All Chapters of Love At Sea: Chapter 91 - Chapter 100

Dr. Vance’s office always had the same scent: soft lavender, freshly brewed chamomile tea, and aged wood that had absorbed confessions for decades. The sand-colored walls, real plants in handmade clay pots, and natural light filtered through linen blinds created an environment meticulously designed to calm nervous systems that lived in a constant state of alert. After nearly two years of weekly sessions, that space had become the only place where I could be completely honest without calculating consequences or escape routes.On that specific October afternoon, with the cooler air announcing the change of season, I had arrived five minutes early—something Dr. Vance had once noted as a sign that I was processing something important I still couldn’t name.She was right, as she almost always was.I was sunk into the usual gray armchair, legs crossed, hands resting in my lap with a calmness

That night, after Matthew and Nolah had gone to sleep and the house settled into that specific silence of a family that had rested enough to fully trust tomorrow, I gathered the three of them on the back veranda.The October air was warm, carrying the scent of sea salt and the flowers Elias had planted in the garden—jasmine and lavender that perfumed the nights. The teak table was lit by candles Zion had lit without being asked, creating golden circles of light that turned the space into something intimate and sacred.Zion was leaning back in his chair, holding a cup of coffee that had probably gone cold long ago but which he kept in his hands like an anchor. Luka had his tablet in his lap but with the screen off—a present in a way he rarely managed without conscious effort. Elias was sitting on the lowest step of the veranda, arms resting on his knees, looking at me with that infinite patience that never expired,

Luka Rhodes had never been good at keeping secrets from himself.He could hide things from the entire world—financial transactions, threats to the organization, and complex strategic plans involving dozens of people. But hiding from himself? That was another story. And for the past three weeks, the secret he carried was Maeve.More precisely, what Maeve was writing in the early morning hours.It all started innocently. One night, after waking up to the colder side of the bed where she should have been, Luka quietly went downstairs to the veranda and saw her writing. He didn’t interrupt. He just watched for a few minutes and returned to bed. But curiosity—that same sharp curiosity that had made him indispensable to the organization—sank its claws into him.In the following days, he began to notice the small details: Maeve with faint dark circles in the morning

The late afternoon sun streamed through the high windows of the private studio Zion had built at the back of the property, in an area isolated enough for the outside world to feel like a distant whisper. It had been three weeks since he made the final decision: this would be his last album. There would be no tour, no aggressive promotion, no comeback. Just music. Real music. And then, silence.He named the project Cycle. A simple, almost raw name that summed up everything he felt at this point in his life. In his early forties, Zion was tired of being an idol. He wanted to be just a man. A husband. A father. Himself.Maeve arrived every day around ten in the morning, carrying fresh coffee and the smile that could still calm his inner storms. She wore comfortable clothes—leggings, oversized shirts, her hair tied up messily—and settled into the leather couch in the control booth as if it were her second hom

The afternoon sun beat down hard on the vacant lot in Complexo da Maré, turning the cracked concrete into an oven. Elias stood in the center of what, in a few weeks, would become the Escudo Academy. His calloused hands held the simple architectural project he had drawn himself with the help of a volunteer architect. At forty-two years old, the man once known as the most ruthless fighter in the Organization felt, for the first time, that his life was about to make complete sense.He had grown up among punches and screams. The alcoholic father who beat him almost every night. The mother who disappeared when he was nine. The streets that taught him that the only way to survive was to hit first and harder. The organization had refined that violence, turning it into a lethal tool. But after everything — after Zion, after Maeve, after Luka, after watching Matthew grow up — Elias understood that carrying that weight forever would be th