All Chapters of The Phoenix Bride Rises: Trust Was Her First Mistake : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The evening air clung to the garden like a velvet cloak, cool, still, and heavy with the scent of blooming night jasmine. Rosa sat by the small window in her temporary estate’s study, nursing a steaming cup of chamomile tea. Her thoughts were a mess. Despite the mask she wore, Cedric had looked at her with searching eyes. He didn’t press again after this morning, but his silence felt more dangerous than confrontation.She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wall. Her heart had not stopped pounding since she left the palace. The room was silent save for the faint rhythmic breaths of her sleeping children in the adjoining nursery. He’s close to the truth.And what would happen once Cedric knew? Would he demand the twins? Would he try to drag them into the cold world of aristocracy where emotions were a liability?She could still feel the sharp sting of his rejection four years ago, the morning after that cursed night when he handed her

The silence between them stretched like a taut string, heavy with years of unanswered questions and unspoken truths. Cedric stared at Arla-Rosa, no, Rosa, as she now called herself. A mask shielded her face, but he did not need to see her features to recognize her. He had memorized every curve of her jaw, the softness in her eyes, the quiet defiance she wore like armor. He saw all of that now, tamed but unbroken.His hands curled into fists at his side. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” Arla-Rosa knelt beside Cassian and Celeste, checking them for any signs of injury. She didn’t look up when she answered. “Would it have changed anything? You didn’t even look at me that morning.”Cassian looked between them, his gaze sharp and observant. Celeste clung to her mother’s arm, sensing something heavy brewing beneath the surface. “You’re right,” Cedric said finally. “I didn’t. I was cold. Detached. That’s how I was taught to be.” Arla-Rosa stood up, br

As Cedric sat in the soft shadows of the restaurant, he looked down at the drawing again. The four stick figures smiled up at him, forever frozen in crayon joy. He was not in that picture just because of biology. He was there because two children, and their extraordinary mother, had decided he belonged. And now, he would fight to deserve it.The soft echo of children’s laughter still lingered in Cedric’s ears long after Arla-Rosa and the twins vanished into the night. He stood up but remained motionless, a hollow weight pressing against his ribs. Cassian. Celeste. Twins. His.The gravity of realization struck with brutal force, unraveling the tidy seams of his carefully ordered life. Duke Cedric Fleming, heir to the noble house of Fleming, who had faced war, assassination attempts, and political betrayal without flinching, was now undone by a pair of tiny hands and a mother’s quiet, devastating truth.He stumbled into the backseat of his car

The clink of cutlery echoed faintly in the quiet, private dining room. Arla-Rosa had not touched her food. Across from her, Cedric Fleming, Duke, Commander, the iron pillar of the Fleming estate, sat still, his eyes, unreadable.But Arla could feel it. Beneath the rigid calm of his posture, something inside him trembled. “I need you to understand everything,” she said finally, the quiet words peeling back the weight in her chest. “Even if it ruins everything.” Cedric did not speak. He simply nodded once.Arla took a breath. Her eyes drifted down to her hands, those same hands that had pulled over a hundred dying people back from the edge. They did not tremble when lives were in danger. But tonight, they did. “It started that night,” she whispered. “The gala. You were drugged.”His brows furrowed slightly. “I remember very little. Just fragments. I remember being dizzy. Hot. Then pain. Then you...” “You tried to resist it,” she said, cutting

The warm scent of cinnamon and sweet cream drifted through the east wing of the palace, curling beneath doors and tickling Cedric Fleming's nose as he stirred from sleep. For a man who had d lived most of his adult life in silence and routine, waking up to such domestic chaos was jarring... and strangely comforting.He sat up in bed, raking a hand through tousled hair, blinking against the gentle sunlight that streamed through the gauzy curtains. The quiet hum of the palace staff was notably absent this morning, replaced by muffled giggles, the occasional clink of porcelain, and a childlike "shh!" that made him chuckle.He did not have to guess who it was. Cassian. The door creaked open just as Cedric was getting out of bed. The little boy stood there, arms akimbo, his brows furrowed in the exact replica of his father’s serious expression. "You're late," Cassian announced gravely. "Breakfast strategy meeting began five minutes ago. I gave you a grace period."Cedric raised an eyebrow,