–Tyrona–
Eating with them is suffocating.
Every breath feels asured, controlled—as if the air itself is watching .
And yet...
Seeing my son sitting there, happily eating on his own—just like they taught him—made sothing in my chest soften despite myself.
I watched quietly.
Zendaya placed carrots onto her brother’s plate without a word, and he, in return, slid broccoli onto hers. Seamless. Natural. Like they both understood each other’s likes and dislikes without needing to speak.
Efficient. Trained.
Andro and Sky weren’t even blood-related, yet they shared food just the sa. No hesitation. No greed. Just... instinct.
"Daddy," Sky called.
But he wasn’t looking at Damon.
He was looking at Damien.
"Yes, Sky?"
"Pish, peasseee."
Damien reached toward the center dish, carefully selecting a piece of fish. I noticed how precise he was—removing every single bone before placing it neatly on Sky’s plate.
"Ando, pish!" Sky chirped.
Damien did the sa for my son, placing fish onto Andro’s plate with the sa care.
My son doesn’t eat fish.
He never does.
But the mont it touched his plate—
He smiled.
"Thank you!" Andro bead.
"Taykyuuu, Daddy!" Sky added, flashing his tiny teeth.
"You’re both welco," Damien replied calmly.
I watched, silent, as my son took a bite.
And smiled at Sky.
It would take them forever to finish eating like this.
"You need to eat."
Jane’s voice snapped out of it.
I glanced at her. I thought she was just a maid—so why is she sitting here, eating with them like she belongs?
Still, I picked up my utensils.
"I feel like having my dessert," that woman—Damon’s second wife—said as she stood, her fingers trailing flirtatiously over Damon’s shoulder.
Like a trained dog, he stood imdiately and followed her.
"Desserts are over here," Jane called after them as they walked away from the table.
"Tep-Mama!" Sky shouted.
"You eat there, Sky," she replied sweetly.
"It’s honestly disgusting that they do that at the table," Laura muttered under her breath.
Exactly.
Laura would never speak like that to Livana.
So what is this? Acting? A performance?
Or sothing far more calculated?
Sothing about that woman is wrong.
Are they playing with ?
"The al is good," I comnted smoothly, testing the waters.
"Thank you. My husband cooked most of it," Jane replied, her hand casually brushing Logan’s shoulder.
I rolled my eyes internally.
So this is how their family works?
A web of marriages. Alliances. Not all bound by blood—but sothing stronger. Or more dangerous.
After dinner, I helped my son down from his chair, wiping his bib clean.
"You’re doing the dishes, Aly," Damien said.
I glanced at Alyssa. She still hated —for kidnapping her. For everything.
"There’s a dishwasher, Damien. Stop bullying my girl," the boy beside her said casually.
Lore.
Bold. Too bold.
"You do the dishes," Damien shot back, pointing at him without even looking.
Then he turned his attention back to the twins, while Jane lifted Sky from his chair, removing his bib with practiced ease.
Sky lingered beside her, unusually quiet.
Watching.
Always watching.
And I stood there, observing all of it.
Maybe...
Maybe it isn’t so bad that I stayed.
If only to see how they treat my son.
Even if—to them—he’s just a playmate.
–Damon–
I don’t know what ca over my wife—calling away in the middle of dinner.
Dessert?
Yes. I was having mine between her legs.
She moaned softly, her fingers threading into my hair, gripping, guiding—pushing deeper as if she owned every breath I took.
I obliged.
I always do.
I pressed in further, my tongue working with slow precision until her body trembled beneath . A quiet release escaped her—soft, breathless.
Then it was my turn.
I positioned myself, sliding along her slick heat before easing in. She gasped, her hands imdiately finding my waist, grounding herself against .
"Oh... yes," she exhaled. "Damon... be careful, okay?"
"I will."
The thought alone—her possibly carrying my child—tightened sothing deep inside . Protective. Possessive.
I moved carefully. Not deep. Slow. Controlled.
"A little faster... please?" she breathed.
I gave in, adjusting my rhythm to her request, still asured—but firr now.
My hand reached for the vibrating wand, teasing it gently against her. Her back arched instantly, her dark eyes—those black contact lenses—glazed with pleasure.
She was enjoying this.
Enjoying the ga she was playing with Tyrona.
Our lovemaking ended after thirty minutes, leaving her spent beneath .
I cleaned her gently, careful, attentive—like she was sothing fragile. Sothing mine.
"Dada!" Sky called from outside.
Livana quickly fixed her dress while I moved to the door and opened it.
He dashed in, already in his pajamas.
"Mama! Kissy! Kissy!"
He climbed onto the bed and kissed her lips, giggling.
"Good night, baby," she laughed softly.
"I wav you, Mama."
"I love you too."
Sky turned to , pointing proudly.
"I wav you, Dada."
"I love you too." I bent down, kissing his head.
He ran out just as quickly. I watched him disappear into his room before locking the door behind .
Then I turned back to my wife.
"Are you going to tell sothing?" I asked.
"Hmm?" she murmured lazily. "I’m still horny."
I laughed under my breath, shaking my head as I began preparing the bath.
No essential oils. Nothing that could irritate her—if she truly was pregnant.
Just warm water and soft milk bubbles. Safe.
A mont later, she entered—bare, unguarded.
The black lenses were gone.
Only her real eyes remained—those gemstone-like violet irises, haunting and beautiful. Her silver hair cascaded down her back like silk.
My gaze drifted.
Her body. Her curves.
Then her navel.
There it was.
A faint swell.
My chest tightened.
I reached for her hand, pulling her closer as my other hand settled on her waist.
"So... how many weeks?" I asked softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"I don’t know yet."
"That ans no field work, my love."
She wrapped her arms around my waist, and I kissed her lips slowly.
"Shall I call Dr. Green?"
"Hmm..." she pouted. "I’ll have Jane set everything up. To check the baby."
"Alright." I nodded. "I’ll arrange it tomorrow."
My fingers slid through her hair.
I could lock her away again.
And again.
Today alone was enough to remind how fragile this peace was.
Tyrona. Her stepmother. The setup.
The car.
We’ve survived too many accidents. Too many attempts.
I could bury her sowhere no one would ever find.
Hide her so deep the world would forget she exists.
Where no one could touch her.
Look at her.
Hurt her.
"Help with my hair," she murmured.
"Of course, my wife."
I turned on the music—soft, llow love songs filling the room.
"But I can’t help falling in love..." I sang quietly.
She giggled, her fingers brushing against my back.
"You do have a great baritone voice," she said. "But stop... you’re making horny."
I smirked.
We sat in the jacuzzi tub, bubbles surrounding us, water gently vibrating beneath us. I held the showerhead, carefully rinsing her hair, making sure the shampoo washed clean from her scalp.
"Really?" I murmured. "Then I’ll sing for you later."
I smiled to myself.
Just as I wanted—
My wife is pregnant.
Sky will be a big brother.
And this ti...
I hope it’s a girl.
–Alyssa–
Lore and I cleaned the entire kitchen.
Yes—we did that.
Jane and Logan needed a break. And honestly, doing the dishes was easy. There’s a dishwasher, after all. I wiped the table clean while Lore focused on scrubbing the pans after storing the leftovers properly in glassware and placing them back in the fridge.
I smacked Lore’s butt.
He laughed—at first.
But then he stopped when he turned his head.
I followed his gaze.
Caine.
Glowering at us.
"What the fuck was that, Alyssa? Harassing Lore?"
I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, co on. We’re getting married."
"No, you are not."
Lore stayed silent, continuing to scrub the pans like none of this concerned him.
"Well, I can’t help it. He has a firm peach!" I pointed at Lore’s butt.
"Well, he does," Caine agreed casually. "But lady—you need to control those dirty thoughts." He handed a tray. "Wash this."
He then walked to the fridge, grabbed desserts and a few snacks, and left just like that.
Rude.
Once Lore and I finished in the kitchen, we made rounds around the house—checking the security locks, the windows, the doors.
Lore held his Jurassic phone, scanning through the surveillance footage like so overprotective, ridiculously attractive security system.
So of the dogs were already in their kennels—not locked, of course. They just liked resting there. The others were roaming around the mansion, doing their usual patrol.
And Choco?
Upstairs.
Babysitting the kids.
Honestly, more reliable than most adults.
We finally headed to our bedroom. I brushed my teeth thoroughly while Lore stayed glued to his computer.
When I stepped out, I decided to check on the kids.
They were asleep.
Peaceful.
Tyrona, however, was nowhere in sight.
But then—
I froze.
Livana.
She stepped out from the hallway, her hair cascading down, her dress silk—white, long, flowing. She smiled at .
Playful.
But eerie.
I knew exactly what that look ant.
So I followed her.
And just as I expected, she walked straight to Tyrona’s room.
She opened the door quietly.
Tyrona was already on the bed.
Unconscious.
Probably knocked out from the wine.
Then Livana moved.
Fast.
Her hand wrapped around Tyrona’s throat.
Tyrona gagged—
Struggled—
But Livana didn’t tighten enough to kill.
Just enough.
Just enough to steal the breath.
Tyrona’s body went limp, collapsing from lack of air.
And just like that—
Livana released her.
Calm.
Controlled.
She walked out as if nothing happened, closing the door softly behind her.
I followed her.
"She’ll wake up later," Livana said casually, "thinking it was just a dream."
I chuckled.
"You really enjoy doing that, huh?"
"Yes." She smirked, glancing at her hands. "It feels good." Then she added lightly, "But I won’t kill her. Not for Andro’s sake."
I humd softly.
How ironic.
That she ntioned him.
But then again...
Sky and the twins adore Andro.
He’s their playmate.
And no matter how ssy things get between adults—
We don’t break the hearts of children.
They’re the only innocent ones in this whole damn house.
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