Semua Bab My Billionaire Ex- Husband’s Nemesis : Bab 171 - Bab 180

ARIA'S POVBy five o'clock, the golden light of late afternoon began to bleed into deep hues of indigo and violet along the upper rim of the canyon.Leaving the terrace behind where the quiet hum of conversation centered around Nora’s restored energy and Kat’s forge fire, Theo and I took the narrow, winding track that climbed behind the upper orchard. The trail was steep, carpeted in dry pine needles that crunched softly under our boots, ascending through the tall hemlocks until the timber thinned out into the open, rocky crags of the high eastern ridge.Here, two hundred feet above the valley floor, the wind carried the crisp, cold bite of the approaching autumn. It rustled through the high grass and carried the clean, sharp scent of balsam fir.We reached the flat granite ledge that overlooked the entire basin. Below us, the estate was laid out like a living map, cradled safely within the embrace of the mountain walls.From this height, the daily rhythm of our life took on a quiet,

ARIA'S POVThe change came in the dead of night, silent as a thief and total as the turning of a tide.I woke before dawn to a cold that felt different from the sharp, brittle frosts of October. It wasn't the stinging, dry bite that rime leaves on glass, but a dense, heavy stillness that seemed to absorb every sound from the valley below. The steady, rhythmic thud-clack of the waterwheel down at the creek was muffled, transformed into a soft, cushioned thrumming that barely reached the bedroom window.Beside me, Theo stirred, his heavy hand sliding across the wool blanket to cover mine. He didn't open his eyes right away, he just listened to the deep, unnatural quiet outside, his chest rising and falling in a slow, deliberate breath."It arrived," he murmured, his deep voice thick with sleep."It arrived," I agreed softly.I slipped out from under the thick goose-down quilt, the bare floorboards under my feet holding a bitter, bone deep chill. Crossing to the double paned glass fram

ARIA'S POVBy three in the afternoon, the low winter sun began to dip behind the ragged limestone jaggedness of the western ridge, casting long, bruised-blue shadows across the white expanse of the valley floor.In the big kitchen, the air was thick with the rich, savory steam of a slow simmering venison and root vegetable stew. Elizabeth had added dried thyme, garlic, and two handfuls of small yellow potatoes from the cool cellar bins, letting the heavy cast-iron pot bubble gently over the dying embers of the hearth. The simple, honest smell filled the stone hall, a promise of warmth waiting for the men when they returned from the trail.Nora sat by the wide window, her fingers working steadily to knot leather thongs onto a set of iron ice-cleats Kat had helped her forge down in the shop before noon. She kept looking out toward the lower gap, her eyes tracking the quiet, snow-draped opening between the granite pillars."They've been gone three hours," Nora said quietly, setting th

ARIA'S POVThe morning brought a brilliant, blinding blue sky that made the fresh snow on the upper terrace dazzle like crushed diamond dust.Down in the carpenter’s shop, the air was warm with the crisp, resinous perfume of freshly cut white pine and sweet cedar shavings. By eight o'clock, the rhythmic rasp of Thomas’s draw-knife was already beating a steady cadence alongside the crisp of David’s wooden hand plane.Marcus stood at the long workbench, his heavy oilskin coat laid aside for a wool vest, his calloused hands carefully testing the edge of a curved timber scraper. The grey exhaustion of the long road had begun to wash out of his face, replaced by the steady, focused purpose that came from working with good timber alongside men who knew their craft."Keep the angle low on the draw-knife, Marcus," Thomas instructed gently, pointing his hazel stick at the four-inch pine slab mounted on the heavy wooden trestles. "You aren't trying to chop the wood; you're shaving it down un

ARIA'S POVThe dawn broke over the high eastern ridge in a flood of cold, brilliant amber, casting sharp indigo shadows across the snow-draped timber racks.While the upper terrace was still waking to the sweet smell of baking barley bread and roasting chicory from Elizabeth’s kitchen, down in the forge pit the day was already burning hot.A thick column of dark oak-wood smoke curled up from the stone chimney, rising straight into the windless blue sky. Inside the shop, the roar of the broad leather bellows was a rhythmic, pulsing lung driving the coal bed to a shimmering, white-hot intensity that washed the frost clean off the stone walls.Kat stood at the main anvil, her dark leather apron buckled tight, her sleeves rolled up past her elbows to reveal forearms corded with muscle and dusted with fine black charcoal. Beside her, Marcus worked the wooden lever of the secondary bellows, his face flushed red in the radiant glow, his eyes fixed on a two-foot bar of tough, high-carbon scr