Page 8 of The Prince's Secret Daughter
The elevator doors slid open with a soft whoosh, and Helen stepped into the expansive penthouse suite. Her eyes widened as she took in the stunning space before her. The room was a study in understated luxury—gleaming white walls stretched upward, their stark simplicity only broken by the soft glow of indirect lighting. The floor, a smooth marble polished to perfection, reflected the sunlight that streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden hue across the room. The place felt as though it existed in a world apart, distant from the rest of the city’s chaos, even though it sat in the heart of Chicago’s financial district.
She couldn’t help but pause for a moment to take in the breathtaking view. Beyond the glass, the city sprawled out beneath her, the skyline of towering glass and steel cutting into the horizon. The streets below seemed tiny, insignificant, while the expanse of the sky above felt endless. The contrast between the bustling world below and the tranquil isolation of the penthouse above was almost disorienting.
The furnishings were sleek, modern, and minimalist—white leather sofas arranged in an inviting circle, accented by glass coffee tables and metallic sculptures that caught the light in delicate, shimmering ways. In one corner, a grand piano sat under a soft spotlight, as if it were a sculpture in itself. Everything was immaculate, almost sterile in its perfection, yet there was an undeniable sense of comfort here, of wealth so refined it didn’t need to shout to be noticed.
Helen moved farther into the room, her heels clicking softly on the marble, her fingers trailing lightly across the smooth surface of the furniture. The air was fresh, filled with the faint scent of clean linen and something floral—perhaps a subtle perfume from the vase of white lilies placed delicately on the coffee table. She felt the weight of the space, its opulence, pressing in on her. This was the kind of life she’d only dreamed of—the kind of life she was now deeply entangled in.
But beneath the beauty and perfection of it all, there was a tension in the air, one that Helen could almost touch. It was the same tension that had brought her here, the same tension that had made her stomach knot with unease earlier. But for now, Angela was safe. And that was enough.
She inhaled deeply, preparing herself for whatever would come next. The room, beautiful as it was, felt like a gilded cage.
The second thing she noticed was Raj, standing by a window. Helen hurried toward him, demanding, “Where’s my daughter?”
A small, dark-haired rocket barreled straight for Helen. She bent down to catch Angela and held her close for a long moment, struggling to calm herself.
“Momma!” her tiny bundle of energy shrieked, wrapping tiny, chubby arms around Helen’s neck.
When the two pulled back, Angela immediately noticed the tears in her mother’s eyes. “Why are you crying?” she asked and before Helen could respond, she continued. “You know what will make you feel better?”
“What’s that?” Helen asked, laughing through her sobs as she noticed the smear of chocolate on her daughter’s cheek.
“Cookies!” she yelled happily. Then she looked over at the man by the window, her eyes turning cautious. “Who is that man?” she asked. “He looks really familiar.”
Helen sighed, knowing that her daughter was seeing herself in Raj’s features.
“Why don’t you go get me a cookie and we can talk, okay?”
Angela was more than eager to run off and get a warm cookie, most likely because she wanted another cookie for herself.
Helen stood up and realized that she had flour all over her clothes. She didn’t care. Angela was safe and that was all that mattered.
When she straightened up, Helen looked at Raj, resigned to explaining everything.
Chapter 5
Raj watched as mother and daughter reunited. He tried to suppress the anger he was feeling at being left out of his daughter’s life for four years. Five, if one counted Helen’s pregnancy.
And yes, he could tell Angela was his child. It was shocking how much they resembled each other. Angela was a feminine version of himself.
Why the hell had Helen hidden his daughter from him? Why hadn’t she found some way to communicate with him? She’d denied him four years of Angela’s life!
But he was reminded that his brother, Joran, had experienced nearly the same issue. He’d discovered that he had twin sons when they were nearly two months old. But Joran had been allowed to hold his sons as babies. The boys were four years old now. It was hard to believe that Angela was about the same age as Rafi and Laith. He adored those boys and had enjoyed watching them grow. There was also Zayne, his oldest brother, Khal’s, son. Zayne was a year younger than the twins and the three were absolute terrors at times.
All this time, Angela could have been there, helping with…whatever the hell cousins helped with! Raj knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but this whole day had been a complete muck up! His accountant and legal representative had been drugged, he’d found the woman who had haunted his dreams, and discovered he had a daughter!
“Thank you,” Helen replied, her voice cracking as she whispered her gratitude.
Raj’s anger boiled hotter at Helen’s words. “Thankyoufor letting me know that I have a daughter,” he snapped, gripping his glass of scotch tightly. “Thank you for letting me know that you were pregnant. Thank you for ensuring that I missed the birth of my child!”
He knew he wasn’t being fair. But Raj didn’t feel like being fair. Not when he’d just discovered that the woman he’d missed so desperately for the past five years had reappeared…with a daughter!
“Don’t you dare talk to me about not telling you something, Raj!” she hissed, conscious of Angela nearby. “You walked out on me without a word!”
Walked out on her? How dare she! “I came back to you! But you were already gone! There was a new person living in that old apartment.”
Helen’s eyes fired with an anger equal to his own. “I told you I was moving from that apartment!” she came right back.
He thought back to their conversations, but he didn’t remember any discussion about her moving. “When?”
