Christian’s words left Lea momentarily breathless, her jaw nearly dropping in sheer disbelief. Then, the pieces began to click into place.

She recalled Fleur’s tearful confession from the night before—that Christian had actually proposed.

So that’s why he’s calling them his children...

Even so, Lea couldn’t shake the protective instinct screaming that he was moving far too fast. They weren’t even married, yet here he was, speaking with the effortless authority of a man who already belonged in their lives.

Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and calculating. Fleur rarely spoke of her past, leaving Lea to piece together the shattered fragments on her own.

What little she did know was enough to make her fiercely defensive. She had watched Fleur drown in years of grueling hardship, breaking her own back to build a safe, peaceful sanctuary for herself and the twins.

Lea had survived a toxic, painful marriage of her own. She refused to sit idly by and watch her best friend march right back into the fire.

For a fleeting second, she considered snapping back, correcting him right in front of the kids.

They aren’t your children.

The words burned at the back of her throat, but she forced herself to swallow them down. This wasn’t the time or the place. She would corner Fleur privately later.

"I’ll go check on breakfast," Lea said, her tone clipped as she slipped out of the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Christian turned toward the bathroom. "Gabriel," he called, tapping lightly on the wood. "Time to move it, buddy."

The door swung open, revealing a pouting boy. "Dad," Gabriel groaned with theatrical exhaustion, "you’re even more impatient than Mom."

A soft laugh rumbled in Christian’s chest. "Get dressed first." He handed over the neatly folded clothes.

Meanwhile, the closet curtain rustled, and Chloe stepped into the light, twirling proudly in a pink-and-white floral dress. "How do I look?"

Christian’s expression softened instantly, all his sharp edges melting away. "My princess looks absolutely beautiful."

Chloe beamed, practically radiating joy under his undivided attention. "Thank you, Daddy!"

"Step closer to me, sweetie." Christian dropped to one knee, gently fastening her tiny shoes before smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt. "There. Perfect."

Just then, Gabriel emerged, fully dressed and raring to go. Looking at the boy, Christian felt that familiar, striking jolt of recognition. It was like staring into a mirror that reflected his own childhood.

"Are your school bags packed?"

"They’ve been ready since yesterday!" the twins chimed in unison.

Christian smiled, holding up both hands. "Excellent. High fives before breakfast."

The twins eagerly slapped his palms, their bright, ringing laughter echoing through the room.

"Come on," he urged, ushering them toward the hallway. "Let’s see what Chef Lea has waiting for us."

The rich, sweet aroma of freshly flipped pancakes greeted them the moment they stepped into the kitchen. Lea was busy arranging the table, but she paused as they entered. The sight struck a chord of deep unease within her.

It looked... natural. Terrifyingly natural.

Christian walked between the twins as though he had been doing it for a lifetime. Lea had spent countless chaotic mornings helping Fleur raise these kids. She knew exactly how much syrup Chloe demanded, which fruits Gabriel would subtly slide off his plate, and just how frantic the weekday rush usually was.

Yet today, a strange, effortless rhythm filled the room.

Once they were seated, Christian served the children first. He cut their pancakes into perfect, bite-sized pieces and poured their milk before even pouring his own coffee. Lea watched from the shadows of the kitchen counters.

He wasn’t performing. Every small, domestic gesture flowed from him entirely unprompted.

She desperately prayed it wasn’t a calculated act to worm his way into Fleur’s good graces. Because if he broke those two little hearts after letting them get this close... she wasn’t sure any of them would ever recover.

Noticing Lea standing apart, Christian looked up. "Why don’t you join us?"

Lea offered a polite, distant smile. "Thank you, Mr. Wayne, but I’ll eat later."

In truth, she was waiting for Fleur to wake up. Sharing breakfast with her friend felt like a sacred boundary she needed to keep.

The twins cleared their plates without a single complaint. Christian lingered over his coffee, gently reminding them to finish every drop of their milk before leaving the table.

Gabriel hopped down, hoisting his backpack over his shoulders. "Let’s go say goodbye to Mom."

Chloe eagerly nodded, but before they could take a step, Christian’s hand gently rested on Gabriel’s shoulder. "Not today, kids."

The twins tilted their heads, confused.

"Mom worked incredibly hard yesterday," Christian explained, his voice dropping to a soft, respectful murmur. "Let’s let her sleep a little longer."

The twins exchanged a knowing look and nodded. They knew better than anyone how exhausting their mother’s life was. Every minute of rest was precious.

With their backpacks securely on, Christian escorted them down to the lobby. As they stepped outside, Gabriel’s sharp eyes caught the line of unfamiliar, sleek vehicles idling by the curb. Men in dark suits sat inside, trying—and failing—to look inconspicuous.

Gabriel’s gaze snapped up to Christian’s. The boy understood instantly.

Bodyguards.

Neither said a word out loud. Christian simply leaned down, a conspiracy in his eyes, and whispered, "Our little secret."

He extended a fist. Gabriel grinned, tapping his own knuckle against it. "Deal."

Chloe rolled her eyes dramatically. "You boys are so weird."

The two males completely ignored her. A moment later, the children were safely buckled into the car.

Watching the vehicle pull away toward the school, Christian turned back to the building. Inside the elevator, he pulled out his phone and fired off a quick text to Lucas, instructing him to bring a fresh change of clothes.

Wearing yesterday’s rumpled suit for another hour was testing his patience.

Stepping back into the apartment, a heavy silence hung in the air. The discreet household staff moved like ghosts through the rooms, but Lea was nowhere to be found.

His phone vibrated in his palm.

"Mr. Wayne," Lisa’s crisp voice cut through the line the second he answered. "Are you coming into the office today? The board is waiting—"

"Reschedule everything."

On the other end of the line, Lisa’s fingers froze over her keyboard. "...Everything, sir?"

"Everything. I’ll let you know when I’m available."

Before she could utter another word, the line went dead. Lisa stared at her phone in absolute shock.

In all her years of working for Christian Wayne, the man had never canceled a single day’s schedule. Not for illness, not for emergencies. Never. She couldn’t begin to fathom what kind of crisis had grounded him.

Meanwhile, Christian quietly turned the knob to Fleur’s bedroom and stepped inside. The sight stolen the breath right from his lungs.

She was still deeply asleep, curled beneath a mountain of blankets, the golden morning light tracing the soft, peaceful contours of her face. He stood frozen at the edge of the bed, simply drinking her in.

The business. The endless meetings. The millions of dollars. None of it meant a damn thing right now.

Every primal instinct he possessed urged him to crawl under those sheets, pull her small body against his chest, and shut out the rest of the world for the entire day.

Smiling faintly, he leaned down over her sleeping form. "Wake up, my love," he whispered against her skin.

He pressed gentle, feather-light kisses across her forehead, the curve of her cheek, and her closed eyelids, before finally lingering on her lips.

Still drifting in the fog of sleep, Fleur instinctively recognized the intoxicating warmth of his touch. For a beautiful, fleeting second, she forgot the chaos of reality. She forgot how much their world had fractured.

Then, years of ingrained trauma and survival instinct violently took over.

Her eyes snapped open. Her entire body locked up, bracing for the cold, volatile wrath of the husband she had spent years fearing.

But there was no anger waiting for her.

Instead, she found herself staring into soft, bottomless blue eyes. They held no resentment. No threats. Only a quiet, profound affection.

Christian smiled, his thumb gently tracing her cheekbone to soothe her trembling. Fleur blinked rapidly, her disoriented mind struggling to bridge the gap between her nightmares and the reality before her.

"What..." her voice was a raw, breathless rasp. "What are you doing here?"