Chapter 10 - The Real Heir
Five years later.
The summer sun was shining brightly over Lake Memphremagog. The Laurent-Roy home was filled with the delicious aroma of a barbecue sizzling on the porch.
Maya, now a confident fourteen-year-old high school honor student, was sitting on the grass with her sketchbook, drawing the landscape with incredible detail. Lily, eleven, was splashing happily in the shallow lake water with our two golden retrievers.
I sat on the porch rocking chair, holding a warm mug of chamomile tea, watching my husband Gabriel push a small wooden toy car across the deck floor for our three-year-old son, Leo.
Yes. A son.
When Leo was born three years ago, Gabriel hadn't thrown a grand party. He hadn't called the press. He hadn't bragged about an "heir."
On the day Leo was born, Gabriel had walked into my hospital room, kissed my sweaty forehead, and immediately picked up Maya and Lily, pulling all three of our children into his arms and saying, "Look at my three beautiful treasures."
To Gabriel, Leo wasn't an "heir" to carry on an ego; he was just another precious soul to love, raise, and teach alongside his sisters.
"Mommy! Look!" Leo squealed, running over to my chair with his chubby little legs, holding up a bright yellow butterfly he had caught in his net. "Look what I found!"
"It's beautiful, Leo," I smiled, scooping him up onto my lap and kissing his soft cheek. "Show your sisters!"
Maya looked up from her sketchbook, smiling warmly at her baby brother. "Bring him over here, Leo! I’ll draw him in my book for you!"
Leo giggled, scrambling down from my lap and running off toward Maya, his tiny footsteps light and free on the wooden deck.
Gabriel walked over to my chair, leaning against the railing, placing his arm around my shoulders. He looked out at our three children playing together in the warm afternoon sun.
"What are you thinking about, sweetie?" Gabriel asked gently, leaning down to kiss the side of my neck.
I looked at my daughters—happy, confident, brilliant young women who knew their worth, who were loved unconditionally, and who would never let anyone make them feel small. I looked at my son, who was learning every day from Gabriel how a real man treats the women in his life with respect, honor, and devotion.
I smiled, leaning my head against Gabriel's warm chest, taking a deep, peaceful breath of the sweet summer air.
"I’m just thinking about how lucky I am," I whispered softly.
Seven thousand miles away, the Bastien name was nothing more than a forgotten footnote in an old business registry—an empty word associated with bankruptcy, vanity, and ruined lives.
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But here, on the shores of Lake Memphremagog, my family was whole. My daughters were cherished. My life was rich.
And as I watched my children laugh together under the bright Canadian sky, I knew with absolute, unshakeable certainty that the true victory of my life hadn't happened when I left Paris—it had happened at 10:17 AM, the exact second I decided to walk away from a coward and choose love instead.
