All Chapters of Ruthless Temptation: Chapter 91 - Chapter 97

Emma’s POV I jolted awake to the sound of Alina’s voice echoing down the hallway. “Mommy? Daddy? We’re gonna be late!” I blinked against the sunlight streaming through the windows, my heart skipping a beat as I registered the time on the clock. 7:45. Panic curled in my chest. “Killian!” He groaned into the pillow, refusing to budge. “Five more minutes.” “No! We overslept,” I hissed, already kicking the covers off and fumbling for my robe. “We have twenty minutes to get the kids dressed, fed, and out the door. Oh my God, what time did we even go to sleep?” Killian rolled over, stretching with that slow, lazy satisfaction that made me want to both strangle him and kiss him. His grin—sleepy, smug, utterly self-satisfied—said it all. “Late,” he murmured. “Very, very late.” I groaned, slipping my arms into the robe and tightening

Emma’s POV The soft clinking of cutlery against porcelain filled the dining room, a gentle backdrop to the familiar hum of Sunday brunch. The scent of cinnamon waffles, fresh berries, and brewed coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the warmth of family conversation. This chaos had somehow become my comfort. Alina was halfway through a waffle, more interested in drawing on the back of her napkin than actually eating. Across from her, our son sat in his highchair, gleefully smearing mashed banana over his tray like it was finger paint. Killian’s father leaned in to inspect Alina’s art and chuckled. “Is that a unicorn with a cape?” Alina nodded proudly. “It’s Supercorn. She saves jellybean planets!” Killian’s mother smiled warmly, sipping her tea while my mother, ever elegant, raised a curious brow at the chaos unfolding but said nothing. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her cup, probably

EMMA The sun filtered softly through the canopy of trees, casting dappled light over the garden that had become our sanctuary. I looked around, heart fluttering. Twinkling fairy lights intertwined with delicate white florals, the scent of jasmine and roses mingling in the warm breeze. It wasn’t a grand affair—it didn’t need to be. This was our home, our haven. And today, it would witness a new promise. I stood just inside the house, holding Alina’s tiny hand as she twirled in her flower crown. Her little giggles filled the space. Amelie , curled in her grandmother’s arms, cooed softly in her sleep. And I—despite the life we’d built, the storms we’d weathered—felt nervous. This wasn’t just about saying vows. It was about telling the man who challenged me, changed me, and made me fall deeper in love every day… that I’d choose him again. In every life. The music began to play—a soft melody we once danced to in the d

Emma Coming home felt different this time. The house was exactly how we left it—Alina’s princess slippers by the stairs, Amelie’s toy giraffe perched on the windowsill, the scent of lavender and baby lotion lingering in the air. Familiar. Comfortable. Ours. But something had shifted. Not just in the house, but in us. We were lighter. Closer. More in tune, as if something during our time away had recalibrated our hearts. The quiet walks in the vineyards, the late-night whispers under the stars, the way he looked at me in that garden in Germany—all of it had carved deeper grooves into our bond. I still felt the echo of his touch—how his fingers had threaded through mine under the moonlight, how his mouth tasted like red wine and promises. The way he had whispered my wife like it meant something holy, something eternal. As we stepped inside, the chaos resumed in a heartbe