LOGINMadeline is the black sheep of the family. Her father hated her since the day she was born because the day she was born, her mother died. Her father is to call her a murderer. Her biggest dream was to become the best chef in town, and when she went to culinary school, she returned with the hope of being a chef in her father's restaurant. However, her father made her marry her high school crush. The marriage did not last six months when his first love returned. Kicked out of the house with nowhere to go. She went to her father's house, but he kicked her out, making her sleep in her car that night. Little did she know that her fortunes would change the next day. Her grandfather gave her inheritance. Enough to start her restaurant. However, she went up at night and celebrated with her friend. She hooked up with one of her brothers and her ex-husband's friend. And he did not know that she was already divorced. They were both drunk and had sex. But he told her he is furious with her for sleeping with him while married to his friend. He told her never to contact him again, and she never did, although she walked out of that relationship with a package. Now, seven years later, she is returning home. her family and ex-in-laws' biggest enemy in the restaurant business, and she is her to take revenge! She is here to bankrupt them and tell them GAME OVER!
View MoreMadeline’s POVThe house is quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that feels like a gentle sigh, like the world itself has paused to watch us breathe, to watch us exist without interruption. I sit in the living room, Martin asleep in his little crib just a few feet away, Meredith curled against my shoulder, soft warmth pressing into me as I cradle her like she is the only thing in the world that matters. Logan leans back in the armchair across from me, his fingers intertwined behind his head, his eyes observing the subtle glow of the room as if he is reading its every nuance, the way he reads people, the way he reads me.There is a softness in the air that I have never allowed myself to feel before. Not in the way that fear or tension or threat might intrude upon us. The city outside hums faintly in the distance, a low vibration that reminds us the world still exists, still churns with ambition and danger, but here, in this home, there is nothing but us.I trace Meredith’s tiny fingers wit
Madeline’s POVThe morning sun sneaks through the edges of the curtains, painting golden streaks across the nursery walls, and for a brief moment, I let myself breathe, let myself absorb the peace that has finally settled over our home. The air smells faintly of baby powder and warmth, of laundry just folded and milk freshly steamed, and I know that these moments are fleeting, as fragile as the sound of my children’s laughter echoing down the hall, but I cling to them anyway, because they are the proof that life continues, that our family has survived, that Logan and I have survived.I glance down at Meredith and Martin, their tiny hands clutching at my fingers, their eyelids fluttering as sleep drifts over them once more, and I marvel at the strength it takes to nurture life this small, to keep it safe and thriving in a world that has always been harsh, unforgiving, and at times cruel. I have fought men who thought they could crush me with a look, who believed that fear and intimidat
Madeline’s POVStrength, I have learned, is not always loud, and it does not always announce itself with blood or gunfire or fear in the eyes of those who underestimate you, because sometimes strength is measured in the way you rise from bed after barely sleeping, in the way you steady your breath when your body aches and your heart is pulled in too many directions at once, and in the way you continue to lead even when the world assumes you are too soft, too maternal, too distracted to remain dangerous.I wake before the babies cry, before the house fully stirs, because my body has learned a new rhythm, one shaped by feeding schedules and instinct rather than clocks, and for a moment I lie still, listening to the quiet around me, letting myself feel the weight of the life we are living now. Logan is already gone from the bed, and I am not surprised, because he has always been restless in the early hours, especially now that peace has replaced danger, because peace requires him to conf
Logan’s POVNight comes differently now, not as a welcome silence or a chance to finally lower my guard, but as a drawn-out negotiation between exhaustion and responsibility, because darkness no longer means rest when there are babies who do not care what time it is and children whose emotions surface the moment the house grows quiet enough for thoughts to echo. I sit on the edge of the bed long after Madeline has settled Meredith back into her crib, listening to the soft, uneven breathing of the house, the faint hum of the baby monitor, the distant creak of pipes cooling in the walls, and I realize that for the first time in my life, I am afraid of failing in ways that cannot be fixed with force.Madeline moves beside me, slower than she used to, careful without being fragile, and when she leans against the headboard with a quiet sigh, I can tell how deeply the day has settled into her bones, how the weight of motherhood has multiplied rather than divided now that four children depen
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