The Secret Heir

Before my father died, he arranged a marriage for me.

The groom-to-be was Adrian Blackwood, the most untouchable tycoon in the city.

Before I married him, I set three rules for myself:

One: No emotions, only dividends.

Two: He could do his thing, and I would do mine.

Three: If his one true love ever showed up, I would step aside immediatelyfor double the alimony.

Adrian was perfectly satisfied with my pragmatism.

Until the day a seventeen-year-old boy with a striking resemblance to him knocked on our villa door and calmly announced, Maam, Im Adrian Blackwoods son. Hes been raising me in secret.

I froze for a solid two seconds.

My first thought was, Adrian is better at keeping secrets than I thought.

My second thought was to mentally review our prenuptial agreement.

What was rule number three again?

Oh, right. If his one true love ever shows up, I step aside for double the alimony.

I immediately stepped aside, my tone all business.

Come in. Hes not home from work yet. Have a seat. What would you like to drink?

The boy was clearly not expecting this reaction. He hesitated. Youre not angry?

Angry?

What was there to be angry about?

I had been practically praying for Adrian to have an affair. Then he could throw a few million in alimony my way, and I could finally start my life as a wealthy divorce.

I watched him change his shoes. At seventeen, he already had the frame of an adult. His features were Adrians, but his aura was much cleaner, less severe.

Whats your name?

Cole.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to him.

Cole, I said, my voice reassuring, your father and I have a contract marriage. Its a mutually beneficial arrangement. I have no right to be angry about his private life.

The boy clutched the water bottle, his Adams apple bobbing. He didnt say anything.

I sat down on the armchair across from him, the coffee table a safe distance between us.

The resemblance was uncanny.

It took me back three years, to my father on his deathbed, gripping Adrians hand and entrusting me to him. The Blackwood family owed my father a life, and Adrian repaid that debt with this marriage.

The night before we registered our marriage, he handed me a prenup.

I skimmed it, then held up three fingers. Id like to add three clauses.

One: No emotions, only dividends.

Two: You do your thing, Ill do mine.

Three: The day your true love comes knocking, Ill step aside immediately for double the alimony.

He signed it without a moments hesitation. Done.

We never spoke a single word of love. After the wedding, we lived in separate rooms, ate our meals separately. He was out of the country twenty days a month, and in the remaining ten, we saw each other less than he saw his secretary.

Three years ago, at the courthouse, he walked in ahead of me, signed the papers, and got the stamp. He never once looked back. It didnt feel like a wedding. It felt like the closing of a business deal.

Adrian came home while I was curled up on the sofa watching a reality show.

His footsteps paused beside the couch.

I turned the volume up a notch and kept watching.

He didn't go upstairs.

I glanced over. He was just standing there, his gaze heavy on me.

Who did you see today?

I paused the TV and sat up straight.

Mr. Blackwood, your sources are impressive. A rather handsome young man came by. Said he was your son. Youve done a remarkable job keeping him a secret.

The air went still. His face was a blank mask.

But he didnt deny it.

Ill handle this.

I nodded and stood up. As I passed him, I hesitated.

Right. If you need me to cooperate with the divorce proceedings, just let me know.

I couldnt help myself. I had to add, You do remember the clause about double the alimony, dont you?

He looked down at me, his eyes dark and intense.

I waited a few seconds, the atmosphere growing stranger by the moment, then turned and fled upstairs.

I leaned against the closed door, staring up at the ceiling light.

All this time, while he was supposedly busy with business trips, I thought our marriage was a blank slate. Turns out, he already had a true love and an heir stashed away somewhere.

I pulled out my phone and opened my banking app. The initial transfer hed made before our marriage was sitting right there in my account details.

Ten million.

Double that would be twenty million.

He waited until his son was seventeen to reveal him. That had to be some form of fraud, right? So, asking for an extra five million wouldn't be unreasonable, would it?

At one-thirty in the morning, I was still tossing and turning.

After much hesitation, I opened my contacts and found the name Mr. Anderson. He was the lawyer Id added three years ago when we signed the prenup. His profile picture was a golden retriever, and his posts were only visible for three days.

I opened our chat.

Type. Delete. Type. Delete.

Finally, I sent a single message:

[Mr. Anderson, I have a question. If youre busy, feel free to ignore this.]

He replied instantly: [Go ahead.]

Quite the dedicated professional.

I chose my words carefully.

[Let's say, hypothetically, I have a friend whose husband had a child before they got married and never told her.]

[Mm-hmm.]

[That would be considered concealment of a major fact, right? The verbal agreement for double alimony in case of an affaircould that apply here?]

[This friend of yours, what were the specific terms of her agreement?]

I stared at the screen. I couldn't say it was me. I couldnt be too specific. The name Mrs. Blackwood whispered in the citys legal circles would be enough to socially kill me ten times over.

I typed:

[My friend didnt have a written prenup. Her husband verbally promised to leave with nothing if he cheated.]

Even as I sent it, I knew it sounded fake.

The typing indicator appeared and stayed for a long time.

[Your friend is quite trusting.]

I was speechless.

[Mr. Anderson, the point isnt her trust issues.]

[The point is what she can get now.]

My fingers hovered over the screen.

Twenty million twenty-five would be even better. Adrians handsome face couldnt pay the bills, but money could.

[Alimony. Preferably double.]

[Is there any proof that the husband acknowledged the child?]

I thought of Coles face. I thought of Adrian saying, His name is Cole. Ill handle this. He hadnt denied it. Did that count as an admission?

I typed: [She said her husband didnt deny it. Does that count?]

[A verbal admission counts, but its better to have a recording, chat logs, or a witness.]

[A witness do I count?]

I dropped my phone onto the bed.

Five seconds later, the screen lit up again.

Mr. Anderson: [Mrs. Blackwood, I cant take on a case involving the Blackwood family, but I can recommend a colleague who specializes in family law.]

I had to laugh at my own stupidity.

While I was busy contacting lawyers and looking into divorce proceedings over the next couple of days, Cole showed up again.

I was decanting a bottle of red wine at the dining table when I heard a noise from the entryway.

Adrian walked in first, with the boy half a step behind him.

Adrian pulled out a chair. Cole is transferring to a school here. Hell be staying with us until the paperwork is finalized.

Well, well. Bringing the illegitimate son home for all to see. The true love cant be far behind, demanding her rightful place, can she?

Divorce. It was a must.

As I mentally calculated the child support, I called out to the kitchen, Anna, two extra dishes tonight, please.

A six-course meal with soup was served.

I placed a piece of sweet and sour pork into the twenty-five-million-dollarI mean, Colesbowl.

Have you found a school yet? I asked considerately.

He looked down. Yes.

What grade?

Eleventh.

Are you keeping up with your studies?

His chopsticks paused.

Its fine.

I added some vegetables to his bowl.

Its getting cold. There are extra blankets in the guest room closet.

He didnt respond or look up, his entire focus on the rice in his bowl.

Adrian was silent too. A pair of clams, father and son.

After dinner, as the dishes were being cleared, I went to the kitchen for some fruit. I sliced an orange with practiced precision, arranging the segments symmetrically on a plate.

Footsteps stopped behind me.

Aren't you going to ask about my situation? Dont you care that hes been fooling around outside? Coles voice was a little hoarse.

I arranged the eight orange slices on a white porcelain plate.

Thats between you two. Im only here to cooperate with your fathers arrangements.

You really dont care at all?

I turned off the tap and dried my hands on a towel, my smile flawless.

Kid, we have a contract marriage.

I hung the towel back on the rack, my smile enigmatic. Caring too much would be a breach of contract.

He didn't say anything else, his eyes fixed on my face as if searching for something.

But as I turned to leave with the fruit platter, I saw Adrian standing in the kitchen doorway.

After that day, Adrian started coming home less and less.

When the housekeeper asked how many place settings to prepare, I told her two.

With the master of the house absent, no one found it odd that the wife and the illegitimate son were coexisting peacefully.

On Friday afternoon, a file arrived from the lawyer Id contacted, Ms. Chen.

[Mrs. Blackwood, here is the initial draft of the evidence list for the divorce proceedings. Please review it.]

I opened it.

Clause seven: [The husband concealed the existence of a child born out of wedlock, constituting a major fault.]

Maam.

At the sound of Coles voice, I discreetly closed the file.

He was standing at the entrance to the patio, his eyes fixed on me.

What were you looking at?

I put my phone face down.

Work stuff.

He didnt move.

Youre lying. Adrian has been supporting you ever since you got married. Youve never had a job. Maam, are you are you divorcing him because of me? You cant divorce him.

Why not? I asked.

His back was to me, his voice low.

Because

This little brat! Leaving me hanging! He turned and walked away without finishing his sentence.

The next day, he was up early.

I sat on the sofa, flipping through my notes. He watched me.

I went to get a glass of water. He followed me to the kitchen doorway.

I came back. He sat back down.

Finally, I snapped my laptop shut.

Cole, is there something wrong with you?

He didnt deny it, just repeated yesterdays line: You cant divorce him.

I stared at him. Isnt that the whole point of you showing up? To let me know he cheated and to ruin our marriage?

He pursed his lips. Well, yes, but

Then why are you trying to stop me?

He looked down, silent again.

I got up and went into the study, shutting the door with a firm click, leaving him outside.

Five minutes later, a piece of paper was slipped under the door.

It was folded in half, torn from a notebook. The handwriting was heavy, piercing the paper in two places.

[I am not his son. You dont need to divorce him.]

[If you stay with the Blackwoods, at least youll have money. My mother was the same way. She refused to go back to them, and later, when she got sick, there was no money for treatment. I just don't like Adrian, but I don't want to hurt you.]

I stood there for a long time, clutching the piece of paper.

I opened the door.

He was still standing in the hallway.

Your mother

She thought she could raise me without a title, without money, without disturbing his marriage. Later, when she got sick and had no money for treatment, she said it wasn't anyone's fault.

When Adrian came home, I called out to him.

Adrian.

He stopped.

That boys mother.

There was no moon outside. He stood in the sliver of light from the doorway, his silhouette blurred.

What really happened?

Cole is my fathers son. My father only found out about him shortly before he died, so there was nothing left for him in the will. But his mother contacted mine before she passed. She said my father didn't know, and she didn't plan on telling him. She was just afraid she wouldn't make it and the boy would be left alone.

I was taken aback. Adrian's father had died in a car accident three years ago.

His voice was low and flat. His mother was my father's mistress. The Blackwood family wouldn't acknowledge her.

I leaned against the headboard.

So all these years

I tried to give them money, but his mother refused it. It wasnt until she got very sick that she finally accepted.

He paused.

Before she died, she had someone bring the boy to me, with a message.

What was the message?

He looked up, his gaze meeting mine across the half-open door.

Dont let the boy go back to the Blackwood family.

I didn't say anything.

Although Adrian rarely took me to the Blackwood estate, I knew it was a place that chewed people up and spat them out.

He stood in the shadows, his expression unreadable. My mother tried to help them once. But

When my grandmother found out, she used some flimsy excuse to make my mother kneel in front of everyone at a banquet. She knelt for a whole night. My father was at the card table that night. He never even glanced her way.

Adrians mother and my mother had been good friends. I vaguely remembered my parents discussing it at the dinner table when I was a child, sighing over her fate.

Suddenly, I understood why Adrian had done what he did. He didn't want Cole to suffer the same way he had.

He lowered his eyes. Cole doesn't know any of this. He only knows that Im his half-brother. He thinks Im hiding him away, afraid hell come back and fight for the inheritance.

My mouth fell open.

Blinded by the prospect of a massive alimony payment, I had overlooked a crucial detail.

Adrian was twenty-seven.

Cole was seventeen.

If Cole were Adrians son, Adrian would have had to have a child at the age of ten.

So Cole isnt your son.

He looked at me. It wasn't an accusation, just a calm, steady gaze. But there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You really thought he was my son?

I didnt deny it.

He was silent for a couple of seconds, then sighed.

Catherine, what goes on in that head of yours?

I closed my eyes, mourning my lost twenty-five million.

Really just incredible.

That night, after we had both retreated to our separate rooms, I opened my phone. The chat with Ms. Chen was still open to her last message:

[Mrs. Blackwood, the lawsuit materials can be submitted next week.]

I typed four words.

[Let's put it on hold.]

After sending the message, I buried my face in my pillow.

Twenty-five million, gone.

I could cry.