Semua Bab Claiming Emery : Bab 71 - Bab 80

Our wedding was in three days, and I'd never been more terrified or more certain.I stood in the botanical garden's ceremony space, watching security personnel sweep the area with metal detectors and communication devices that looked like they belonged in a spy movie. What should have been a peaceful morning of final preparations had turned into a military operation.“The perimeter is secure,” one of the guards reported to Alec, who coordinated everything from a folding table covered with surveillance monitors. “No unauthorized personnel within a three-block radius.“”“What about the catering staff?” Alec asked.“Background checks completed. All vendors cleared through federal database searches.”I caught Killian watching me from across the garden, his expression carrying the kind of protective intensity that had become familiar over the past few weeks. He'd insisted on hiring private security that rivaled presidential detail, complete with advance teams and threat assessment protocol

The honeymoon villa overlooked the Mediterranean like our own private kingdom.I stood on the marble balcony watching sunrise paint the water gold and pink while Killian slept behind me, his breathing deep and peaceful for the first time in months. Two weeks in Italy, completely cut off from business and family drama - no phones, no security details, no crisis management. Just us.“Coffee's ready,” his voice came from inside, rough with sleep and contentment.I turned to find him in the doorway wearing nothing but pajama pants, holding two steaming cups and looking more relaxed than I had ever seen him. Marriage suited him - the tension he had carried for so long had melted away, replaced by something calmer and more confident.“Good morning, husband.”“Good morning, wife.” He handed me a cup and wrapped his free arm around my waist. “Sleep well?”“Better than I have in years. You?”“Like the dead. Amazing what happens when you are not expecting assassins or corporate coups.”We settl

It had been one year, and our love story had become legend.I stood on the deck of our lake house watching Killian chop firewood with unnecessary enthusiasm, his shirt discarded despite the October chill. The man who commanded billion-dollar deals in Manhattan boardrooms attacked split logs like they were hostile takeover attempts.“You know we have a perfectly good gas fireplace,” I called out.“Where's the satisfaction in that?” He buried the axe in another piece of oak. “Besides, I like the work.”“You like showing off.”“For my wife? Always.”The word still sent warmth through my chest. Wife. One year married, and I still felt giddy hearing it.Our lake house had become our true sanctuary - no bulletproof glass, no security systems, just us and the water and the kind of peace we'd fought to earn. We came here every few weeks to remember what quiet felt like.“Dinner's almost ready,” I said.“Good. I'm starving.”He planted the axe in the chopping block and walked toward me, sweat

The conference room held representatives from twelve countries, and they were all looking to me for answers.“Mumbai's employment program graduated forty-three women last month,” I said, clicking to the next slide on my presentation. “Sixty percent have started their own businesses. Thirty percent are employed by local companies. The remaining ten percent are pursuing advanced education.”Nods around the table, approving murmurs in multiple languages. The International Development Council had flown these people to New York specifically to see our results, and so far, the numbers were impressive.“What about the London site?” asked Minister Chen from the UK delegation.“Construction begins next month. We've partnered with local organizations to ensure cultural sensitivity in program design.” I switched slides again. “Housing assistance, job training, childcare services - all integrated under one roof.”My phone buzzed against my thigh. Probably Killian checking in, which he'd been doin

Heathrow Airport felt different when you were carrying the future in your belly.The private jet had been Killian's solution to my pregnancy concerns about commercial flying. Eight hours in pressurized luxury, complete with a fully stocked medical kit and pregnancy-safe snacks he had researched for weeks.“You packed ginger tablets for a private jet?” I asked, watching him organize what looked like a portable pharmacy.“Morning sickness doesn't care about altitude,” he said, double-checking the prenatal vitamins. “Dr. Martinez said travel could trigger nausea even in the second trimester.”“I'm fine, Killian.”“You are precious cargo. Both of you.”The way he said it made my chest warm. Not possessive, just protective in that uniquely Killian way that meant he'd planned for every possible scenario.London spread below us as we descended, gray and green and exactly as I remembered. Hyde Park stretched like a vast carpet, tiny figures moving along pathways that looked drawn with a chil