Semua Bab Ruthless Temptation: Bab 131 - Bab 140

POV: Emma ⸻ The contractions started in the early hours of the morning, soft at first but gradually becoming stronger. Emma had been awake for a while before she noticed the rhythmic tightening in her belly. She lay there for a few minutes, listening to the soft sound of Killian’s breathing beside her, his body still and warm next to hers. The last few weeks of waiting had built up to this moment, and now, the anticipation was starting to feel very real. She shifted slightly, testing the sensation, and sure enough, it was unmistakable. The baby was coming. Emma took a deep breath, trying not to wake Killian too soon. She knew he would be frantic if he knew, and she needed just a moment to gather herself. She hadn’t planned for it to happen this way—no grand moment of realization, no slow build-up. It was happening, quietly and without warning. Another contraction gripped her, and she clenched her j

POV: Killian Sunday mornings had become sacred. Not because of routine or religion, but because they were slow. Untouched by alarms or schedules, they belonged solely to them—the Blackwood family. Killian leaned back on the sun-drenched patio chair, a warm mug of coffee in one hand, his infant son nestled against his chest in a carrier, fast asleep. The weight of his tiny body, the soft rhythm of his breathing, and the faint scent of baby lotion—Killian wouldn’t trade it for anything. The morning air carried a crispness that hinted at spring’s full bloom, the sky painted in soft hues of pale blue and gold. The sound of laughter floated from the backyard where Alina and Amelie chased each other through the grass, shrieking with joy and mischief. Amelie, now in her confident pre-teen phase, was faster but more dramatic; Alina, poised and always laughing, gave just enough effort to keep the game going.

POV: Killian Killian parked the car in the lot just off the main quad, heart thudding with anticipation as he glanced over at Emma in the passenger seat. She raised a curious eyebrow. “This isn’t the restaurant.” He smiled, loving how even after all these years, surprising her still thrilled him. “It’s not. I had a better idea.” From the backseat came a chorus of curious questions from Amelie and Alina, while their son cooed softly in his car seat, content with the motionless car and his favorite stuffed fox. Killian reached into the center console, pulling out a folded map with landmarks circled in red. He handed it to Emma. “I figured it’s time they saw where it all began.” Emma unfolded the map, her breath catching as she realized what she was holding. “No way…” she whispered, eyes flicking up to the stone buildings visible through the windshield. “You brought

POV: Killian The house was quiet again, though this time for a different reason. Emma had taken the girls to a weekend retreat—something about yoga, meditation, and “no men allowed.” Killian had laughed at her dramatics, kissed her on the forehead, and waved her and their daughters off while their son clung to his leg like a barnacle. Now, hours later, that same three-year-old was passed out upstairs after what could only be described as a Category 5 tantrum at the playground. Killian had survived it—barely—armed with fruit snacks, a juice box, and years of parental diplomacy. The house felt… still. Not empty, but unusually serene. He’d always craved quiet before Emma. Before kids. Now, the silence was heavy. Oddly meaningful. And it called to him. More specifically, it drew him toward her writing drawer—the one in her office she’d once jokingly told him, “Off-limits, Mr. Blackwood.

POV: Emma If someone had told me back then that the boy I used to tease the quiet, maddeningly composed Killian Thomas would someday become the love of my life, the father of my children, and the man who could still undo me with a single look…I would have laughed. No, not just laughed. I would have scoffed, flipped my hair, and strutted away with the arrogance only youth could justify. But life has a way of laughing back, doesn’t it? I remember the first time I really saw him. It wasn’t during one of those endless lectures where we’d sit on opposite ends of the classroom, stealing sideways glances between arguments. It wasn’t when we traded barbed comments over group projects, pretending we weren’t fascinated by each other’s minds. It was a late afternoon, golden light slanting across the university’s quad, and he was sitting on the gra