All Chapters of Ruthless Temptation: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Laila’s POVI stood just inside the wide, arched doorway of the dining room, her hands lightly clasped in front of her as if she wasn’t quite sure where they belonged. The room buzzed with conversation and laughter Benjamin’s family gathered around the long oak table that seemed to stretch endlessly, every seat filled. Children squealed in delight as they darted around the adults, slipping between chairs and legs, unbothered by formality. Someone had just made a joke, something about Uncle Greg’s failed attempt at barbecuing, and the table erupted in laughter again.Laila smiled reflexively, a careful, practiced expression that never quite reached her eyes.She knew this dance well. The lighthearted teasing. The way the siblings traded inside jokes, speaking in a shorthand built from decades of shared memories. The way Benjamin’s mother, Marlene, floated from guest to guest like a gracious hostess in a well-rehearsed performance of warmth. Laila admired it

Multi-POV (The Grandkids)POV 1: Ava (Age 8 – Alina and Benson’s daughter)I don’t like potato salad, but Grandma Emma always makes me put a little on my plate.“Just try one bite,” she says with her magic smile—the kind that makes you feel like you’re part of something secret.The grass is soft under the picnic blanket, and I lie back, staring at the clouds while the grown-ups talk too loud about stuff that doesn’t sound fun. I look at Grandpa Killian. He’s telling a story again, using big hand movements and making everyone laugh. He always has gum in his pocket, and once, he told me it was “Pa’s secret weapon.”Daddy keeps looking at Mommy today, but she’s busy checking her phone. He looks kind of sad, and I want to tell him a joke to make him laugh like Grandpa does. But I don’t think it would work.So instead, I scoot closer to him and lean my head on his arm. He looks surprised. Then he smiles for real.I think hug

EmmaThe early morning sun painted the Tuscan hills in soft gold as we arrived at the plot, the scent of rosemary and warm earth curling in the air. My sandals crunched softly on the gravel as I stepped out of the car, my eyes immediately finding the familiar olive tree at the edge of the clearing—the one Killian said reminded him of us. Weathered but rooted. Twisted and resilient.The architect, Matteo, stood waiting, unrolling blueprints on a makeshift wooden table beneath a white canopy. Several builders and craftsmen flanked him, their hands calloused, faces sun-creased. Real workers. Real life.“Buongiorno,” Matteo greeted, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Shall we build your dream today?”I smiled, brushing wind-tousled hair from my face. “Let’s lay the bones, Matteo.”Killian placed a hand on my lower back as we approached, his touch grounding. We had spent months designing this. Every hallway, every arch, every window care

POV: Alina, Benjamin, AmelieAlinaThe letter sat on my nightstand for three days before I opened it.I wasn’t avoiding it, not exactly. I had just been… busy. There were school lunches to pack, reports to file, a client who insisted on late-night Zoom calls from Singapore. Life had a way of demanding so much, it left little room for sentiment.But that night, when the kids were finally asleep and Benson was in the shower, I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers gently tracing my mother’s handwriting on the envelope. It was unmistakably hers—precise, elegant, patient.Inside, her words were soaked in love.An invitation. Not just to a place, but to a moment. A moment to pause, to return.By the time I reached the final lines, my vision had blurred.“Come laugh with us again… Let’s remember where it all began.”I clutched the letter to my chest and closed my eyes.When Benson

POV: EmmaThe villa was asleep.Outside, the hush of the hills lay like a velvet blanket over the land, the breeze rustling the cypress trees like whispered secrets. Inside, every window glowed faintly with the warmth of life lived. Laughter from the evening still lingered in the stones beneath her feet. But now the house was quiet.Emma moved slowly, barefoot through the hallway, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders and her journal pressed to her chest.It had begun as a thought during dinner, when she watched Amelie stroke her still-flat belly with quiet wonder, when Benjamin lifted his son onto his shoulders, when Alina leaned against Benson, head resting on his shoulder, exhaustion and joy dancing in her eyes.A thought that had bloomed into something more urgent.They needed to know.All of them.Not just who she was, but what she carried. What she had fought for. What she hoped would remain when she was no long