The Secret Heir Return To Wealth And Love

Wayne's gaze pierced through the heavy air as guilt once again began to swell within him. He was on the edge of reaching out, of drawing the boy into a hug, swallowing back the avalanche of unsaid words. But out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the picture by the bedside.

His hands clenched into fists, the veins on the back standing out, his skin a map of tiny puncture scars.

"But what did I do wrong?" Wayne's voice was steady as he looked at the boy. "Your tragedy isn't of my making, and my guilt, it's misplaced."

"Don't..." The boy's eyes brimmed with tears as they pleaded with Wayne, his weak head shaking ever so slightly.

The cruel words from the diary pages flashed before Wayne's eyes.

"My wife used to tell me love is freedom, not chains. Love brings joy, not pain," Wayne said earnestly. "Ayden, it's time to say goodbye. My wife and kids are waiting for me at home."d2

"You're leaving me?" Ayden's voice was a choked whisper as he inched closer, his emaciated figure making his eyes look all the more oversized.

He resembled a stray pup, pitiful and helpless.

Wayne's grip tightened. "You were never supposed to exist," he articulated each word.

Ayden just stared, stunned.

Wayne continued, "This is farewell. I won't be there to protect you anymore, no matter how dire things seem."

He paused before adding, "Ayden had freed himself many, many years ago. He set himself free, he wasn't the pitiful child waiting for someone's rescue."

Penn had told him that sometimes shattering illusions and hallucinations only took a single sentence. Like a secret passphrase.

Having delivered those words, the young boy in front of Wayne transformed into a young man with features strikingly similar to his own.

The young man studied Wayne, and after a long moment, a look of relief spread across his face.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

He approached Wayne, bending down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead. For a moment, Wayne felt transported back to his childhood days.

Quentin knew his origins. Bearing the title of father, yet never sparing a sliver of affection. He would never kiss his forehead with such gentleness.

"You've grown well, and I'm glad," the young man's voice carried the warmth Wayne had only heard about from others. "Wayne, I've never despised your birth. I understand it's not your fault." Indeed. Wayne pondered, momentarily lost in thought.

The diary's contents were too harrowing.

Ayden had slain his beloved fiancée and their unborn child. He had ended his life in a violent act.

He was the unspeakable secret of the Silverman family.

Wayne had forgotten that, in the hearts of the elders, Ayden had always been a good man.

Faced with his birth, Ayden might have been angry, blamed his mother's selfishness, but he would never harbor resentment towards an innocent infant.

He would only feel pity for him, worried about his future growing up by his mother's side.

Another rusty, ancient shackle in Wayne's heart unlocked without a sound.

Wayne's soul, long shackled in the abyss, felt the chains loosen, one by one. His escape grew nearer.