All Chapters of Traded For His First Love : Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

Elliot POVThe entrance hall of the mansion felt too small to contain the storm of emotions engulfing me, a vast space of marble and chandeliers that now seemed suffocating. Reese was on her knees in the doorway, Sammy and Avie clinging to her as if afraid she’d vanish. “Mommy, you came!” Sammy kept repeating, his voice choked, tears streaming down his face as he hugged his mother with a strength that seemed bigger than his eight-year-old frame. Avie, her little arms wrapped tightly around Reese’s neck, sobbed, “Mama, I missed you so much,” her high-pitched voice cutting through the air like a bell. My heart ached, a physical pain that made every breath an effort, as if an invisible hand were squeezing my chest. I wanted to be firm, to hold onto the anger that drove me to flee Chicago with the kids, the anger over Reese’s lies—about Avie’s paternity, about the secret lawsuit to take Sammy from me. But seeing them together, seeing the unconditional love in my children’s eyes, made s

Reese POVThe sound of the television in the children’s room—a cartoon filled with laughter and music that Sammy and Avie loved—was a small oasis amidst the tension pulsing through the Goodwin mansion. I left them on the bed, Sammy clutching the remote with a triumphant little grin, Avie hugging a pillow, her messy curls falling over her face. “Stay here, okay? Mommy will be right back,” I murmured, kissing both their foreheads. Avie, with her sweet little voice, said, “Okay, Mama!” but quickly added, almost as an echo, “Venus come back soon!” I smiled, despite the weight in my chest. Avie, at three years old, sometimes called me “Venus,” mimicking Sammy or Alice, who used my Chicago nickname. It was confusing but so quintessentially her—a mix of affection and innocence that made me love her even more.I closed the door partway, my heart tightening at leaving them, even for a few minutes. Elliot was waiting in the hallway, and each step toward him felt like walking on glass, the pa

Reese POVThe dining room of the Goodwin mansion was filled with soft sounds—the clink of cutlery, the murmur of Sammy and Avie chatting about muffins, the aroma of coffee and fresh bread lingering in the air. I held a mug, its warmth against my hands a contrast to the cold I felt inside, still dressed in the old clothes Elliot had kept, clothes that made me feel as if I’d stepped back in time to a life I fought so hard to leave behind. Sammy was beside me, biting into a muffin, while Avie, in my lap, played with a strawberry, giggling when the juice stained her little fingers. Despite the tension pulsing at the table—with Jennifer casting venomous glares and Elliot staring at me with an intensity that disarmed me—the kids seemed, somehow, at ease. Except for the way Sammy kept his eyes fixed on his plate whenever Jennifer spoke, clearly uncomfortable with her presence.Florence, seated at the other end of the table, surprised me with her almost warm demeanor, serving more scrambled

Reese POVThe twilight began to paint the London sky with shades of orange and gray, the soft light filtering through the tall windows of the Goodwin mansion, casting long shadows across the polished wooden corridors. I was in the guest room with Sammy and Avie, sitting on the edge of the bed, watching them play on the rug with a set of wooden blocks Elliot had retrieved from the attic. Sammy was building a tower, his tongue sticking out in concentration, while Avie stacked the blocks in a chaotic pattern, laughing each time the pile collapsed. “Mommy, look! It’s a castle!” Sammy exclaimed, pointing to his wobbly structure, and I smiled, my heart warmed by the simplicity of the moment. But even with the children’s laughter filling the room, the tension wouldn’t leave me. The legal battle for custody of Sammy and Avie was looming, and every day in this mansion—with Jennifer scheming in the city, Florence acting suspiciously friendly, and Elliot looking at me with a love I didn’t want

Elliot POVThe fireplace room in the Goodwin mansion was enveloped in a cozy dimness, the flickering light of the flames dancing on the stone walls, casting shadows that seemed to mirror the weight of my thoughts. The scent of burning wood mingled with the rich aroma of the red wine swirling in the glass in my hand, a Bordeaux I’d chosen from the cellar in the vain hope that a drink could calm the storm within me. Josh Carter sat in the leather armchair across from me, his light hair tousled, his clear eyes gleaming with a mix of forced humor and melancholy. He held his own glass, gesturing as he told his story, his voice wavering between laughter and a tone that betrayed his true anguish.“So, Bethany really did it,” Josh said, taking a sip of wine, his crooked smile not reaching his eyes. “The pregnancy reveal was the final blow. She’s got me locked into this engagement, and now the wedding date’s set. In a few weeks, I’m a married man.” He laughed, but the sound was hollow, as if