All Chapters of Goodbye, Mr. Ex, I’ve Married Your Uncle : Chapter 181 - Chapter 190

Scarlett’s POV.Returning to the mansion felt like exhaling after holding my breath for too long. The sight of the tall iron gates and the familiar stretch of the long driveway somehow brought a great sense of peace to me.The stone walls gleamed faintly in the late afternoon light, and the familiar sound of fountains by the entrance reminded me that this place—despite everything—was… home.Even though technically, it was Leon’s, it still felt like it was where I should be.Security was everywhere. Ezra had hired replacement security guards, after the last one who somehow messed up and allowed in whoever had managed to get into Leila and James’s room.Two cars idled by the gate, and another at the side entrance. It was then when I realized, with a quiet ache in my chest, that no matter how much danger followed us, at least this was home.Leon got out first, speaking with Ezra as staff began unloading the bags and the babies’ things. I unbuckled James’s carrier while Leon lifted Leila

Scarlett’s POV.It started innocently enough. Late afternoon tea in the sunroom, soft music playing somewhere down the hall, and the twins asleep in their bassinets beside the table. Miriam had insisted on making it “a family moment,” which sounded lovely in theory—until she opened her mouth.“So,” she began, stirring her tea like she was preparing for battle. “How many children do you and my son plan to have?”I froze mid-sip. The tea went down the wrong way, and I nearly choked trying to swallow.“I—uh—what?” I managed, wiping my mouth with a napkin.Miriam’s expression stayed perfectly composed, like she hadn’t just dropped the conversational equivalent of a grenade. “Children, dear. You know, siblings for these two. You and Leon make such beautiful babies, it would be a shame to stop at one set.”I blinked at her. I wasn’t sure if she was joking or completely serious. “Oh, we haven’t really… talked about that yet.”“Nonsense. It’s never too soon to think ahead,” she said, waving o

Scarlett’s POV.The scent of freshly brewed coffee was the first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes. It drifted in from downstairs, mixing with the faint sound of laughter—soft and melodic. It was unmistakably Miriam’s. For a moment, I allowed myself to lie there, the morning light spilling through the curtains, warming my face.The house felt alive.Thankfully, not in a way that involved screeching alarms, shouting, or late-night distressed knocks at the door. Just the quiet hum of normal life, something that felt rare these days.When I finally made my way down the stairs, the calm illusion shattered almost instantly. It was not in a bad way, but in that distinctly Miriam fashion that made subtlety impossible.The dining room looked like a wedding had exploded inside it.There were fabric swatches, stacks of papers, and open binders spread across every surface. An actual florist and an event planner stood at the table, both looking mildly terrified as Miriam gestured dramatically

Leon’s POV.Her breath hitched against my mouth, soft and trembling, every second between us stretching into something heavier, harder to stop. My hand slid to her waist, feeling her fingers curl into the fabric of my shirt as though she was afraid I might disappear if she let go. It had been weeks of tension, of unspoken looks across rooms, of near-touches that never quite happened—until now.Scarlett’s laugh was barely a whisper when I kissed her again, slower, deeper, until I forgot about the space between us entirely. Her hands went to my tie, pulling it loose with one firm tug, her eyes never leaving mine. The sound of my shirt buttons giving way made my pulse stumble. I could taste her breath, feel her heartbeat. Everything else in the world—the hum of the air conditioner, the faint hiss of the ocean outside—fell away.We moved together, half-blind, stumbling until the edge of the bed caught behind my legs. She pressed a hand to my chest, and I leaned into it, hovering over her.

Scarlett’s POV.I didn’t sleep. Not even for a second.The night dragged on, one endless stretch of fluorescent-lit hours where every tick of the clock echoed too loudly and every breath I took hurt. The smell of antiseptic clung to my skin. The chairs in the waiting room were hard, cold, and uncomfortable, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. I sat there in silence with my arms folded around myself, staring blankly at the closed double doors that led to the pediatric intensive care unit.Leon sat beside me the entire time. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. He’d been holding my hand since we arrived, his thumb brushing back and forth against my knuckles in slow, rhythmic strokes. Every now and then, he’d get up to talk to a nurse, or step outside for a moment—and when he returned, I could see the exhaustion in his face, the redness in his eyes that he didn’t bother hiding anymore.He was trying to be strong, I could tell. But the truth was, we were both breaking apart quietly