The Heir in Disguise

Chapter Two Who Lucas Really Is

Lucas stepped out of the dressing room and made his way back to the altar.

Priest Adam stood exactly where Lucas had left him, hands folded gently over the folds of his ceremonial robe. The aging priest gave a slight shake of his head when he saw Lucas return alone. He had witnessed this painful scene twice before—grooms left standing, abandoned without warning. Now, with Lucas, it has happened a third time.

But there was something different about this one.

Lucas didn’t break down. He didn’t fall to his knees or sob uncontrollably. His eyes were red, yes, and there was a heavy weight in his chest—but he held himself together with a kind of quiet dignity that even Adam admired.

“Thank you for your time, Father,” Lucas said with calm reverence. “But it seems the wedding won’t be happening after all.”

Adam sighed, a deep, thoughtful breath that carried the weight of compassion.

Usually, he said little to the couples he joined, except during the vows. But this time felt different. He placed a steady hand on Lucas’s shoulder and offered in a soft, reassuring tone, “Don’t worry. You’ll find someone else. Someone who’ll truly cherish your worth.”

Lucas nodded once and turned toward the cathedral’s grand wooden doors. Stepping outside, he paused to look up at a giant billboard beside the church—his face beside Isla’s, both of them beaming like a storybook couple. A perfect image of bliss meant to last forever.

But had that happiness ever really existed?

He walked down the street in silence, each step echoing the ache in his chest, until he found a quiet coffee shop. He entered and took a seat on a high stool by the counter. His hands rested on the smooth wood as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out the ring—the one he was supposed to place on Isla’s finger just moments ago. It sparkled, a brilliant diamond perched on a band of pure gold.

“My God, is that real?” the barista asked with a wide grin, eyes lighting up as they caught sight of the gemstone.

She was a gem enthusiast, a self-made connoisseur of precious metals and stones. Every year, she closed shop and flew to Dubai to add to her collection. Jewelry, to her, was more than decoration—it was a vault of value.

She didn’t need to touch the ring to know it was real. She could see its quality from where she stood.

Lucas didn’t answer. He wasn’t here for small talk. His fiancée had just stood him up at their wedding. Conversation was the last thing he wanted.

“If you may,” he said quietly. “I’m not in a good mood right now. Could I just get a cup of coffee?”

“Of course,” she replied, sensing his mood shift. She turned and moved to the back to brew it fresh.

Lucas turned the ring slowly between his fingers, letting the light catch its edges. Today had been the day he planned to tell Isla everything.

He had practiced his words carefully. He was not an orphan. He wasn’t even a Wren.

He was Lucas Virelli.

The heir to the Virellon Group, a powerful multinational empire that stretched across luxury fashion and cosmetics, real estate and resorts, tech and innovation, gourmet foods and fine dining. Isla had no idea.

Three years ago, Lucas had been riding in the backseat of a tinted limousine when he first saw her. She had walked into a boutique with the grace of a goddess. He was captivated instantly and had been ready to leap out and introduce himself.

But his father, Adrian Virelli, had stopped him with a firm hand.

“She won’t love you for who you are if you show her all of this,” Adrian had warned, gesturing to the wealth and the power surrounding them. “She’ll fall in love with what you can give her.”

So they made a plan.

Lucas would live simply. Disguised as an orphan. He would date her, learn her heart, and see whether love could grow from truth disguised in simplicity.

She had accepted his proposal after two years, and Lucas had been overjoyed. He called his father that night, trembling with hope.

“Don’t get too excited yet,” Adrian had said. “Let’s see if she wears the ring.”

Lucas had gently prepared Isla for the wedding, talked about it often, dreamed aloud of their future. He wanted her to pass this final test because he truly loved her.

In secret, he supported her fledgling clothing brand, funneled money into her business through anonymous donors, watched as she bloomed into her dreams—never once claiming credit.

But the moment she would’ve learned the truth—of who he was, what she meant to him, what she was about to inherit—she left him.

At the altar.

“Thank you,” Lucas murmured as the barista returned with his coffee. He took it with a nod, still turning the ring gently between his fingers.

After a moment, he looked at her. “Do you want this?” he asked softly, offering the ring.

Her eyes widened. She looked at the diamond again, then at the shimmering gold band. Her throat tightened. She could barely breathe.

It was worth at least a million dollars. She knew. She had handled rare pieces all her life, and this one was elite—crafted with skill, made from materials few in the world could afford.

She swallowed hard.

“Yes,” she whispered, stunned by the weight of the moment—and the man before her. Who just hands over a fortune like it’s a cookie?

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice trembling, eyes searching his face. Had the president of the world just stepped into her café unnoticed?

Lucas didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. A million dollars was nothing to him. A droplet in the ocean of the Virellon fortune.

He smiled faintly, heart still heavy but steady.

Standing, he gently placed the ring in her palm.

“Thank you for the coffee.”

Then, cup in hand, he stepped out of the shop and into a world that had just revealed its harshest truth.