All Chapters of Unworthy No More : Chapter 171 - Chapter 180

Isla HartThe morning sunlight spilled across the floorboards, as Sophie’s rolled over, stretching like she owned the world. I watched her from the doorway, holding back a smile that threatened to split across my face. She had no idea what we had survived, no concept of the shadows we had escaped. All she knew was warmth, love, and the kind of safety I had fought for her entire life.Alexander appeared behind me, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes softened when they met mine, a silent acknowledgment of the quiet triumph we had earned together. “She’s perfect,” he said simply. I laughed, shaking my head. “She thinks she is perfect.” He smirked, then pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I think she is. And you… you’re radiant today.”I glanced down at my growing belly, cupping it instinctively. The little life inside me had become a constant reminder of everything worth protecting. Every sleepless night, every fight, every calculated step to

Author's POV The prison recreation hall smelled of disinfectant and stale sweat, a scent that never quite left, no matter how often the floors were scrubbed. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, some flickering like tired, dying insects. Around him, other inmates argued over a card game, laughed too loudly at a cheap comedy show playing on another channel, or simply stared into nothing.But Nathaniel Blake heard none of it. His eyes were fixed on the television in the corner of the room. The camera panned slowly over a sea of white roses and gilded decor. Soft orchestral music filled the broadcast, blending into a gasp from the crowd as the doors of the cathedral opened. And there she was. Isla Hart.She stood at the entrance like a vision drawn from a life he had never deserved. Her dress flowed around her like liquid light, layers of soft lace and silk moving with every step she took down the aisle. There was no hesitation in her walk.

Author's POV The prison television was bolted high into the corner like a cold, indifferent god. The volume was always low. Not because the guards controlled it, but because Nathaniel Blake could no longer bear noise. Too many sounds now gnawed at him. The clang of metal doors. The echo of boots on concrete. The coughs of men who had once bowed when he entered a room.Today, though, he had turned the volume up. The anchor’s voice filled the common area. “In lighter news… the nation celebrates again today as Isla Langston-Hart, founder of the Dawn Foundation and key figure in last year’s anti-corruption reform movement, welcomed triplets into the world early this morning…”The screen shifted. There she was. Isla. Not broken. Not trembling. Not the ghost he had once reduced her to. She was glowing. Not the dramatic kind of glow magazines loved, but something quieter. Something real. The kind that came from peace sitting deep inside a person i

Sophie Langston People have always had a way of deciding what makes someone valuable. When I was little, I thought it was money. Then I thought it was intelligence. For a while, I believed it was power. I was wrong about all three. My name is Sophie Langston, and if you've heard my family's name before, there is a good chance you've heard it because of my mother. Isla Langston. My mother was once a woman people looked at and decided was not worth very much. She was a wife who had been underestimated, a mother who had been pushed aside, and a woman who had to rebuild her entire life while the people who hurt her expected her to stay broken. She didn't. She built something of her own. Then she built a family around it. And somehow, along the way, I became part of that family. I was ten years old when the strangest chapter of my childhood began. My brothers and sister were four. Yes. Three four-year-olds. Three terrifyingly intelligent four-year-olds who had already begun making perf

Sophie The man disappeared around the corner. I kept staring after him. "Who was he?" I asked. Dad didn't answer immediately. That scared me more than the man's smile. Dad had always been good at making difficult things look manageable. He could walk into a room full of hostile businessmen and make them feel as though they were the ones being evaluated. But now, his eyes remained fixed on the corridor. "I don't know," he finally said. The headmistress cleared her throat. "I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation." Dad looked at her. "I'm sure." He didn't sound convinced. Neither was I. Before I could say anything else, another woman approached. She was younger than the headmistress, perhaps in her thirties, wearing a white blouse beneath a gray jacket. She carried a folder against her chest. "Dr. Bennett," the headmistress said. The woman smiled at us. "Mr. Langston." Dad nodded. "Doctor." Her attention moved toward the triplets. "I've been looking forward to meeting them." Som