The CEO’s Masked Secret Wife novel Chapter 27

27 A Mother’s Secret, A Shared Name

Liam’s POV

I gripped the steering wheel tightly, stealing glances at Hazel in the passenger seat. Her fingers trembled as she clutched her phone, checking it obsessively. The revelation that she had a son had knocked the wind out of me.

“How old is he?” I asked, breaking the tense silence.

“Two,” she replied without looking up. “He’s never been this sick before.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I said, accelerating through a yellow light. “Kids get fevers all the

time.”

She finally looked at me, her green eyes swimming with tears. “You don’t understand. Leo is everything to me.”

Leo. The name hit me like a physical blow. My father’s name. What were the odds?

“We’re almost there,” I assured her, pushing thoughts of my father aside. “Which building?”

“The blue one on the right.” She pointed ahead. “Third floor, apartment 302.”

I pulled into a parking spot and killed the engine. Before I could get out, Hazel was already rushing toward the building entrance. I jogged after her, catching up at the

elevator.

The ride up was excruciating. Hazel kept biting her lower lip, a nervous habit I’d noticed during stressful meetings. But this was different. This was raw, maternal fear.

When the elevator doors opened, she bolted down the hallway. I followed, watching as she fumbled with her keys outside apartment 302.

“Let me,” I said gently, taking the keys from her shaking hands.

The door swung open to reveal a cozy apartment. A young woman with blonde hair stood in the living room, holding a small boy with dark curls.

“Thank God you’re here,” the babysitter said, her face lined with worry. “His fever’s gotten worse.”

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27 A Mother’s Secret. A Shared Name

Hazel rushed forward, taking the child from the woman’s arms. “Hey, baby. Mommy’s

here now.”

The boy’s face was flushed, his dark curls damp with sweat. He whimpered and buried his face against Hazel’s neck.

“Mrs. Peterson, how long has he been like this?” Hazel asked, her voice steadier than I expected.

“He was fine until his nap. Woke up burning up.” The older woman grabbed a thermometer from the coffee table. “Last check was 102.4.”

I stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling like an intruder in this intimate family scene. Yet I couldn’t make myself leave.

“We should take him to the hospital,” I heard myself say.

Both women turned to look at me, as if just noticing my presence.

“Who’s this?” Mrs. Peterson asked.

“My boss,” Hazel replied quickly, too distracted to elaborate. She pressed her lips to her son’s forehead. “He’s right. I’m taking Leo to the hospital.”

“I’ll drive, I insisted.

Hazel looked at me with such raw gratitude that something twisted painfully in my. chest.

“Let me grab his bag,” she said, shifting Leo to her hip. The boy clung to her, his small arms wrapped around her neck.

I moved closer, getting my first clear look at the child. His eyes, heavy with fever, opened briefly to study me. They were a striking shade of green–exactly like his mother’s.

But something else about him caught my attention. Something familiar that I couldn’t place.

“Here’s his insurance card,” Hazel said, handing me a small plastic card while juggling the boy and a hastily packed bag. “Can you hold this while I lock up?”

Mrs. Peterson stood watching us. “Do you want me to come with you?”

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2/7

“No, thank you.” Hazel shook her head. “Mr. Sterling will help me.”

The drive to the hospital was tense. In the backseat, Hazel cradled Leo, murmuring soothing words as he whimpered. I caught glimpses of them in the rearview mirror, struck by how different Hazel looked. Gone was the polsed, efficient assistant. In her place was a fierce, protective mother.

At the hospital, I found myself taking charge–filling out paperwork, speaking with the Intake nurse, using my name to ensure they were seen quickly. Hazel didn’t question my involvement, too focused on her son to wonder why her boss was so invested.

“The doctor will see you now,” a nurse announced after what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes.

I stood to follow them into the examination room, then hesitated. “Should I wait here?”

Hazel looked back at me, uncertainty flashing across her face. Then Leo whimpered again, and she made a decision.

“Please come,” she said softly.

The examination room was bright and sterile. Hazel sat on the bed with Leo in her lap, his small body curled against hers. I stood awkwardly against the wall, hands shoved in my pockets.

A middle–aged doctor entered, smiling warmly. “I’m Dr. Ramirez. What seems to be the problem with our little guy today?”

“High fever,” Hazel explained, her voice steady despite her obvious worry. “It came on suddenly this afternoon.”

Dr. Ramirez approached, gently placing his stethoscopé against Leo’s back. “And what’s this brave young man’s name?”

“Leo,” Hazel replied. “Leonardo, actually, but we call him Leo.”

The doctor smiled. “Good strong name. And how old is Leo?”

“He just turned two last month.”

I watched silently as the doctor examined the boy, checking his ears, throat, and lungs. Leo fussed but didn’t fight, clearly exhausted by the fever.

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27 A Mother’s Secret, A Shared Name

“Has Dad noticed any other symptoms?” Dr. Ramirez asked, glancing at me.

My heart stuttered. Before I could correct him, Hazel jumped in.

“Mr. Sterling is my employer. He was kind enough to drive us here.”

“I see” The doctor nodded, turning back to Leo.

“I’ve been with them since we left their apartment,” I heard myself say. “He’s been lethargic, but no vomiting or other symptoms that I’ve seen.”

Hazel shot me a surprised look, but I kept my eyes on the doctor.

“Well, it looks like Leo has a simple viral infection,” Dr. Ramirez concluded after completing his examination. “Nothing serious, but I understand why you were worried. His fever is quite high.”

The relief on Hazel’s face was palpable. “So he’ll be okay?”

“Absolutely. I’ll write a prescription for children’s fever reducer. Make sure he gets plenty of fluids. The fever should break within 24-48 hours.” The doctor scribbled on a prescription pad. “If it doesn’t, or if he develops new symptoms, bring him back.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Hazel said, her voice thick with emotion.

Dr. Ramirez handed me the prescription. “You can fill this at the pharmacy.

downstairs.”

I nodded, accepting my role in this family tableau without question.

After leaving the examination room, I insisted on filling the prescription while Hazel waited with Leo in the lobby. The boy had fallen into an uneasy sleep against her shoulder.

“You don’t have to do all this,” she said when I returned with the medicine and a stuffed dinosaur from the gift shop.

“I want to help,” I replied simply.

The drive back to her apartment was quieter, the atmosphere lightened by the doctor’s reassurance. In the backseat, Leo had woken up and was drowsily clutching the dinosaur I’d bought him.

“Dino,” he murmured, the first word I’d heard him speak.

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27 A Mother’s Secret, A Shared Name

That’s right, sweetie Hazel smiled, kissing his forehead. “Mr. Sterling got you a dinosaur

“Tank you,” the boy said, his eyes drifting toward me in the rearview mirror.

Something squeezed in my chest. “You’re welcome, buddy.”

At her apartment, I insisted on carrying Leo while Hazel unlocked the door. The boy felt small and fragile in my arms, his body radiating heat. He laid his head trustingly against my shoulder, too sick to be wary of a stranger.

Inside, Hazel directed me to a small bedroom decorated with stars and planets. I gently placed Leo on the bed, watching as Hazel measured out the medicine the doctor had prescribed.

“Okay, sweetie, this will make you feel better,” she coaxed, helping him drink the cherry–flavored liquid.

I stood in the doorway, feeling increasingly like an intruder in this intimate moment. Yet I couldn’t make myself leave.

“Is there anything else you need?” I asked when she had tucked Leo in with the

dinosaur.

Hazel looked up at me, exhaustion plain on her face. “You’ve already done so much.

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