The Kane Contract: Vows of Venom のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 71 - チャプター 79

(Livia’s POV)The hospital room has become our small universe by the afternoon of the second day.Sunlight slants through the half-closed blinds in warm golden bars across the bed, catching dust motes that drift lazily in the air.The monitors beep in a soft, steady rhythm, my heartbeat, Sandra’s heartbeat, the quiet pulse of life continuing. The scent of baby lotion mingles with the faint antiseptic smell that still clings to everything, and the bouquet of white roses Alexander brought this morning sits on the windowsill, petals perfect and fresh, their fragrance soft but insistent.Sandra is asleep in the bassinet beside me now, tiny fists curled near her face, mouth open in that perfect newborn O, breathing in those little puffs that I could listen to forever.Her dark hair has fluffed up slightly, soft waves catching the light, and her cheeks are flushed pink from nursing. She’s wearing the tiniest hospital hat, white with a single rose embroidered on the brim, someone in the nurs

(Alexander’s POV)The drive home from the hospital feels like crossing a threshold into a different world.Sandra is in the car seat between us, strapped in and sleeping, her tiny chest rising and falling under the pale-pink blanket. The hospital had given us a white rose-patterned one; Livia insisted on using it. Every few minutes I glance back at her through the rear-view mirror, checking that she’s still breathing. My heart does a strange little flip each time I see her tiny hand curled near her cheek.Livia sits beside me in the passenger seat. She’s pale, still sore, moving carefully. The C-section incision is healing, but she winces when the car hits a small bump. I drive slower than usual, avoiding potholes, taking corners gently. She keeps one hand on the car seat, fingers brushing Sandra’s blanket, the other resting on my thigh. The contact grounds me.Neither of us speaks much. There’s no need. The silence between us is full, warm and complete.When we turn into the underg

(Alexander’s POV)The cliff edge is exactly how I pictured it.Sunset bleeding across the Pacific in violent shades of orange and pink, the kind of light that makes everything look like it’s on fire in the best way. Waves crash below us, loud, rhythmic, relentless. The wind is sharp, salty, tugging at my black suit jacket and Livia’s white dress like it wants to be part of this too.Sandra in her little white carrier, strapped to my chest, fast asleep with her tiny fist curled under her chin. Six weeks postpartum, and Livia still looks like she could conquer empires in her sleep. The dress is simple, flowing chiffon that catches the wind, low neckline, no veil, just her hair loose and wild. She’s barefoot again. Always barefoot on important days.She’s standing a few feet away, facing the ocean, arms wrapped around herself against the chill. I walk up behind her slowly.She doesn’t turn. She knows it’s me.I stop just close enough that my chest brushes her back.“Cold?” I ask.She sha

(Theo’s POV)I’m standing in aisle 7 of the Fresno grocery store, under lights that buzz like dying insects, and the air tastes like stale bread and regret.My sneakers are glued to the linoleum. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t look. Every instinct screams at me to turn around, walk out, keep pretending the world ended somewhere else. But my hand moves anyway, slow, heavy, like it belongs to someone else and pulls the latest Forbes issue from the rack.The cover slams into me like a freight train.Livia.Smirking. Head high. Black blazer open over white silk, hand on her waist, six-weeks-postpartum softness still visible, unhidden, unapologetic. Alexander behind her, hand possessive on her hip, chin on her shoulder, eyes locked on her like she’s the only thing that exists in his entire universe.The headline screams in bold white:“The Most Powerful Couple in America”Livia Kane, CEO of the new Kane-Harper empire, smirking on the cover with her husband’s hand on her six-weeks-postpar

(Alexander’s POV)The kitchen smells like fresh coffee, oranges, and the faint sweetness of baby lotion that never quite leaves this house anymore.It’s early, too early for the kids to be awake, but Sandra’s already up, perched on a stool at the island in her unicorn pajamas, swinging her legs and drawing on a napkin with a purple crayon. She’s five and a half now, all sharp curiosity and bossy affection, insisting on “helping” make breakfast every weekend even though her version of helping usually ends in flour clouds and extra chocolate chips.Leo and Caspian are still asleep upstairs, Leo sprawled across his bed like he owns it, Caspian curled in his crib with his favorite stuffed wolf. Livia’s hair is messy from sleep, eyes soft and tired but she’s smiling, small, private, the smile that’s only for me when the house is still quiet.I’m at the stove, flipping pancakes, pretending I’m not watching them all like they might disappear if I blink.This is my life now.Five years ago I