All Chapters of A Twist of Fate with the Callous Billionaire : Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

—Sophia’s POVSometimes, I forget we were ever broken.Not because the pain disappeared.But because now... there’s so much quiet joy in the tiny, boring moments that it rewrites everything. Fills the cracks.Like last night’s toast. Burnt again.Or Irene yelling, "TOILET EMERGENCY," like he was reporting to NASA.Or the way Ethan hums off-key while folding laundry, like he’s soundtracking his own life.It’s all ordinary. And sacred. And stupidly beautiful.I woke up to sunlight slanting across the wall, Ethan snoring softly beside me, and Irene’s foot wedged into my rib like a very aggressive bookmark.I didn’t move. Just lay there, blinking at the ceiling, thinking... this is what I used to dream about.Not the chaos. Not the burned bread. Not the child who drools on my pillow every other night.Just the feeling.Of being wanted. Of being safe.Of waking up in love and not worrying if it’ll vanish by morning.I slipped out of bed.Tiptoed to the kitchen.Started the kettle.Coffee.

—Ethan’s POVI woke up before the riding of the sun, before the birds started to sing. I didn't do that intentionally. One of those weird half-dreams pulled me outta sleep. I couldn’t remember it, I just had the feeling.Like I was late to something. Or forgot something important. My heart was already racing before I even opened my eyes.Sophia was curled on her side, facing me. Her hair was all over the place. Her mouth was slightly open, and she was breathing even.I watched her for a second, two, three... till I couldn't count how long I had been staring at her. Weird how your whole world can be right there on a pillow.Irene was sideways between us. Per usual. One arm flung across my neck, his foot against Sophia's hip like he was playing Twister in his sleep.This kid.I love him so much though. I gently moved his arm. Then I pushed my self out of the bed like I was sneaking from a crime scene.As always my coffee first, I so much love coffee, especially the type Sophia made

—Ethan’s POVThe thing about mornings is... you never know what kind of one you’re waking into.It could be so easy. could be smooth too. Eggs-don’t-burn kinda day.Or... it sneaks in slow. With weight. Quiet kind. Not loud, but loud in your chest.Today? Somewhere in-between.I woke to the sound of Irene talking in his sleep. Something about dragons and marshmallows.Sophia had already slipped out of bed. Her side cold. Not long gone, but not new either.I found her in the living room. She was rapped in a blanket. Her knees hugged close. That look on her face like she was somewhere else entirely."You okay?"She blinked. Looked up. "Yeah. Just… thinking."I sat beside her. Very close enough that our shoulders touched. Not saying much.The TV was on mute. Static light flickering across her face. She hadn't noticed. Or maybe she liked it that way."Do you care for some Coffee?" I asked.She nodded, slow. Didn't speak.I went to the kitchen.I filled the kettle. Grabbed her mug. The chi

—Sophia’s POVI didn’t realize how cold my hands were until Ethan covered them with his. His palms were warm. Steady. I hadn’t touched him like this in a while, without a wall, without a fight, without pain hanging like smoke between us.His thumb brushed against the side of my wrist, and I felt my chest tighten.“I still remember the sound you made,” he said, voice quiet, “when you first heard his heartbeat. It echoed inside me for weeks.”I bit my lip, holding back the wave rushing up my throat. “I thought I lost that sound. I thought I lost everything.”He squeezed my hand gently. “You didn’t. We didn’t.”Irene stirred lightly in his sleep beside us, his small body cocooned between two people trying to unlearn years of ache.I turned to Ethan slowly. “He’s so perfect, it scares me. Like… like life’s trying to make up for the hell we both went through.”Ethan's eyes dropped to our son. “Maybe it is. Or maybe he’s the part of us that never stopped believing, even when we did.”My he

— Ethan’s POVThe sky muffled itself in gray again. Not the sweeping storm of last night, but a heavy stillness, like the air couldn’t decide whether to bend or break.I sat on the porch steps, beer long gone warm. Rain tapped the gutter above. Droplets lingered at the edge, poised to fall. You could sort of hear them think before they dropped.There’s a strange comfort in that.I glanced at the window, Sophia’s silhouette inside framed by golden light. She was folding laundry. Simple socks and shirts. But every motion she made was precise, careful, like art.Inside, Irene banged his toy drum again, practicing for a concert he’ll hold at dinner.That small chaos felt sacred.I took off my boots. Wiggle toes in the damp wood. There was something calming about ground you could feel.The screen door squeaked.She slid outside. Blanket around her shoulders. Eyes clear like glass after rainfall.“Cold?”“A little.”She leaned into me. Blanket pattered to the wood.I watched the horizon t