Page 235 of Secret Heir For The Billionaire Twin

I look back at Sophie.

“How old is he?”

She hesitates, but only for a second.

It is enough.

My pulse turns heavy.

“Sophie,” I say, my voice lower now.

“How…old…is…he?”

Her eyes hold mine.

“Seven.”

Everything inside me goes still.

For a moment, I cannot move.

Sophie is still standing in the doorway, Theo just behind her, and something inside me has already begun assembling an answer I am not ready to hear.

The timing is too close.

Too clean.

Every gap I have spent years explaining away suddenly narrows into something else entirely.

I look at Sophie.

She knows.

I see it in the way her face changes, in the way her shoulders go rigid, in the way she does not ask what I am thinking.

“Sophie.”

Her eyes meet mine.

Theo looks between us.

“Mom?”

She turns toward him immediately.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.”

The tenderness in her voice hits me harder than anything else has. Because now I am not looking at some abstract possibility—I am looking at a child.

Her child.

A seven-year-old boy standing inside the life Sophie built after she disappeared from mine. And there is only one question left that matters.

I do not ask it.

Not here.

Not with him listening.