My Son Mistook The Heir For His Dad

Cecilia was busy in the bathroom, the sound of running water drowning out any other noises.

“Once you’re done cleaning up, come out here and grab a coffee for your dad,” she called to Santos, who was bouncing with excitement, waiting to finally step into his dad’s room.

“Yippee!”

He carefully put the earring back in its box before dashing out to get the coffee.

He gave a cautious knock on the door. “Dad, can I come in?”

Bruno was caught off guard by the boy’s politeness. When he saw Santos peeking through the door, the usual coldness he felt toward kids thawed just a little.

But his voice stayed aloof. “Come in.”

Bruno hoped that keeping things distant would make Santos give him some space, so he could get a little peace.

Santos carried the cup over carefully. “Dad, here’s your coffee.”

Bruno, still not used to being called “Dad,” took the cup, swallowed his pills, and handed it right back. “Alright, you can go now.”

Santos didn’t budge. He spotted Bruno’s injury. “Does it hurt a lot, Dad?”

“Not at all. Now get going.”

“Dad, you’re just faking it! You’re hurting so bad you can’t even get out of bed. I’ll blow on it—it’ll feel better.”

And with that, Santos climbed onto the bed and gently blew on the wound. The tickling sensation actually seemed to ease Bruno’s pain.

The worry in Santos’s eyes, the way he was genuinely trying to comfort him—it softened Bruno’s heart. Maybe kids weren’t so bad after all.

Pretending to stay indifferent was getting harder. He lifted his shirt a little. “Blow on my waist, too.”

As Cecilia busied herself outside, she’d steal glances every now and then. Seeing the two of them getting along like that brought a smile to her face.

Just seeing her son spend a moment with his “dad” made it worth having Bruno around.

Once the laundry was hung up to dry, Cecilia appeared in the doorway. “Santos, Mommy has to go out. Wanna go play at Auntie Kahlani’s?”

She wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with Bruno.

“I don’t wanna! I wanna stay with Dad!” Santos protested.

Bruno got why she hesitated and agreed. “I’m gonna take a nap. Go on over to Auntie’s.”

Reluctantly, Santos nodded. “Okay, Dad. Sleep good. We’ll play more when you wake up.”

Finding common ground on parenting surprised Cecilia. That was rare—and welcome.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she joked to Bruno, “In just half a day, your word’s already got more pull than mine.”

Santos’s infectious enthusiasm had already lightened Bruno’s mood; he was way less icy. “Jealous?”

“Oh please, in your dreams,” Cecilia shot back with a laugh.

After dropping Santos off at Auntie Kahlani’s, Cecilia headed out.

She ran her errands and made her way to the local “information hub”—the coffee shop. It was the go-to spot for all the latest town gossip.

With the sudden appearance of an outsider in town, and suspects of a chase, she wondered if anyone had useful info. But after eavesdropping for a while, she didn’t hear a single peep about Bruno.

Disappointed, and about to leave, her phone rang.

“Miss Dunn, the fees for Bed 26 are due again.”

Cecilia’s face went serious. Her voice came out heavy. “I’ll pay them right now.”

After covering the hospital bills, she stared at her dwindling balance, worry pressing in.

She changed course and headed to the police station.

“Any missing person reports lately?” she asked.

The officer gave her a puzzled look. “No, why? You find someone? A homeless guy or a kid?”

Her disappointment deepened. “No, I was just checking.”

Leaving the station, she felt crushed. Without knowing who Bruno was, she couldn’t claim the half a million she was promised. Without that money, she couldn’t get better treatment for her loved one in the hospital.

Lost in thought, she made her way home.

“Auntie Kahlani, I’m here for Santos.”

“He already went back,” Auntie Kahlani said.

The color drained from Cecilia’s face.

Bruno had told her he didn’t like kids. Could his warmth from earlier have been an act? Had he mistreated Santos while she was gone?

Panic surging, she rushed home and shouted, “Santos! Santos Ryan!”

Silence.

Heart pounding, she threw open Bruno’s bedroom door—and froze at the sight.

Santos was lying there, peacefully asleep next to Bruno, who was gently fanning him with a palm leaf.

Hearing the ruckus, Bruno looked up, exhaustion in his eyes.

Cecilia finally let out a breath, dropping her voice. “Why’s he sleeping in here?”

Bruno tossed the fan into her lap, grumbling, “He got sleepy, climbed up, and passed out on his own. Now get him outta here!”

At first, Bruno wanted to shoo the clingy kid away. But then, as Santos mumbled “I love you, Dad” in his half-sleep and snuggled up against Bruno’s leg, his heart just melted.

Watching Santos sleep there, all sweaty and cute, Bruno couldn’t help himself. He started fanning him with the palm leaf to cool him down. Half an hour later, his arm was aching from the effort.

Cecilia was touched by this unexpected softness from Bruno. “Thank you. Let him sleep a little longer.”

She stepped out briefly and came back with a bunch of stuff for Bruno.

“Got your trash can,” she announced. “Now you can take care of it yourself.”

Bruno’s face twisted in disbelief and disgust. “I told you, I don’t need it!”

Cecilia’s smile was sweet, but her tone was hard. “Suit yourself. But just so you know, if the couch gets messed up, there will be consequences.”

Bruno glared at her back as she walked away, wishing he could bore holes into her with just his eyes.

By evening, the small room had gotten stuffy, so Bruno was moved to the living room sofa. After lying around so long, he was feeling restless.

He spotted some magazines under the coffee table and grabbed one, calling out to Cecilia as she tidied up nearby. “You into finance magazines?”

“Not really,” Cecilia said. “Left by some old tenant. I was gonna sell them for recycling.”

Bruno’s eyes landed on an article with an interview. “Don’t sell ’em yet. I’ll use ’em to kill time.”

This issue had an interview with his grandfather, Conor Vargas.

Bruno looked more like his mother than the Vargas side, so he barely glanced at the photo, more absorbed in the article.

Santos scampered over. “Dad, I wanna read too!”

Even though the kid’s presence no longer annoyed him, liking him was still a stretch. Focused on the article, Bruno said, “Go play somewhere else,” without really thinking.

Cecilia cut in, “Talk to him right, Bruno!”

Remembering their earlier deal, Bruno finally looked up, his patience wearing thin. “Fine. You can read with me, but no noise.”

Santos nodded eagerly, happily settling in next to Bruno.

Bruno let the boy snuggle under his arm, the two of them bent over the magazine together—a surprisingly heartwarming sight.

Cecilia couldn’t help but pull out her phone and take a video. She figured it’d be something for Santos to look back on when he missed his dad.

After filming from the front, she moved behind them. When she looked at the magazine page, her face froze.

She snatched it away. “Conor Vargas?”

Bruno looked up, surprised. “You know the richest man in New York City?”