The Billionaire’s Secret Heirs (Celine and Hunter) novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42

-CELINE’S POV-

I don’t remember the last time I breathed out without it sounding like a defense mechanism.

The night is too quiet–the kind of quiet that makes your thoughts louder than they should be.

I’m curled into one of the old chairs on the back terrace, nursing a cup of tea that’s gone cold, trying not to think about the things i shouldn’t be feeling

Or the man I shouldn’t be watching.

The glow from the windows behind us flickers against the stone like a soft warning: ‘You don’t belong here!

Caroline slumps next to me, barefoot, in an oversized sweater that probably costs more than my entire month’s salary. She curls the stem of her wineglass like she’s considering telling a secret,

I wish she wouldn’t.

“You don’t hate him as much as you pretend,” she says.

I blink at her, caught off guard by the sudden detour into dangerous territory.

“I don’t pretend anything.” I say, quietly. Too quietly.

She hums, not bothering to hide her amusement. “Then why do you steal glances at him when he’s not looking?”

My stomach twists. She says it so casually, but it lands like a slap. I look back out into the dark, not answering. Not denying it

either. That would give it power.

Caroline sips slowly. “He wasn’t always like this, you know. Cold. Distrusting. Detached.”

I risk a glance at her. “No?”

She shakes her head, a little wistful. “He used to laugh. Loud. The real kind. He used to throw himself into things. Now he just… guards everything like it might break if he lets it breathe.”

I don’t mean to ask it. But it slips out anyway. “What happened?”

Caroline pauses. And for once, she doesn’t smirk. She just… “softens”

“His father happened,” she says. “A broken engagement. And something else.”

I wait.

She looked at me like she was wondering how much I could handle. “A betrayal,” she finally says. The word lingers, heavy and sharp.

I shit. “A woman?”

Caroline nods. “A woman he trusted. Someone who made him believe in more than money. Someone who made promises and

then used him.”

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Chapter 42

That should not affect me. It’s not my story. But the ache in my chest says otherwise,

I clutch my cup tighter, trying not to imagine what it must feel like to believe in someone–and then watch them weaponize it

“I think he’s afraid,” Caroline says, her voice like wind against a paper door. “Of wanting something he can’t control.”

I let out a soft laugh, bitter and hollow. “That sounds like his problem. Not mine.”

“Of course,” she says. “But then why do you look at him like that?”

I don’t respond. Not because I don’t have an answer. But because the answer is the problem.

He terrifies me. Not in the way men usually do.

Not with threats or anger. But with the fact that beneath every warning in his eyes, every wall he puts up, there’s something “aching‘ to be known,

And I don’t know what scares me more–him pushing me away.

Or me wanting to stay.

Caroline leans back, folding her arms. “Be careful,” she says. “Men like him don’t love cleanly. They bleed on whoever tries to hold them

She gets up and disappears inside, leaving her empty glass behind like a reminder: this world swallows people like me.

I sit a while longer.

Eventually, the tea is too cold to drink and the night is too heavy to carry. I start walking back through the corridors, careful not to

wake Caesar in the room.

That’s when I saw him.

Hunter.

200000

He’s in his study, the door slightly ajar, a beam of warm light spilling into the hallway like a private thought left unstated. He doesn’t see me at first–his hands are braced on the desk, shoulders tight, head low.

He looks exhausted. And not just physically. He looks like a man who hasn’t forgiven himself for something.

Something deep. Something bleeding.

I should turn around. I should give him the space he’s never asked for, the distance he always demands.

But I don’t. Maybe because I want to see who he is when he isn’t being watched. Maybe because, at this moment, I’m lonelier than l

want to admit

And then…He lifts his head.

Our eyes meet.

The air shifts. It’s not anger in his face/Or suspicion. Or disdain. It’s something else. Something raw.

I don’t move. Neither does he.

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Chapter 421

The silence between us isn’t empty. It’s full. Of every word, we haven’t said. Every assumption we’ve made. Every line we’ve drawn in chalk, pretending we won’t ever cross them.

I should walk away.

But I don’t. Because sometimes… You don’t run from the fire. You walk toward it. And pray it doesn’t burn you alive.

The call comes just after midnight. I almost don’t answer. Caesar was finally asleep, his little breaths slow and even against the baby monitor’s soft hum.

The small apartment is dark except for the muted touch of the kitchen light I forgot to turn off.

My body aches from the day–laundry, dishes, polishing silver I can not afford to touch, and Hunter’s mother’s sharp tongue still echoing in my skull.

But the screen lights up with ‘Mom and something in me answers before I can stop myself

“Hello?” She skips hello. She always does.

*Your sister needs help.“Just like that. No warning. No question of how I’m doing. No asking if Caesar’s okay. No wondering if I’ve

caten.

Just Jesse.

The golden girl. The chosen one. I press my thumb into the edge of the counter, gripping the phone tighter.

har

“She’s going through a rough time,” Mom adds like that makes it better. Like that changes anything.

I close my eyes

“Let me guess,” I say. “She spent all her money partying again?” There’s a pause. The kind of pause that mesys I’m right.

“Celine…” she sighs. “Family helps the family.”

A slow ache spreads across my chest. Not the sharp kind. The deep kind. The one that lives in the lungs and sits heavy in the ribs.

I stare down at the floor, at the way the moonlight cuts through the slats of the blinds, painting stripes across the old wood.

“You wouldn’t be so selfish if your father were still alive.”

That one lands hard. Harder than it should be. Dad’s been gone four years now.

Caesar was barely one when he died. I went back for the funeral. Wore black. Held Caesar in my arms while my mother and every aunt and second cousin whispered like I wasn’t standing right there.

“She had a baby out of wedlock.”

“Such a shame. She used to be so bright”

They made me sit in the back pew. Said it was better that way.

Now she’s using his name like a weapon. Like his ghost would shame me into handing over money I barely have.

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“I can’t,” I whisper, throat tight.

“Can’t or won’t?” she snaps. “We all made sacrifices for you.”

I laugh. Not because it’s funny. Because if I don’t, I might scream. Might throw the phone across the room and finally let it break like everything else they tried to bury.

They didn’t sacrifice for me.

I

They erased me. They scrubbed me out of family photos. Blocked my number when I asked for help. Sold Jesse’s college story like it was a family win while pretending Caesar didn’t exist.

I glance toward his room.

His tiny arm is flung over his head. He sleeps like he trusts the world won’t break him. I want to keep it that way for as long as I can.

“I won’t take from my son to clean up her mess,” I say, voice steady now. Stronger than I feel.

“She’s your sister,” my mom spits. “You’ve changed.”

I close my eyes. And this time, I let the silence win. Because yes. I have changed. I don’t beg anymore.

I don’t chase people who only remember me when they need something. I don’t apologize for choosing Caesar

“I have to go,” I say quietly.

Before she can respond, I hang up. And for a second, I just stand there, phone still pressed to my ear like it can hold all the pieces together.

My heart pounds. Not from fear. From release. Because for the first time in a long time…I chose mysel

And Caesar.

But I know this won’t be the last call. My family doesn’t let go. They circle like ghosts, always waiting to haunt me again.

I slide the phone into a drawer.

I let the silence settle. And I remind myself- This time, I made the right choice, I did not break.

But next time…I might not be so lucky.