All Chapters of Troubled Heart: Chapter 41 - Chapter 45

By the time we pulled up in front of the building on East 83rd, the city had shaken off winter like it never happened. Sure, it was still cold, it’s fucking January, after all, but it’s not like winter in Colorado. It was bright, loud, alive—everything Aspen wasn’t. My doorman greeted us before we even made it through the revolving doors, and I felt Lilac’s hand tighten in mine. She didn’t say anything, but I could read it in how her gaze swept upward, eyes tracing the limestone façade with equal parts awe and apprehension. It was a world away from the cabin, Colorado, and Four Pines. It was also home. Inside the elevator, I leaned into her shoulder and whispered, “Don’t let the marble floors fool you. I still eat instant noodles barefoot in the kitchen.” Lilac laughed softly, nerves unraveling just a little as the elevator ascended. I felt the shift when the doors opened to the penthouse floor. The air up here was still but not sterile. “Okay,” I said, typing in my keycode and s

There’s chaos, and then there’s Frost-family-holiday chaos. And honestly? I loved every second of it. Eduardo Alfonso Nikolaidis, all eleven pounds of one-and-a-half-month-old chubby cheeked cuteness, had already stolen every heart in the room. Clay cradled his son with more care than I think he's ever held anything, while Xenia kept brushing her fingers through his dark curls like she couldn’t believe he was real. Between her and Clay, their son would grow up with the wildest stories, the best genetics, and more love than he’d know what to do with. Reese and Don were wrangling their almost-three-year-old twins—Nik and Leo—who were tag-teaming a mission to dismantle the Frost Christmas tree ornament by ornament. The triplets were trying, and failing, to keep a straight face while scolding their twins, the mischievous duo Saki and Akio, who kept sticking bows on everyone’s backs like walking presents. Hikari was reading peacefully in the corner, while little Ryū, at four, was already

It started with boxes. So many boxes. And tape. And that loud, evil screeching sound the tape makes when Makayla yanks it across a box. I hated it. I barked at it. She didn’t stop. Lilac kept saying things like “fresh start,” “more space,” and “better for the baby.” What baby? I’m the baby! Meanwhile, Makayla grumbled about how the penthouse echo messed with her audio setup. I didn’t understand any of it. The apartment in the sky was our home. My home. The only one I’d ever known in all my two glorious years of life. I had a routine here—a rhythm. I knew which floorboards creaked, which elevator made a weird noise, and which neighbors gave me treats. I also knew exactly where the sun hit the rug every morning, so I could stretch dramatically and ensure everyone noticed. And Central Park? It was right there. Just a few blocks away. Prime walking territory. Squirrel central. I’d marked every important tree, bush, and trash can between our building and there. That was my kingdom. My pe