Chapter 21: The First Night
The apartment was small, with scuffed hardwood floors and a view of a brick wall, but to Elias, it was a palace. They stood in the empty living room, surrounded by boxes, the scent of fresh paint and possibility hanging in the air.
"It's perfect," Eleanor whispered, her voice full of wonder.
He watched her walk from room to room, her fingers trailing along the walls as if memorizing every inch. This was their space. Theirs. The reality of it made his throat tight.
They spent the day unpacking, their movements falling into an easy rhythm. He assembled the bed frame while she arranged books on shelves. He hooked up the internet while she stocked the kitchen with the basics they'd bought together. There was no strategy, no calculation—just the simple, domestic joy of building a home.
As the sun set, they collapsed onto the couch, a single blanket pulled over them, too tired to unpack anything else. The room was lit only by the streetlights filtering through the window, casting long shadows across the half-unpacked boxes.
"I can't believe we're here," she said, her head resting on his shoulder.
"Me neither." He pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her. "This is all I've ever wanted."
She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes soft in the dim light. "No empire? No fortune?"
"This is my empire," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You're my fortune."
Her smile was everything. It was the sun rising on a world he thought he'd lost forever.
Later, as they lay in their new bed, the city sounds a distant hum, she traced the line of his jaw. "Are you happy, Eli?"
He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "I didn't know what happy was until I met you."
The words hung in the dark, simple and true. There were no stock portfolios to check, no rivals to outmaneuver, no kingdoms to build. There was only this: her breath against his skin, the weight of her head on his chest, the steady beat of her heart syncing with his.
In the quiet of their first night, Elias finally understood. He hadn't been sent back to rebuild an empire or correct business mistakes. He'd been sent back for this—for the chance to fall asleep with the woman he loved in a small apartment that felt more like home than any penthouse ever could.
The fallen king was finally at peace, his crown traded for something far more precious—a future, shared.