All Chapters of Betrothed To Six Lovers: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Lila's P.O.V.The vines were in full bloom again, their leaves a vibrant green canopy against the summer sky, two years after Shayla and Lucas had turned our world into a chaotic symphony of laughter, tantrums, and endless wonder. The twins were toddlers now, Shayla with her wild curls and fierce independence, Lucas with his dimpled smile and Ethan's easy charm. They chased each other through the rows of grapes, their giggles echoing like music, while Ethan and I watched from the porch, sipping iced tea. Life had settled into a rhythm that felt almost too good to be true— the vineyard thriving under Ethan's expansions, my design business picking up with remote clients, and Damien a distant memory, his name rarely mentioned except in hushed updates from the private investigator. He'd slunk off to Europe, or so the reports said, no further threats, no shadows lurking.But secrets have a way of resurfacing, don't they? Like weeds in the soil, they push through no matter how deeply you bu

Lila's P.O.VThe vineyard looked different in the late autumn light—golden, almost forgiving, as if the vines themselves were trying to pretend the last few months hadn’t happened. The boys were three months old now: Aiden with his father’s dimples and serious blue eyes, Noah with his darker curls and the watchful gaze that sometimes made my stomach twist. They slept in their cribs side by side, tiny fists curled near their cheeks, and every time I looked at them I felt the same impossible mixture of love and dread.I hadn’t planned to contact Damien. After he showed up at our door that night—smirking, saying “We need to talk about my child” like it was a casual business arrangement—I’d told myself it was over. Ethan had called the police. Damien had disappeared again before the cruiser even turned into the drive. I’d screamed at Diane until my voice cracked, and she’d left in tears, our friendship lying in pieces on the porch floor. Therapy had helped Ethan and me stitch things back

Lila’s P.O.V.I stood in the kitchen, the note crumpled in my fist, staring at the back door like it was a gateway to hell. The diaper bag sat heavy on my shoulder, Noah snuggled against me in the carrier, his little breaths warm through my coat. The clock on the wall ticked past 10:55. The barn was a ten-minute walk across the east field—dark, overgrown, forgotten. Damien would be waiting there, his patience worn thin by my pleas and delays.But I couldn't move. My feet felt rooted to the floorboards, like the vines outside had crept in and wrapped around my ankles. All day I'd rehearsed the words in my head: Ethan, Noah isn't yours. He's Damien's. We need to face this together. I'd waited for the perfect moment—that fateful Saturday, the one where everything was supposed to shatter or mend. Ethan had been out most of the afternoon, meeting with a potential buyer for next season's harvest. "Back by dinner," he'd said, kissing me goodbye with that easy smile. But dinner came and went,

Lila’s P.O.V.The porch swing creaked under my weight as I rocked back and forth, the blankets piled around me doing little to ward off the chill that had settled deep in my bones. Dawn was breaking now, a pale gray light filtering through the bare vines, turning the vineyard into a ghost of itself. The guest house light had gone out sometime in the night—Ethan must have finally slept, or at least turned it off to brood in the dark. I envied him that, the ability to shut off the world. My eyes burned from staring into the shadows, my mind a relentless loop of Noah's cries, Damien's cruel text, Shayla's innocent questions.I hadn't moved since tucking the kids back in. My phone was clutched in my numb fingers, the battery down to 12%. I'd texted Ethan again around four: Please come home. The kids are asking for you. No reply. Called twice more—straight to voicemail each time. His voice on the recording, warm and steady: "This is Ethan. Leave a message." It mocked me now, a reminder of

Lila’s P.O.V.The hospital hallway blurred around me as I sat on the cold tile floor, Shayla's small body pressed against mine, her tears soaking into my sweater. The nurse had hurried away after the chaos, muttering something about protocols, but I barely heard her. Ethan's words echoed in my head: "This is over." He'd said it like a death sentence, then turned and strode out, his footsteps fading down the corridor without a backward glance. Damien had left with Noah, the carrier swinging casually in his grip as if he were picking up groceries, not stealing my heart.Stealing. That's what it felt like. But legally? The test results burned in my pocket—the folder the doctor had handed me as a courtesy. 99.98% Damien. Zero percent Ethan. The truth laid bare, silent no more.I wiped Shayla's cheeks with my thumb, my own eyes dry now, numb. "It's okay, baby. Mama's here."She sniffled, looking up at me with those wide eyes that mirrored Ethan's—blue and trusting, even now. "Daddy mad? No