Noah’s patience is already threadbare by the time Ivana starts speaking, her tone sharp and her words carefully chosen to provoke. He doesn’t let her finish. Instead, he grabs her arm, firm but controlled, and steers her away from the children. Her eyes widen, and for once, she’s speechless. He seizes the opportunity. “I don’t want to hear another word from you, Ivana,” he says, his voice low but biting. His eyes pierce hers, unrelenting. “Especially not in front of the kids. Do you understand me?” Her mouth opens slightly, a protest forming, but the sheer intensity of his gaze silences her. She crosses her arms instead, her lips pressing into a thin, defiant line as she steps back. Noah exhales, drawing in a slow breath to ground himself. He turns away from her without another word and steps between Ivana and the little boy holding a well-worn toy car tightly to his chest. The boy stares up at him with curious, cautious eyes. Noah softens his expression, crouching to meet the c
Noah King isn’t a man who wastes time. His days are meticulously planned, his decisions calculated, his actions deliberate. But today, for the first time in years, he lets the hours slip through his fingers like sand. And he doesn’t regret it. There’s an innocence to the child that Noah finds both comforting and unsettling as if Noel’s laughter chips away at a part of himself he thought he buried long ago. They spend the rest of the day doing things Noah hasn’t done since he was a kid: buying toys at the mall, eating messy burgers and fries at a diner, and running through the park as the sun dips low. It isn’t just an outing; it’s a memory in the making, one that feels foreign and painfully nostalgic. Noel wears a blue knitted sweater with shorts and little sandals. His glasses, slightly too large for his face, keep slipping down his nose. Every time he pushes them back up with a tiny hand, warmth floods Noah’s chest, soothing the edges of his otherwise hardened demeanor.
The silence in the house is deafening. It’s the kind of silence that presses against your chest, making it hard to breathe. Sienna sits on the edge of the bed, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. She can hear the faint shuffle of Noah in the adjoining bathroom, the sound of water running, and the occasional clink of glass. Her heart is heavy, her mind racing with regret. She glances at the clock. 11 p.m. He still hasn’t said a word to her since their argument. Every second of quiet feels like a small cut, the ache deepening as the minutes tick by. When Noah finally emerges, his face is unreadable. He’s already in his pajamas, his dark hair damp from a quick shower. He avoids looking at her as he crosses the room to his side of the bed, pulling back the covers with methodical precision. “Noah,” she starts softly, her voice trembling. He doesn’t respond, slipping under the blankets and turning onto his side, his back facing her. Her chest tightens. “Please, don’t
Sienna paces the living room floor, her bare feet brushing against the cold tiles as the hours stretch on endlessly. She’s draped in a soft robe, her swollen eyes red from crying, her stomach unsettled. Every noise from outside makes her head snap toward the front door, her heart leaping with hope, only to crash when it remains shut. She’s thrown up twice, her body feverish and trembling, her mind unable to settle. Noah hasn’t come back. The sound of tires crunching gravel startles her from her daze. She clutches the edge of the couch, her breath hitching. For a moment, she dares to hope it’s him. But when the door swings open, it’s not Noah—it’s Vox. He steps inside, his sharp features softening when he sees her. “Mrs. King,” he says gently, his tone measured, careful. She tries to smile, but it’s faint, her energy too drained to sustain it. “Vox,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “What are you doing here? And, please, just call me Sienna.” He hesitates, glancing at her robe
Noah sprints through the park, water spraying everywhere as Noel giggles uncontrollably, clutching his sides. The boy’s glasses slide down his nose for the hundredth time, and he pauses mid-run to shove them back up, his tiny hands fumbling. “You’re not getting away from me, kid!” Noah calls, laughing as he chases after him, water hose in hand. Noel’s shrieks fill the air, his laughter infectious. His little legs carry him as fast as they can, but Noah catches up, aiming the stream of water directly at his back. “Gotcha!” Noah crows as Noel doubles over, breathless but beaming. “Daddy, stop!” Noel gasps between giggles, his soaked shirt clinging to him. Noah freezes at the word, his heart skipping a beat. Daddy. Noel has called him that a few times before, but never so naturally, so casually. Shaking the thought away, he crouches down to meet Noel’s gaze, brushing wet curls out of the boy’s face. “You’re all wet,” he teases, earning a pout from Noel. “So are you!” Noel p
The silence stretches between Sienna and Ivana, charged and suffocating. Sienna tries to piece together the fragments of what she just heard, her heart pounding so violently it feels like her ribs might splinter. Ivana stands nearby, her expression unreadable, as if waiting for Sienna to process the bombshell she just dropped. “Noah loves me,” Sienna finally stammers, her voice shaking. She looks up at Ivana, desperate to find some crack in her claim. “You’re lying. He wouldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this.” Ivana exhales softly, almost like she expected this reaction. “I wish I were lying,” she says, her tone low and steady. “But I’m not. I came here because you deserve the truth.” “No,” Sienna whispers, shaking her head as if denying it hard enough will make it untrue. “Noah wouldn’t… Noah loves me.” Her voice grows louder, almost frantic. “He wouldn’t hurt me like this.” Ivana steps closer, her expression somewhere between sympathy and resignation. “You’re right. He does
Sienna arrives at the café before Ethan, sitting in the farthest corner away from the hum of conversation. Her mind races in jagged, uncontrollable loops, every new thought hitting her like a wrecking ball. She hasn’t stopped crying since leaving the house, her face streaked with tears and her chest tight with agony. She’s barely holding herself together, and it feels like the world is caving in on her. Fifteen minutes later, Ethan walks in. He spots her immediately, a crumpled figure tucked into the shadows, her head buried in her hands. His stomach sinks as he approaches. He’s seen Sienna emotional before, but never like this. “Sienna,” he calls softly, kneeling beside her chair. “Hey, I’m here.” Her head snaps up, her face blotchy, her eyes swollen. She looks at him with such raw anguish that he feels a pang of guilt. She doesn’t even try to mask her pain. “You knew.” Her voice cracks as she glares at him. “You knew, Ethan, and you didn’t tell me.” He lets out a slow brea
The world becomes chaos as Sienna collapses in Ethan’s arms, blood staining his shirt, his hands, and even the floor beneath them. He’s shouting, his voice hoarse and frantic. “Help! Someone help her!” But the people around them are frozen in a different kind of urgency—not one to save her, but one to capture the moment. Phones are pulled out, and the clicks of cameras punctuate the air like bullets. Ethan’s rage boils over. “What the hell are you all doing? Stop taking pictures and call for help!” His words are swallowed by murmurs and whispers, a crowd that feeds on the spectacle. The flashes continue, and someone even dares to live-stream the scene. “911,” Ethan mutters to himself, fumbling for his phone with trembling hands. Blood smears the screen as he dials, his voice cracking when the operator answers. “There’s a woman—she’s bleeding out! She’s pregnant! We’re at the corner of Fifth and Maple! Send someone now!” He drops the phone into his pocket and turns back to Sienna
The King's estate is alive with music and laughter. Fairy lights dangle like tiny stars from every tree in the sprawling backyard. A small crowd has gathered to celebrate the arrival of Noah and Sienna's twins. The theme is unmistakable—soft blues for their son and delicate pinks for their daughter. Silk ribbons in both colors wrap around the columns of the grand patio, and tables are adorned with matching floral arrangements—roses, peonies, and hydrangeas carefully placed in crystal vases. A lavish archway stands at the center of the yard, crafted from intertwined blue and pink roses, where the naming ceremony is about to take place. Everything is perfect, elegant, yet deeply personal—just the way Noah insisted it should be. Sienna sits on a white chair beneath the arch, holding her twins, one in each arm. She’s radiant despite the exhaustion that comes with being a new mother. Her figure, still recovering, is wrapped in a simple but stunning dress of soft cream silk. Her bobbed
Seven months later, Sienna is standing on the brink of what feels like an emotional cliff, one that’s littered with equal parts joy and sheer panic. She’s not exactly sure how she’s made it this far, but somehow, she’s here—carrying twins, something that still doesn’t quite feel real. Despite the overwhelming support from Noah, his mother, and all the other people around her, there’s something deeply personal about these moments. They’re hers, and hers alone. But today, she’s about to share this experience with Noah in a way she never expected. Mrs. King had been a frequent visitor, popping by to help Sienna with anything and everything. From checking on her health to making sure she was eating properly, Mrs. King always knew how to show up and make Sienna feel cared for. It was more than just maternal instinct—it was love, pure and simple. Everyone showed her love and support, and Sienna was starting to feel more like a mother than she ever thought she could be. But today—today was
Sienna wakes up to the gentle caress of dawn’s light peeking through the curtains, her body swaddled in the luxurious silk sheets that seem to whisper sweet nothings to her skin. As she stretches, the soft fabric rustles, releasing the faint scent of Noah’s cologne, which lingers on the pillows beside her like a gentle reminder of his presence.She lies there for a moment, savoring the peaceful atmosphere, her mind wrapped in the serenity of the morning.But as the minutes tick by, the weight of her responsibilities begins to creep into her consciousness, gently tugging at her mind like a persistent whisper. With a soft sigh, Sienna kicks off the covers and swings her legs over the side of the bed, her feet dangling in the air as she sits up.The bathroom beckons, and she rises from the bed, padding softly across the floor. As she passes by the mirror, she catches a glimpse of herself, her bobbed hair mussed from sleep, her eyes still heavy with the remnants of slumber.Noah had alrea
Ibiza had been a place of healing and renewal for Sienna and Noah, where they deepened their love and rediscovered each other. It was there that Noah proposed to Sienna once more, this time determined to give her the proper wedding they both deserved. Without hesitation, she said yes. Mrs. King had been overjoyed when they shared the news, eagerly announcing that she would invite all her favorite people to celebrate. And now, here they were, bringing that dream to life in Washington, D.C.Sienna couldn’t quite keep her hands steady as Mrs. King led her down the aisle. The older woman’s touch was warm, her arm a steadying anchor against the whirlwind of emotions crashing inside her. Mrs. King had offered to walk her without hesitation, and though Sienna had been reluctant at first, now she was grateful. With every step, she felt the weight of the moment settles in, the sheer magnitude of what lay ahead. The aisle stretched endlessly, a glistening path of white framed by cascading f
Sienna stands in front of the mirror, running her hands over the fabric of her black gown, a simple piece, knee-length, hugging her curves just enough to make her feel... seen. Not in the way she used to, when the world felt distant, but in a way that feels like she's finally back. She can almost feel herself, the woman she once was before all the chaos and the pain. She’s still her, but somehow more whole.She pulls her hair back into a ponytail, smoothing down any stray strands, and as she catches her reflection, she can’t help but smile. It’s a quiet smile, almost foreign, but it feels right. She’s not broken anymore. She’s healing, piece by piece. She’s getting closer to the woman she wants to be, and maybe, just maybe, she’s starting to accept that she deserves to feel it.The door creaks open behind her, and she doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is. She feels his presence the second he enters. It’s like the room shifts, the air thickening with his energy, his magnetism.
The jet lands smoothly on the private runway, the scent of saltwater faint in the air as the engines wind down. Sienna steps into the aisle, stretching and shaking off the remnants of her nap. Her bare feet are cold against the polished floor, but her focus is on Noah, who stands ahead, adjusting the sleeves of his clothes. He glances back, offering her his hand. “Ready?” he asks, his voice low, steady. “For Ibiza? Always,” she replies, slipping her hand into his as they descend the steps. But as they approach the tarmac, her steps falter. Standing at the base of the stairs, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers and white roses, is a woman whose presence Sienna never imagined seeing here—Noah’s mother. Sienna’s smile freezes, her expression a polite mask even as her stomach knots. Leaning toward Noah, she whispers, “What’s your mother doing here?” The words come out light, almost playful, but there’s no hiding the tension in her voice. “She’s here to meet us,” Noah repli
Sunlight spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their bedroom, golden and warm, bathing the space in a serene glow. Noah King stretches lazily, the sheets pooling around his hips as his toned body catches the morning light. Sienna, lying on her side, watches him, her lips twitching into a grin. Even after a week of marriage, her attraction to him hasn’t dulled; it’s only grown sharper. “What will we do today?” she asks, her voice soft but curious, as though the day holds endless possibilities. Noah turns to face her, a sly smile curving his lips. “That depends. Are you planning to wake me up the same way tomorrow?” She laughs, her cheeks heating at the memory of this morning’s intimate wake-up call. “Maybe.” His golden eyes gleam mischievously as he swings his legs out of bed, pulling on a pair of well-worn jeans. The domestic ease of the moment makes Sienna’s chest ache in the best way. “We should pack,” he announces, fastening the button on his jeans. “Pack?” She
“Oh, my world, YES!” Sienna screams, coming before he’s halfway in. “Noah!” The fullness sends her over the brink. “Uhn! Feel you!” He shoves home, ripping another scream from her. And again. “You would’ve stolen my cum, just like that.” She writhes in her bonds as her orgasm consumes her, numbing her mind. . . . Once she finally falls limp, he bites out, “More?” His muscles quake against her. How badly he must need to come! “Yes!” she gasps. “I will always give you more.” He draws back his hips and grips her around the waist, widening his stance. He’s readying. She fidgets in her bindings. He looks like he’s about to ravage her, and there’s nothing she can do but take it. “Um, Noah—” He yanks her back along his cock while his body rams forward. He yells; she moans from the impact. His position, her position . . . she feels like a sexual plaything. "Maybe I have been missing out on so much," she thinks because the idea puts her right back on the brink. “Your body nee
Noah leads her further into the bedroom and pulls a remote control from his jeans pocket. With the press of a button, all the windows turn to mirrors. “It’s a type of smart glass,” he explains. “For full privacy when we have guests.” Sienna's mouth drops open, surprise etched on her face. "How did this get here?""I've always had this room waiting," Noah reveals, "waiting for the right time for us to explore it together. Sadly, you left before that could happen."Fascination and anxiousness swirl in her eyes. She's captivated by the mystery of this secret space. How did he envision such a place? What purpose did he intend it to serve? She tilts her head in admiration. “You do think of everything.” “It gets better.” He pushes another button, and the mirrors shift to screens, displaying the bed from multiple angles—even from above. “There are cameras in the bedroom?” she asks, her voice catching with a mix of shock and excitement. Sienna's gaze narrows, her mind racing. "You sa