Page 1 of The Billionaire's Secret Heir

Chapter One

Beckett Van de Kamp did not believe his father’s threats, which is why he had been scrolling through his work email during the meeting. Everyone knew that Sander Van de Kamp had been more of a figurehead at Van de Kamp International for the past five years while Beckett actually ran the billion-dollar company. Sometime in the next year his father would hand over his seat at the head of VDKI and retire. Even if Beckett didn’t have an heir. Because what could his father really do about that?

“Beckett?”

His father’s voice startled him, but Beckett didn’t show it. He stood and smoothly moved into his report on the newly acquired fleet of ships as though he had been listening the entire time. His father knew him too well, enough to know that Beckett hadn’t been paying attention. Sander’s frustration steeped just under the surface, but he sat down with a sigh.

“You should all have a copy of my report outlining the new totals for shipping capacity with the new ships and the capacity for oil barrels on each.”

As he walked the department heads through his report on the new fleet, Beckett noticed that his father seemed short of breath. His cheeks were also flushed. For a sixty-five-year-old, Sander was in great health. Or he had been. Maybe Beckett hadn’t been paying enough attention to his father in the last few months. When was the last time they had dinner together or spent time outside the office? When was the last time Beckett had really looked at his father?

Guilt, once an unfamiliar emotion, had become Beckett’s constant companion for the past few years. It flooded through him. He hadn’t expected that his new faith would impact so many parts of his life, showing him so many places where he had failed. It was exhausting and left him feeling defeated by his own weaknesses, his poor choices, and his past.

Finished with the fleet updates, Beckett dismissed the department heads. Sander stayed in his seat at the head of the table. Beckett stood by the window, looking out over Houston. The city had always been his home, save the years he spent at Yale, but Beckett had always thought of getting out. For the fourth-biggest city in the States, Houston’s downtown was surprisingly underwhelming. But Van de Kamp International dealt in oil and gas, making Houston the best place for the center of their business with its access to oil and the ship channel to the Gulf.

“Are you feeling well, Papa?”

“Well enough,” Sander said. “I’m sorry about Ava. I know it has been months, but I had not said this to you.”

He was a man who spoke perhaps a little too directly—he said this was the Dutch way. But he was also a master of controlling his emotions. He spoke bluntly, but that didn’t mean he shared his feelings. Beckett had learned well from him about hiding things.

Beckett hoped his father couldn’t see his reflection in the window. He didn’t want Sander seeing the way he still flinched hearing his ex-fiancée’s name. Ava was another reminder of Beckett’s failures. He had met her at church and made the naïve assumption that meant she was a woman of character. She was beautiful, but that turned out to be only skin-deep.

He had been surprised at the relief he had felt after the initial shock at finding out Ava had been seeing someone else while letting Beckett pay for everything. She was not so unlike the other women he had dated casually in the years before. And despite getting engaged, Beckett realized after the break-up that he had felt little more for Ava than any other woman.

He turned back to face his father. “Yes, well, it shouldn’t have been surprising. This is one of the struggles men of wealth face, isn’t it? People want the money, not the man.”

“I regret that this is part of it. I wish that you could have what I did with yourMama. We met before all this.” Sander gestured around the plush conference room, outfitted with all the latest technology and high-end furnishings.

Though it had been fifteen years since her death, talking about his mother made the loss feel fresh to Beckett. He closed his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve heard the story, Papa. But I don’t have the luxury of a before. I was practically born a billionaire, thanks to your hard work. Finding a woman who doesn’t know about my money is an impossibility.”

“That does not mean you cannot find one who cares about you, zoon.”

His father had been slipping more and more into using Dutch words, Beckett realized, thinking back to several occasions over the last week when his accent had thickened. Typically, Sander spoke in a more formal way, but his accent had almost completely faded after so many years in the United States. He had only spoken it fully with Beckett’s mother. Beckett made a mental note to call Graham later about his father. His younger brother tended to notice things like this more. Probably because Graham wasn’t running a billion-dollar company.

“I’m sure one day I will find someone,” Beckett lied.

If there was one thing he felt sure of, it was that he would not be settling down into the kind of family life his father hoped for him. It wasn’t that he thought he had passed his prime at thirty-six. But he doubted he would find the depth of relationship his father and mother had. Beckett had watched his father practically come apart at the seams when she died. It was impossible: he didn’t want a surface relationship, but he feared something deeper.

Beckett was lonely sometimes, but he was beginning to think that he was built for being alone. He excelled at business and if he didn’t have the same success at personal relationships, what did it really matter? It was fulfilling, at least to a point, to see VDKI grow and expand. Being married to his work seemed like the best answer. He had read recently about Paul in the New Testament and how he said it could be better to be single. That could be Beckett’s calling.

“Unfortunately, at this point, you meeting someone might be past my timeline,” Sander said.

This again. Beckett held back an eye roll. His father had been threatening for years to take away control of VDKI from Beckett if he didn’t have an heir. And Beckett had been ignoring these threats for just as long.

“Ah, the timeline. I think it’s highly unlikely that I’ll have an heir in the next year, Papa. I’m sorry.”

“I am sorry as well,” Sander said. “Not only for the sake of the company, but for you personally. Living a life without love—”

“The company will be fine. I’ve been at the helm for the past five years, despite the title on paper. We’ve never been in better shape.” Beckett crossed his arms, staring down at his father.

Sander frowned. “This is true. But you do not have an heir. That was my one stipulation. I have been very clear for the past ten years that it would be so.”

“Papa—”

Sander slammed his palms against the conference table. “Stil worden!”

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