Page 64 of The Secret Heir Next Door

He studies me for a moment, clearly not convinced. “You’ve done enough today. You’ve been amazing. Let them handle the rest.”

“I just need to clear my head,” I say softly, turning back to my task. “Please.”

“Uncle Logy!” Abby hollers as she tugs on the bottom of his shorts. “Come play one last game with me before bed!”

He glances at me, and I give him a reassuring nod. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and lets Abby drag him off toward the house. I watch them go, a pang of longing in my chest, before turning back to the trash before me.

I lose myself in the rhythm of cleaning, the simple, repetitive motions soothing, in a way. The noise of the party is gone, replaced by the quiet sounds of the night. It’s peaceful, almost meditative, and I can forget about everything else for a while.

I’m stacking plates when I notice someone else silently helping to clear the table. I glance over and see Brant working alongside me. He doesn’t say anything at first, just picks up where I left off, his presence calm and steady.

“You don’t have to help.”

“I don’t mind. I feel like I’m useless right now,” he jokes.

We work in companionable silence for a few minutes. The only sounds are the clinking of plates and the rustle of trash bags. I’ve always liked Brant; he’s easy to be around, with a quietstrength that’s comforting. But tonight, I can’t help but wonder how much he knows about Logan’s family, about the pressure they’re putting on him.

Finally, I work up the courage to ask. “How well do you know Logan’s family?”

He pauses, looking thoughtful as he sets down a stack of plates. “I’ve known them for years,” he says slowly. “Most people would say they’re like my second family, but I’d never say that. It’s more like… Logan was adopted, you know? Because he’s a good human, and they’re not.”

I blink, surprised by his bluntness. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, leaning against the table as he crosses his arms.

“Logan’s always been different from them. Better. When he made his first million, I was afraid he’d start to become like them—entitled, elitist, all about the money. It was touch and go there for a while because he’s constantly in CEO mode, but… he’s not them. He never could be. They’re horrible human beings, Serena. They think they’re basically royalty, and they’ll do anything to keep their power.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it’s true. They’re the kind of people who think the world owes them something just because of who they are. But Logan… he’s different. He’s always been different. Why do you ask?”

I swallow hard, trying to process everything he’s saying. “I’m just curious,” I say, though the words feel hollow.

The truth is, I’m terrified. Terrified of what Logan’s family is capable of and of what this might mean for him—for us.

What if he actually is like them?

Brant studies me for a moment, then nods as if he understands. “Just be careful, Serena. Logan’s a good man, but his family… they’re not people you want to cross.”

I nod, my throat tight. “Thanks, Brant. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He gives me a reassuring smile before returning to the task at hand. We finish cleaning up the rest of the area, working in silence, but my mind is racing, thoughts spinning out of control.

What have I gotten myself into?

When the last of the mess is cleared away, Brant straightens up and gives me a nod.

“You did a great job today, Serena. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Thanks,” I reply. He gives me one last look, then heads back toward the house, leaving me alone in the garden.

I stand there for a long moment, staring into the darkness, the weight of everything pressing down on me. Logan’s family is powerful, and they won’t let him go without a fight. And me? I’m just Serena, a party planner slash candy shop owner with no real power or influence.

But as I turn to head back to the house, one thought keeps echoing in my mind. Logan’s different. He’s better than them. And maybe that’s enough.

But it doesn’t stop the guilt that gnaws at me, the feeling that I’m not worth the sacrifices he’s willing to make.

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