All Chapters of His Son, Her Secret: Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

The restaurant stood grandly by the beach, with huge windows facing the ocean. Honestly, this wasn’t what I pictured when Max shouted “pizza!” in front of the house.I glanced at Jullian as we stepped in and were greeted by a hostess with a professional smile. “This place... is not your average pizza joint,” Jullian smiled. “It’s pizza... with a five-star rating.”“And a price tag that could pay two months of electricity,” I muttered.“Minor detail,” he said casually.Max didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by the fancy interior or the gleaming ceramic plates. “Jullian,” he said seriously, “if pizza is round, why is the box square?” “Because triangles are too suspicious for a global conspiracy.” Jullian answered without hesitation.“And... why does the cheese melt but not run away?” Max continued, eyes wide.“Because cheese knows it’s being watched.”Clara was filming them on her phone, laughing softly behind the screen.Max pointed at Jullian’s face. “He’s totally a secret agent

I froze.The sea breeze that had felt cool just moments ago now stung my skin like tiny needles. An inheritance?An heir?That... didn’t make any sense. My father was not someone who gave me anything. Not love, not protection, not even a place to return to after everything that happened at St. Sophia. He was the man who sat in the old armchair in our living room with those dark eyes that demanded A+ on every test, the man who raised a wooden ruler with a cold hand because of a single B.The man who, along with his wife—my biological mother—kicked me out of the house with one sentence: You’re a disgrace.And now... five years later, wrapped in a thin blanket under the night sky, hearing that the daughter they once labeled emotionally broken and too stubborn to love, the one they said could never compare to Ben—own everything they once used to crush me.My hands clenched the edge of the blanket. “Isn’t Ben the one managing everything?”Javier nodded . “Yeah. He handles the operations.

The cold air brushed against my skin as Pascha pulled the fabric of my T-shirt, which was roughly uncovered until it pooled under my chin. My breath caught. I didn't have time to be embarrassed, let alone protest, because his eyes were already smouldering like a hungry animal spotting prey.“Shit.” His voice was hoarse, guttural like he was choking himself with desire.And then...Heat.His tongue swipes over my nipples in slow motion, too conscious, too deliberate, like he wants to memorize every earthquake he triggers in my body. I squirm, my back arching without realizing it, hands gripping his short hair. Whether to pull him away or to bring him closer, I don't even know."Pascha...” his name came out as a moan, broken by the vibrations he left behind every time his lips sucked, every time his teeth pressed with sweet menace.He growled, the vibrations flowing straight from his mouth to my chest, to my spine, to the rest of my body. His one hand gripped my hip, holding me immobile

Glass shelves, matte-black drawers, and a line of clothing racks stretched from one end of the room to the other. Filled with suits, shirts, and, oddly, rows of women’s clothes.I pulled open the third drawer, just like he said.And there it was.A pale gray knit sweater, wide-necked and slightly stretched around the collar from too much wear. I took a quiet breath as my fingers brushed the fabric. I knew this sweater.It used to be my emergency jacket when New York suddenly turned cold in Pascha’s penthouse. Back when we were still living together after graduation, before everything turned to rubble. It was the sweater I wore while eating instant ramen at 2 a.m., waiting on the couch for him to get home late from Romanov HQ, watching criminal series he never quite understood.I shut the drawer slowly, my breath trembling in silence. Then I glanced at the clothing rack beside it.Dresses. Blouses. Sweaters. Trousers. Silk pajamas. All… in sizes that, in a way far too strange, fit me e

That morning, the sun hung low over the San Francisco skyline, casting a soft glow that danced across the glass walls of the headquarters. I stood in front of the final presentation slide for the Lantum Mining project, the hum of the air purifier quietly filling the room, and my heart beat in an unfamiliar rhythm: slow… but heavy.Around me, the tech team was assembling the final report and prepping the soft launch of our AI-based ground stability monitoring system, soon to be deployed at the last satellite mining site. On the screen, every indicator was green. All the data integration, tech synchronization, and final testing. Flawless.“This,” I said, clicking the last slide on the remote, “is our final milestone. We’re officially done.”There was a soft round of applause. Not wild. But enough. Because this wasn’t just about finishing a project, it was validation. Of our work, our choices, our resilience.And for a moment, I just stood there. Staring at the screen.Then the breath ca