Amy Ruttan - The Surgeon King's Secret Baby

She tried to shrug out of his grip until she saw it was him and relaxed.

My son? he signed.

“Yes.”

Why didn’t you tell me I had a son? Were you trying to hide him from me? He instantly regretted the words. They were so much like something his father would have said.

Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead. I wouldn’t hide him from you—you know that.”

He wanted to believe that, but his own mother had tried to hide him from his father when she was pregnant.

“I never wanted you locked away in the palace, Kainan. I didn’t want you locked away like me. I tried to leave, but I couldn’t hide you from him either,” his mother had said on her death bed. “I just wanted us to be happy. To be free. I didn’t want you to grow up with him as a father.”

“Why?” He’d felt as if his life was a prison sentence. He was guarded and watched all the time, and though surrounded by people he’d always felt alone. “Why did you tell him?”

“I had to. I loved him.” His mother had sighed. “I am sorry I am leaving you. You will never be free. Even as the spare. You will never be your own man. I wanted more for you, Kainan. I’m sorry.”

His mother had died then, and his father had told him woman weren’t to be trusted.

“Never trust a woman, Kainan. Never.”

Kainan rubbed his temple, where a pounding headache was brewing.

Reagan didn’t hide your son from you. She thought you were dead.

That was little consolation to him at this moment.

“I have to go see him,” Reagan whispered.

What is wrong with him? he asked as they waited for the elevator.

“Cardiomyopathy.” There was a glitter of moisture in her eyes as she cleared her throat. “He was born that way. He was born with a failing heart.”

Oh, God.

His heart sank. It was too much. He’d learned he was a father and that his son was dying all in the same day.

He was no fool. He knew the severity of cardiomyopathy in a child.

Run. Turn and leave.

But he couldn’t do that either. He was not the cold, unfeeling man his father had been.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened, and they stood to the side as people got off, before getting in.

Kainan didn’t say anything as they rode in silence. Everything was still sinking in.

He had a son.

And his son was the Crown Prince of Isla Hermosa.

He felt bad for inflicting that burden on him. And his son was ill. Cardiomyopathy in an infant was horrific, and Kainan could only assume that he was on the UNOS wait list for a new heart, because that was his only chance at life.

Reagan led him to the NICU, giving him a disposable gown and mask. He didn’t really hear anything that anyone was saying as he was led into the room.

In the far corner stood an incubator that was covered with a blue blanket.

His heart was hammering.

He had never wanted a child. He didn’t want to sentence any child to a life where he couldn’t live, where he was under constant scrutiny. He’d never wanted a family. Relationships didn’t work. His father and late brother had shown him that. He didn’t want to trap a woman the way his mother had been trapped.

Reagan raised the blue blanket and Kainan gasped as he saw a baby with dark hair. A baby who looked like him and Reagan.

A baby hooked up to a machine.

His heart ached to hold him. It was instant love. It surprised him.

This child was the future of his country. But how could a voiceless king and a broken-hearted crown prince rule a country that was already broken and bleeding?

His heart shattered and guilt washed over him. Reagan had done this on her own. He hadn’t been there. He’d failed her. He’d failed them both.

All Kainan could do was turn and leave.

His heart was breaking along with his son’s.

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