Freya’s POVMorning arrived slower than I had hoped. The sunlight streaming through my apartment window felt too warm, too real—reminding me that last night wasn’t just a dream.A night so long, I lost count of how many times I came.Every ounce of longing, frustration, and emotion had melted between us as we made love—desperately, wildly, relentlessly.I opened my eyes, and the first thing I saw was Alaric’s chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I was still curled up against him, my body tangled with his on this too-small couch. My breath was slow as I stared at his face—so much softer in sleep. No tension in his jaw. No sharpness in his gaze. Alaric looked like an entirely different man when he slept.I inhaled deeply, letting his scent fill my lungs: warm, a little musky, comforting.I bit my lip. Since when did Alaric start feeling like home?I shifted slightly, trying to sit up, but his arm around my waist only tightened. Without even opening his eyes, he mumbled, voice d
Freya’s POVI never thought Alaric could be this… obedient.In fact, I never imagined he would listen to anyone—especially me. But this morning, he was standing outside my apartment, casually leaning against his sleek black car, dressed in a laid-back yet impossibly polished outfit that seemed custom-made to highlight his broad, muscular frame.His jacket hung over one shoulder, and the dark gray shirt clung perfectly to his chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the veins running along his forearms—strong, effortless, dangerous.He always looked like someone who had just stepped out of a business magazine—except with an edge that made him so much more lethal.When I opened the door, he met my gaze with a calm expression. There was no urgency in his stance, no impatience—just quiet confidence, like he already had complete control over whatever was about to happen today.“We have a long list to get through,” he said smoothly, skipping over any kind of greeting.I bli
Freya’s POV“What do you need?” Alaric asked as he pulled a shopping cart along, his voice deep and neutral, as if this was just another ordinary thing for us.I glanced at the list on my phone. “Chicken, vegetables, fruit, milk, bread, rice, bathroom essentials, and tissues.”He gave a single nod before pushing the cart forward, maneuvering through the brightly lit supermarket aisles.I walked beside him, picking out items one by one, trying to focus on the list instead of how surreal this situation felt.We looked like a couple—effortlessly used to grocery shopping together. It felt… too domestic. Too intimate for something that should have been so mundane.Every time I added something to the cart, he remained silent. No objections, no complaints. Even when I grabbed a tub of salted caramel ice cream, something much too sweet for most men’s taste—he didn’t say a word.I shot him a suspicious glance. “You’re not going to say anything?”He shrugged, his expression calm. “Why would I?”
Freya’s POVThe cold night air pierced through, creeping across my skin with an inescapable chill. I had just left the café where I worked, my steps light despite the weight of the apron I had removed, still hanging over my shoulder.I draped it over my arm, not caring how tired my body felt after a long shift.The sky was dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of streetlights and the occasional rush of a passing car. I took my phone from my pocket, it was time to call Alaric and let him know I was on my way home.But before I could dial, the sound of shoes scraping against the pavement behind me made my skin crawl. I spun around quickly, scanning the darkness behind me. There was no one in sight. But my instincts weren’t wrong. Something was off.Carefully, I quickened my pace, trying to hide the tension creeping up my chest. The cold night air bit at my skin, my breath misting in the thickening air.Just a few steps into the narrow alley behind the café, a coarse cloth wrapped ar
Alaric's POVThe pistol in my hand felt cold, its metal almost fusing with my skin, becoming an extension of the rage burning in my chest. My breath was heavy, not from fear, but from the hatred that consumed my mind. That bastard had taken her from me.I should be by her side tonight, not standing here in front of this rundown club, ready to wipe out every bastard who dares to stand in my way.“Ready?”Uncle Damian’s voice sliced through the tension in the air. He stood beside me, his face as sharp as his blade. His weapon was neatly tucked away behind his black suit, his finger already on the trigger. There was no emotion in his eyes, just the professionalism of a man who had seen death one too many times.I nodded without a word.Uncle Damian snorted, cocking his pistol with a relaxed motion that betrayed the danger. “Don’t die, kid. I would rather not explain to Caspian if you end up dead like a loser.”I didn’t respond. Likewise, I wasn't concerned about the Caspian—I never care
Alaric's POVI woke up feeling unusually heavy, as if gravity was pressing down harder than usual. The dim light from the window slipped into the room, casting soft shadows along the walls of my apartment.Freya was still asleep beside me, her breathing slow and steady. My bare arm remained draped around her waist, my fingers resting against the warmth of her skin beneath the oversized shirt she was wearing. Her hair was a mess, strands falling over her face, but I could still see the faint bruise on her cheek, the small cut at the corner of her lips.I closed my eyes, remembering how she had fought Vince with everything she had, despite the pain, despite the injuries.I should have acted more quickly. Likewise, I should have reached out to her before she had to endure that experience again.A soft sigh broke the silence.When I opened my eyes, I found Freya watching me, her gaze still hazy with sleep.“You’re staring,” she murmured, her voice hoarse but laced with a small smile.I b
Alaric’s POVI kicked open the door to my apartment, letting it slam shut with a force that echoed through the quiet space. My breathing was heavy, my chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. Rage boiled beneath my skin, tangled with something I would rather not name.More than anything, I was angry at myself.Fingers gripping my hair, I tugged in frustration. I would rather not care. Didn’t want to feel anything. I had made my choice—to walk away from the Verity name, from the bloodline that had felt more like a noose around my neck than a legacy.So why did it still feel like something was holding me back, keeping me trapped in the shadow of that name?I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelf, pouring a generous amount into a glass without bothering to measure. The liquid burned down my throat, but it wasn’t enough—not enough to drown out the weight pressing on my chest.My father’s voice echoed in my head. “I’m proud of you, Alaric.”Words I had once craved. Now, they felt
Alaric’s POVThis morning felt surreal—quiet, yet heavy with unspoken tension.Freya sat at the kitchen table, her fingers curled around a cup of coffee, though she wasn’t actually drinking it. Her gaze was distant, lost in the view outside the window, as if searching for something she couldn’t quite grasp.The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows over her face. Her hair was still slightly messy, and my oversized t-shirt draped over her small frame, making her look even more delicate—like she belonged here, like she was always meant to be part of this space.I allowed myself to admire the sight for longer than I should have.But something about her posture unsettled me—the way she was so still, the way she blinked without really focusing.Leaning against the doorframe, I slipped my hands into my pockets. “Freya.”She turned slowly, as if just realizing I was there. “What?”I stepped forward, pulled out the chair across from her, and sat down. My eye
Alaric's POVI never thought this moment would come so soon.Three years ago, I watched Freya fill out her university application form with trembling hands, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear.I remember the long nights she spent with books scattered across the table, working on essays and projects with unwavering determination.And now, here I stand in the grand hall of New York University, dressed in a crisp black suit, watching her name appear on the big screen as the valedictorian.Freya Verity, Bachelor of Communication—Top Graduate of the Year.I look up at the stage where she stands, clad in a black graduation gown and a gold sash signifying her achievements. The spotlight casts a soft glow on her face, and for a brief moment, time seems to stop.She did it.She made it.And I have never felt prouder in my entire life.Beside me, Hero sits in his small chair, wearing the miniature suit Freya picked out for him, complete with a slightly crooked bow tie. He tries to sit
Alaric's POVI never imagined my life would turn out like this.I used to think I would always be the kind of man who only knew how to survive—content with cooking in a small restaurant kitchen, satisfied with a modest paycheck, and avoiding anything remotely connected to the Verity name. Furthermore, I thought I would remain the man who rejected his past, carving out his own path without ever looking back.But three years later, my life had thoroughly changed.Now, I stood in the penthouse suite of Verity Hotel, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up, my tie discarded hours ago. The city lights of New York shimmered beyond the massive windows, casting a golden glow into the room.On the sofa, a small two-year-old boy slept soundly, his tiny arms wrapped around a stuffed bear. His breathing was soft, his face peaceful, as if the world around him wasn’t full of chaos.Hero Verity. My son.I still remembered when Freya chose that name. “Because he's our hero, Alaric. H
Freya's POVI had never felt happiness quite as terrifying as this before.There was still a part of me trying to process all the changes happening so fast—going back to college, finding a new rhythm in life, and now carrying another life inside me.But if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I wasn’t doing any of it alone.I watched Alaric from across the room as he stood in the kitchen, his back straight as he cooked over the stove. The scent of eggs and toast filled the air, wrapping the space in a warmth that was oddly comforting.Leaning against the doorway, I crossed my arms and observed him.Who would’ve thought that the same man who once lived in darkness could look so at home in a kitchen like this?“I still can’t believe you’re actually making me breakfast,” I finally said, breaking the morning silence.Alaric glanced over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m not letting you skip breakfast again. Especially now, since you’re eating for two.”I pouted.
Freya's POVI’ve realized something over the past few days.Love alone isn’t enough.Love is the foundation, but what keeps it standing is commitment—the courage to choose each other every single day, through the good and the bad.And now, I’m at a point where I need to make sure that Alaric and I aren’t just in love, but that we’re also moving in the same direction.I sat on the couch, holding the ultrasound results we’d just gotten yesterday. Our baby. Still so tiny, but its presence was real. Its existence changed everything—not just for me, but for Alaric too.I heard the sound of the door opening, followed by familiar footsteps. Alaric had just returned from a meeting with his father. He’d mentioned it was about the inheritance he was set to receive.As soon as he saw me, he walked over, kissed the top of my head, and then dropped onto the couch beside me.“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice soft.I turned to him, offering a small smile. “A little nauseous this morning, bu
Freya’s POVI sat at the edge of the bed, one hand resting on my stomach. My fingers traced over the still-flat surface of my skin, as if trying to grasp the reality of what I had just learned.I was pregnant with Alaric’s child.I repeated it in my head, trying to let the words sink in. This was real. It wasn’t just a possibility or a joke from a faulty test.The doctor had confirmed it—I was carrying Alaric’s baby. And somehow, ever since that moment, the world felt like it was moving in slow motion.I lifted my head, my gaze falling on Alaric, who stood by the bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest. He was watching me with an unreadable expression—a mixture of awe, relief, and something deeper that I couldn’t quite define.“Are you still in shock?” His voice was low, almost gentle.I let out a breath and nodded slowly. “Of course. I just found out a few hours ago that there’s a tiny human growing inside me.”A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he stepped closer and
Alaric's POVI’ve faced a lot in my life.Life in prison, betrayal, losing people I considered family. Even surviving the criminal underworld that nearly swallowed me whole.I’ve been on the brink of destruction, standing between life and death more times than I can count.But none of that could have prepared me for what I just heard.“Congratulations, Mr. Verity. Your partner is pregnant. She’s about eight weeks along.”I froze in place like an idiot.The doctor’s voice echoed in the room, but my brain seemed to stop functioning. I stared at the blood test results in my hand. The numbers should have made sense, but right now, they just felt like a jumble of meaningless symbols.I had to lean on the desk because, for the first time in my life, my knees almost gave out.Freya… pregnant?I took a deep breath, trying to regain my focus. “Are you sure?” My voice came out hoarser than I expected.The doctor smiled, unfazed by my reaction. “We ran the test twice to confirm. All signs point
Freya's POVI’ve always loved the atmosphere of classes at NYU. The lecture halls are spacious, modern, and filled with students who are just as passionate as I am.Professor Callahan, who teaches Media, Culture, and Society, is the kind of academic who’s both brilliant and insightful. His voice is confident as he explains how media shapes social perceptions. Popular culture isn’t just entertainment—it’s a social phenomenon with a profound impact on everyday life.I listened intently, jotting down key points in my notebook. But today felt different.Since this morning, my body had been feeling a little off.I woke up with an uncomfortable sensation in my stomach. It wasn’t exactly pain, but more like waves of nausea that came and went.At first, I thought it was just the usual nervousness I feel before heading to class. I’m the type of person who’s always excited, and sporadically that excitement turns into a bit of anxiety.But this time was different.I swallowed hard, trying to ign
Freya’s POVI stood on the balcony of our apartment, letting the cool night breeze brush against my skin. Below me, New York pulsed with life—city lights scattered like stars, distant honks and the faint hum of the city still audible despite the late hour.Leaning against the railing, I hugged myself and gazed at the skyline.I should be in bed, but my mind was too restless.Today, I had finalized all my administrative paperwork for college. I had my class schedule, my student ID, and had even spent the last few hours reading through reference materials for my first course.I should be proud of myself. But there was an unsettling feeling in my chest: a quiet anxiety I couldn’t fully understand.The sound of the sliding door opening behind me pulled me from my thoughts, followed by familiar footsteps. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was Alaric.He didn’t say anything, just stood beside me, resting his hands on the railing, his sharp green eyes focused on the city.I glanced at
Freya’s POVI stared at my reflection in the mirror, letting out a slow, deep breath.This morning, I wore a peach blouse, paired with loose white pants that draped comfortably around my legs. On my feet were white flats adorned with delicate floral accents— a gift from Alaric. I completed the look with a cross-body bag filled with books and pens.Today marked the beginning of something new.I had officially enrolled at New York University (NYU), choosing to major in Communication Studies with a Bachelor of Science in Media, Culture.I was rebuilding my life, choosing not just to be someone who had survived her past but someone who was actively shaping her own future.Alaric had never tried to change me. Instead, he always made sure I had the freedom to be myself.I checked my natural-looking makeup, ran my fingers through my shoulder-length hair to fix it, and then stepped out of the bedroom, finding Alaric already waiting for me.He was standing in the kitchen, pouring himself a cup