’s floatie was a little too tight, which I’d done on purpose because I knew my son. Give him space and he’d swim as far as possible until someone thought a new dolphin species had been discovered. But now that we were getting ready to snorkel, the floatie had to come off. “I still think this is a bad idea,” I muttered while fiddling with the clips on the side of Max’s floatie. “But it’s fun!” Max shouted as he squirmed, just trying to break free so he could dive in like some kind of sea ninja. “Hold still, Maximus Prime. You don’t want to snorkel with a floatie this tight. Trust me, it’ll make you look like a failed floating donut.” Mischa stood next to us, already geared up with her snorkel mask and little fins on her feet. She looked calm and efficient, like a tiny professional swimmer. Even her curly hair had been neatly tied back with a blue ribbon by Igor. “I took off my floatie a while ago,” she said flatly. “My mom’s not that protective.” I glanced at her and raised an

Two days after Pascha went back to Russia too, my house was quiet again.Or... almost quiet.I was sitting at the kitchen table, still in pajamas, my hair pulled back in a lazy ponytail, a half-finished cup of coffee in my hand. Morning sunlight streamed through the big windows, warming the wooden table with a slow, sleepy glow. Max sat with one leg crossed over the other, one hand holding a spoonful of cereal, the other clutching my phone.Pascha’s face filled the screen.“I told you not too much milk in the cereal,” he commented through the video call, his voice faint through the speaker.Max raised an eyebrow. “But I like it when the cereal sinks. The milk’s like a battlefield.”I sipped my coffee, trying not to laugh.“Where’s Mischa?” Max asked, popping a spoonful into his mouth while staring at the screen.“She’s at her house. My house and her house are in different cities, Maximus Prime,” Pascha answered.“Hmm,” Max mumbled, chewing while glancing sideways. “So... that means yo