My Accidental Billionaire Husband (Katia and Julian) novel Chapter 337

And nobody had told me.

1 thought about every moment I had watched the two of them together and told myself it was simply a man who was good with children. Every time Aiden had reached for Julian without asking. Every time Julian’s head had turned before anyone else’s when Aiden called out across a room. Every sign I had filed away under something easier because looking at it directly would have meant asking a question I wasn’t ready to answer.

My son had known the truth before I did.

He hadn’t needed results or certificates or any of the documents that had turned my world over in the past few weeks. He had simply felt the truth of it and given it a name, the way children gave names to things that mattered, without ceremony, without waiting for anyone’s permission.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or wonder how many signs I had been standing in front of all this time without once letting myself actually see them.

I heard his voice from the kitchen, something about biscuits, the completely ordinary sound of a child at home in

breathing. a place he loved, and I pressed one hand flat against the wall and stood there for a moment,

Then I followed him down the hall.

“Aiden,” I called. “Two biscuits. Not the whole tin.”

“Three,” he called back.

“Two.”

There was a pause. “Two and a half,” he said.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway and laughed, really laughed, for the first time in longer than I could remember, and the sound of it surprised me almost as much as the word ‘Dad’ had.

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Julian’s POV

I had spent forty-eight hours in the Aman presidential suite, and the silence of the place was starting to feel like physical weight. Every corner of that room, the polished marble, the oversized velvet chairs, and the panoramic view of a city that suddenly felt like it belonged to someone else, was a reminder of my own strategic failure.

I had played the long game, trying to secure the pieces of my life, thinking I was the architect of my own family’s stability. I had found out a year ago that the woman I’d married seven years ago was the same woman I’d been sharing a life with, and I had chosen to keep that knowledge buried. I had let my son call me “Dad” for a year, watching him grow, feeling that bond, while I let Katia wander in the dark.

I thought I was being smart. I thought I was protecting them from the chaos of my world, from the boardrooms and the rivals and the people who would use my personal history as a weapon. Now, I was the one rotting in a hotel room while she took over the mansion. I was the one being locked.

I couldn’t take it anymore. The lack of control was eating me alive. I drove to the house, my knuckles white against the steering wheel, my heart hammering against my ribs. I pulled up to the main gate, the massive iron structure that usually swung open at the sight of my vehicle. I slowed to a crawl, waiting for the security detail to acknowledge me, to step out and buzz me through the way they had every day for decades.

Instead, the gate remained firmly closed.

I hit the horn once and twice; the sound was demanding. Finally, a security guard stepped out of the booth. He wasn’t one of the usual men I’d hired; he was a stranger, tall and stone-faced. His movement told me he knew exactly who I was and exactly what he was doing.

I rolled down my window, ready to bark an order, but he didn’t even look at my face. He just shook his head, his hands resting on his belt.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Windsor,” he said, his voice flat and devoid of the deference I was used to. “We have instructions. You are not to be granted entry.”

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