The morning sun poured into Emila's penthouse.
The air smelled like spring—fresh roses from the garden.
She lay awake, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the rhythmic breathing of Sebastian beside her. A year ago, this stillness would have made her anxious. Now it was a gift.
The house wasn't silent. Hope's giggles mixed with Elian's determined babbling. Emilia smiled. Their daughter had Sebastian's eyes and Emilia's flair for drama, while Elian had inherited his mother's fierce gaze and his father's calm disposition—until he didn't get his way.
She slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Sebastian, and padded barefoot across the hardwood floors. She peeked into the nursery, where the twins were standing in their cribs—Hope bouncing excitedly, Elian holding his stuffed dog like it was a sacred relic.
"Mama!" Hope squealed.
Emilia scooped her up, planting a kiss on her soft curls before reaching for Elian.
"Good morning, my little world-changers."
They were one now—walking, talking in their own twin language, and discovering every cabinet Emilia forgot to child-lock. They'd survived sleepless nights, fevers, first teeth, and Emilia had survived the dark storm of her past. Somehow, all of it was behind them.
Or so she thought.
By the time breakfast was on the table—scrambled eggs for Sebastian, toast and fruit for the twins, and strong black coffee for herself—the house felt alive. Sebastian entered the kitchen in joggers and a white T-shirt, still drying his damp hair with a towel. His grin widened when he saw her already managing the twins like a pro.
"Still think I'm the luckier one?" he teased, pressing a kiss to the side of her face.
Emilia gave him a look. "You get to sleep through the night."
"I get woken up by two human alarm clocks who attack me with kisses. I think we both win."
He took Elian from her arms and settled beside Hope, feeding them bits of toast while Emilia sipped her coffee, watching them. A year ago, they were just trying to survive as new parents, Now they were building a life. Quiet mornings. Laughter. Family.
And yet, something still tugged at the back of her mind. It wasn't paranoia. It was instinct. That gut-deep knowing that peace this pure never lasted forever.
After breakfast, Sebastian headed out to work—a place Emilia had secretly invested in, turning it into a growing, thriving business. He didn't know the full extent of her help, only that he had somehow become one of the most talked-about in the city. Emilia had insisted on staying out of the spotlight, letting his work speak for itself.
She spent the day with the twins in the garden. Tasha—her ever-loyal assistant turned friend and also the kids godmother—arrived with files, updates, and a box of pastries from Emilia's favorite bakery.
"You've got a meeting with the architects at noon," Tasha said, handing her a folder. "They want to show you the final concept for the art center you're funding."
Emilia took the folder with one hand, balancing Hope on her hip with the other. "Do I have time to breathe first?"
"You breathe like a queen. Always graceful, even with spit-up on your shoulder."
Emilia laughed. "Thank you for the honesty."
Tasha gave her a long look. "You're different lately. Lighter."
Emilia nodded, eyes drifting toward the open garden gate where Elian toddled after a butterfly.
That afternoon, while the twins napped and Tasha took a call inside, Emilia walked through her study. She opened a drawer, pulling out a red-bound journal—her own little dossier. Names. Places. Traces of old betrayals. Even after all this time, she couldn't let go of everything that happened. Not yet.
Marcus, Liam and the others were out of the picture, permanently. But loose ends still lingered. A few strange messages, a couple of documents that didn't add up in the company's accounts… It wasn't paranoia.
It was unfinished business.
Later that evening, when the twins were down and the house finally quiet again, Sebastian found her on the balcony. She was barefoot in one of his shirts, sipping from a glass of wine, her eyes trained on the dark horizon.
"You're thinking too hard again," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind.
"I can't help it."
He kissed her temple. "The past is dead, Em."
"Maybe. But its ghosts linger in receipts and phone calls."
He didn't press. He never did. That was the magic of Sebastian—he trusted her to chase what needed chasing but grounded her when she floated too far.
"We'll be okay," he whispered. "Whatever's coming—we'll face it together."
She turned in his arms and looked up into his eyes, the same eyes that saw her and loved her .
"Promise me something," she said.
"Anything."
"If things ever get bad again… don't let go of me."
He cupped her face with both hands, voice steady. "I'd burn the world down first."
And just like that, the silence between them wasn't empty. It was filled—with love, with fire, with the steady beat of two hearts that had survived the worse and were ready for whatever came next.....