Secret Of The Butterfly: The CEO's Hidden Heirs

olden stripes across the floor. Celeste stood at the stove, stirring a pot of o

ted on sleeping in again. His hair, though messy from sleep, was combe

notebook almost as big as his face.

Caleb, sweetheart, can we d

d to allocate time for Ethan to finish fixing the neighbor's blender, a

hair sticking up in all directions, holding a screwdriver

d," he announced proudly, waving the broken toy above his head. "The

as f

electronics like a

etheart, you have to be careful n

is big eyes, "I can put them back perf

him no, a soft voice

d Sophi

e. His calm, quiet nature made him seem older than his age. He approached

xplained with a sigh. "Trying

ll fists into the ai

ed, gently applying a tiny bandage to

hem-her brilliant,

a born

e mind of

l, a tin

fearless

destinies unfoldi

were becoming

-

fashion meeting later that day, chao

an wit

, rushed down the hall screaming. Without waiting for permission, Ethan walked up to the

gasped. "No, no, sw

click s

or swu

d, blinked up at

ears filled her eyes. "How... how d

shrugged. "

little boy who could fix anything. The tiny

ned that evening, the nei

your children

extraor

st be s

politely, but h

n't risk

t

and desperate in his search-still hunted t

-

ildren gathered in Celeste's room as t

, sitting beside her on t

his hair. "You'r

he replied ma

to her lap. "Are

eleste whispered,

ith a book. "Then why does

around Celeste's waist

ste

at her with eyes too

e they were born-she wondered whether ke

he t

ied to

s trembled i

your gifts too soon," she finally

ophia asked,

ore Celeste could.

inhaled

our father?" she whispere

not babies. We know we have one. A

er sleeve. "Di

t her sadly. "Or d

. "If he hurt you, I'll

laughter and tear

of them into her arms. "It's... complicated

t?" Cal

. "A night we were never supposed to share. A

nce

quietly, "Do yo

didn't

her chest, the truth

w," she fina

ldren excha

y k

alway

-

rew quiet and the city lights flickere

nd him," he to

an trace anything. Just give

d his chin. "We

er tiny knuckles. "If he's

ttle ge

arts beating f

man their mo

e admitted

eyed, sleepless, and powerful enough to bend nations

le printed ima

ecurity fo

ering an airport

th a butte

" he whispered

he answers he craved

earching

dy co

ossed, nothing-absolutely nothi