All Chapters of Unworthy No More : Chapter 171 - Chapter 175

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