All Chapters of The Phoenix Heiress: Chapter 91 - Chapter 99

The common room was alive with its usual chaos — mugs clinking, voices overlapping, the faint hum of music from someone’s phone. But for me, everything narrowed to the corner where Koda and Jace sat, their block tower leaning precariously like it was daring gravity to try them.I crouched down, steadying my voice.“Koda, sweetheart,” I said, brushing a curl from his forehead. “I need to tell you something important.”His big brown eyes lifted, curious, trusting. Jace looked up too, protective as ever, his jaw tight like he already sensed this wasn’t good news.“Ari’s going home tonight,” I continued softly. “She loves you very much, but she needs to be with her family. Just like you’re here with yours.”Koda’s lip trembled. “But… Ari stay,” he whispered, the words broken but clear.I squeezed his hand. “She stayed when things were scary. She protected you, just like Jace did. But now it’s time for her to be safe with her family. That doesn’t mean she stops loving you.”Jace shifted cl

The Shed was colder tonight, though maybe it was just me. Tiffany had been here nearly a week, and the air felt heavy with waiting. I wasn’t built for this — not the planning, not the silence that pressed down like a weight. My heart wanted mercy, but mercy wasn’t what tonight demanded.Sarah stood across from me, her jaw tight, her eyes carrying the kind of shadows you only get from doing this before. She didn’t speak much, but I could feel the storm inside her. Even for her, this wasn’t easy.Mama and Mama Red were here too, steady as stone. They didn’t push, didn’t judge. They were simply present — the kind of presence that says you’re not alone, even in this. Mama Red’s hand rested on Sarah’s shoulder, grounding her. My mother’s gaze found mine, soft but firm, reminding me that sometimes survival asks for things we’d rather not give.I kept my voice low, almost afraid it would break. “I don’t know if I can do this, but I know it needs to be done."Mama squeezed my hand. “You don’t

The house was quiet now. Too quiet. The laughter, the voices, the warmth of my family had faded into the distance with their departure. I stood at the window, watching the taillights disappear, my chest aching with the familiar weight of goodbye.Mama had held me tight before she left, whispering, “We’ll be back for Halloween. We can’t miss Koda’s first one.” Papa had echoed her promise, his hand firm on my shoulder, his eyes steady. I believed them. I had to.Nonna had kissed my cheeks, both of them, her voice soft but certain. “You will be hosting Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. You will not be alone, Kat. Family is not only near — it is always.”Their words stitched hope into the ache, but still, the silence pressed heavy.I turned, and there they were — my new family. Wolf, steady as ever, watching me with eyes that said he understood. Jace, leaning against the doorway, his grin crooked but comforting. And Koda, bouncing on his toes, already asking if he could wear his costu

The Clubhouse had never smelled like this before. Usually it was leather, smoke, and steel—our kind of perfume. Tonight, though, it was roasted turkey, garlic, and the faint sweetness of pumpkin pie. The kind of smells that made even the hardest men soften, if only for a night.I leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. Kat was in the middle of it, her laugh carrying over the clatter of dishes as she tried to wrangle Jace into helping. At fifteen, he was all attitude, rolling his eyes as he stacked plates, but I caught the grin he tried to hide when his nonna praised him.Koda, though—he was the real show. Three years old, wide-eyed, darting between legs like a pup who hadn’t learned his place yet. He stopped every few minutes to tug at someone’s sleeve, asking questions in that curious voice of his.“What’s Thanksgiving, NoNo?” he asked, staring up at Kat’s father as if the man held all the answers.Kat’s father crouched down, his voice warm. “It’s a day w

Five Years LaterThe clubhouse smelled of pine and cinnamon, the tree glittering in the corner with ornaments the kids had hung themselves. Wrapping paper crinkled underfoot, laughter echoing off the walls, and for a moment I just stood there, soaking it all in. My family. My home. My miracle.The door swung open, letting in a rush of cold air and snowflakes. Jace stepped inside, taller now, his shoulders broader, his stride confident. College had changed him — MSSU had given him independence, maturity — but when Koda barreled into him, squealing, “Bubba!” he laughed the same boyish laugh I remembered from years ago.Rollo bounded after them, tail wagging, barking like he’d been waiting all semester for this reunion. Jace crouched, ruffling Koda’s hair, then scooped Liviana into his arms as she clung to his leg.“Bubba!” Liviana squealed, her curls bouncing, her little voice full of joy. At four, she was all mischief and sweetness, her Viking‑Italian spirit shining in every grin. Her