All Chapters of (Not) My Husband: Still The Father Of Our Children: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The old room hadn’t changed much since the twins were six—same soft-blue walls, same slanted ceiling, the faint scent of cedar still trapped in the beam above the window.Boxes of long-abandoned toys lined one shelf, and a crooked growth-chart—Caleb, Camden, Caleb, Camden—climbed the doorframe in uneven pencil marks.It should have smelled like nostalgia.Instead, it throbbed with Alpha.Peppermint: bright-sharp, electrifying. Spearmint: warmer, greener, edged with smoke. And threading between—Lior’s scent: vanilla-snow and the faint mineral bite of cold iron, shy but unmistakably Omega.He had followed them in before he could think better of it; now the door was shut, the lock clicking home like a final period on a sentence he hadn’t meant to finish.Caleb leaned back against the dresser, arms folded, dark-gold eyes tracking every flutter of Lior’s white lashes. Camden slid to the side, a lazy prowl, backlit by the yel

Lavender steam coiled thick and slow, clinging to the mirror, the tile, the backs of two bodies caught in the kind of heat that made the air feel drunk.Sebastian’s palms were flat to the wall, chest heaving gently, steam-damp skin glowing under the low vanity light. Every inch of him was slick—neck to thighs—Omega warmth blooming between his legs in slow rivulets, sweet with scent and edged with tremble.Behind him, Ezra moved like a shadow come home. Barefoot, hard, and silent but for the sound of skin meeting steam. One palm slid up Sebastian’s waist, fingers splaying over ribs with quiet possession. His hips were already nestled close, heat pressed against the cleft of Sebastian’s body—but he hadn’t taken him. Not yet.He was savoring.“Still with me?” Ezra asked, lips grazing the back of his mate’s ear.Sebastian’s answer was a breathless laugh. “You make it hard to be anywhere else.”Ezra smiled against

Mia didn’t mean to slam the door, but she did.Her old bedroom greeted her like a time capsule—academy awards on the shelf, a busted dresser with a dent from when she punched it at sixteen, and the faint scent of sandalwood and vanilla still clinging to the curtains. It should’ve felt safe.But Lavielle stood inside it, looking violently out of place. And completely at home.Her black suit jacket was still buttoned—bare skin visible at the throat, inked tiger-stripes curling from her neck down beneath the lapels. She was already undoing her belt with one hand, slow, like she was bored. Like she knew exactly how this would go.“Really?” Mia snapped, glaring. “You couldn’t wait five minutes?”Lavielle’s mouth curled as she let the belt hang loose from her hand. “You brought me to your bedroom. Forgive me for reading the pheromones.”Mia’s scent had betrayed her before the door even closed. She could feel it risi

Sebastian descended the stairs on shaky legs, one hand half-covering the fresh bite at his throat. The lanterns in the living room cast a soft honey glow across book-lined shelves, but the scene he’d just left behind still burned behind his eyes like a curse: Lavielle Marrowen—shirtless, tiger-striped, cigarette dangling blocking the doorway while Mia sprawled on the bed, wrecked and glassy-eyed. Even through three walls Lavielle’s blood-orchid smoke and crushed pepper clung to the timber like varnish. Elio glanced up from his seat by the hearth, amber liquor swirling slow in a cut-glass tumbler. Sandalwood logs popped in the grate; cinnamon-and-apple smoke curled sweetly through the room. “Judging by that expression,” he drawled, “I take it Lavielle finally made herself…known.” Sebastian lowered himself onto the sofa arm, pulse still sprinting. “Known? She’s shifted Mia’s centre of gravity six inches south.” Elio winced, more long-suffering than shocked then produced a sli

Sebastian hadn’t always been like this.There was a time—Ezra remembered it like muscle memory—when waking him meant risking a death glare that could curdle milk. Sebastian had been all sharp lines and sharper words back then, coiled tight even in sleep, too dignified to be held.Now?Now Ezra had a swollen, whimpering Omega practically folded into his chest before sunrise—scent-drunk, glossy-eyed, and melting. Slick clung to his thighs like syrup, his tits ached from fullness, his belly round and firm with the weight of their pups—and Ezra’s cock was already buried inside him.Pregnancy had broken something in him.No—softened it.Sebastian wasn’t just pliant. He was spoiled. He clung in his sleep, sighed Ezra’s name like it meant safety, got moody if Ezra didn’t kiss his shoulders before work. His thighs had grown softer, heavier. His hips stayed spread in his sleep. His breasts were fuller now, sensitive under Ezra’s palms, nipples dark and tender under thin fabric. Even his sc