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    <b>Chapter </b><b>170 </b>


    -HUNTER-


    I found Celine exactly where I had left her an hour ago–curled up on our bed, staring at nothing. She had barely spoken since we had returned from Queens, and the silence was killing me.


    She had showered and changed into one of my old Columbia t–shirts and a pair of soft leggings, but there was still something breakable about the way she held herself.


    Like she was afraid that moving too quickly might shatter whatever peace she had managed to find.


    “Celine?” I knocked softly on the doorframe.


    She turned her head toward me, and I was relieved to see that her eyes looked clearer than they had earlier.


    Not happy, but notpletely devastated either.


    “Caesar’s back,” I said. “ra dropped him off a few minutes ago. He’s asking for you.”


    A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth–the first real expression I had seen from her all day.


    “Where is he?”


    “Living room. But he’s covered in paint from ra’s art project, so fair warning.”


    She sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. “I should go see him.”


    “Actually,” I said, stepping into the room, “I have a better idea.”


    Twenty minutester, I was helping Caesar out of his paint–stained clothes in his bathroom while Celine watched from the doorway, a genuine smile finally reaching her eyes.


    “Daddy, took!” Caesar held up his hands, which were still streaked with blue and yellow paint. “ra taught me how to make green!”


    “That’s amazing, buddy.” I lifted him into the bathtub, where/‘d already run a warm bath with his favorite bubble bath. “You’re going to be a great artist like Mommy.”


    “Mommy is amazing?<b>” </b>Caesar looked at Celine with wide eyes.


    “Yes she is,” I said, catching her gaze in the mirror. “She’s very great at it.”


    Celine’s face grew dreamy. “That was a long time ago.”


    “Not that long,” I said quietly.


    Caesar sshed happily in the bubbles, chattering about his day with ra while I helped wash the paint from his hair.


    In the mirror, I noticed Celine rxing more as she watched our son y. Her shoulders became less tense.


    This was what I had been hoping for.


    Normal Family.


    The kind of simple happiness that could help heal whatever damage the Brown family had inflicted today.


    “Mommy, rame eft


    Seas demanded, poleting to the edge of the tot


    Celine nced at me, and I nodded encouragingly.


    She moved to sit on the bathroom floor beside the tub, letting Caesar ssh water on her hands while he told her about the picture he’d painted for her.


    “It’s a butterfly,” he said seriously. “ra said butterflies are pretty like you<i>* </i>


    “I can’t wait to see it,” Celine said, and for the first time today, her voice soundedpletely genuine.


    After Caesar was clean, dressed in his pajamas, and settled in the living room with his art supplies to recreate his butterfly masterpiece, found Celine in the kitchen making tea.


    “How are you feeling?” I asked, leaning against the counter.


    “Better.” She poured hot water over the tea bag, her movements careful and intentional. “Thank you. For earlier. For finding me, for bringing


    me home.”


    “You don’t need to thank me for that.”


    “I do.” She turned to face me, holding the mug between her hands like she was drawingfort from its warmth. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. About having a real family now.”


    “And<b>?</b><b>” </b>


    “I think you’re right.” She took a sip of her tea.


    “Caesar and I….we’ve been on our own for so long that I forgot what it felt like to have someone who woulde looking for me when I disappeared.”


    Something tight in my chest loosened at her words.


    “I made reservations for dinner,” I said. “Nothing fancy. That Italian ce Caesar likes, the one with the crayons and the breadsticks.”


    Her face brightened. “Really?”


    “Unless you would rather stay in. I just thought… we could use a normal family evening. The three of us.”


    “I would love that.” She set down her mug and moved closer to me. “Hunter?”


    “Yeah?”


    “I’m sorry I scared you today. I’m sorry I went alone.”


    I reached up to cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing across her cheekbones. “Promise me something.”


    “What?”


    “Promise me that from now on, when something is eating you alive, you’ll tell me. Even if you think you need to handle it alone. Even if you’re not ready to talk about it. Just… tell me you’re struggling, and let me be there.”


    “I promise.” She leaned into my touch. “But only if you promise me something too.”


    4341


    “Anything.”


    “Promise me you’ll stop treating me like I’m made of ss. I know you want to protect me, but I need to know you believe I’m strong enough to handle whateveres next.”


    1 studied her face the determination in her brown eyes, the stubborn set of her jaw that I’d fallen in love with.


    She was right. She was stronger than I gave her credit for.


    “I promise,” I said, and meant it.


    She stood on her tiptoes and kissed me, soft and sweet and full of gratitude.


    “Daddy! Mommy! Come look!”


    We broke apart,ughing, and headed back to the living room where Caesar was holding up histest creation–a butterfly that was mostly purple with wings that looked suspiciously like handprints.


    “It’s beautiful, sweetheart,” Celine said, crouching down to Caesar’s level. “Can we hang it on the refrigerator?”


    “Yes! And I want to make one for baby sister too!”


    Celine’s hand went automatically to her stomach, her expression softening. “Baby sister would love that.”


    ~CELINE~


    Dinner at Rosetta’s was exactly what my soul needed.


    Caesar charmed our waitress by asking if they had “the special breadsticks that taste like heaven,” while Hunter quietly made sure I actually ate something instead of just pushing food around my te. <fne7f6> Fresh chapters posted on find?novel</fne7f6>


    The restaurant was busy but not overwhelming, filled with the kind of families we were pretending to be–normal people with normal problems; not billionaires dealing with ckmail schemes and identity crises.


    “Mommy, try this!” Caesar held out a forkful of spaghetti, sauce dripping dangerously close to his clean shirt.


    “Careful, buddy,” Hunter said, reaching over with a napkin. “We want to keep Mommy’s clothes clean.”


    I took the bite Caesar offered, making exaggerated appreciative noises that made him giggle. “Delicious. You have excellent taste, Mr. Brown.”


    “It’s Mr. Reid,” Caesar corrected seriously.


    The words hit me like a gentle shock. In all the chaos of the past few days, I’d forgotten that Caesar had started calling himself by Hunter’sst name.


    “Is that what you want?” I asked carefully. “To pe Caesar Reid?”


    He nodded enthusiastically. “Like Daddy. We’re a family.”


    I looked across the table at Hunter, who was watching us both with an expression I couldn’t quite read.


    “We are a family,” I agreed. “A very good family.”


    After dinner, we walked slowly back to the car, Caesar between us, his small hands holding onto both of ours.


    The evening air was warm<b>, </b>and for the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe properly.


    “Ice cream?” Hunter suggested that we pass a gto shop.


    “Can we, Mommy? Please?” Caesar bounced on his toes.


    “Just a small one,” I said, unable to resist his excitement.


    We sat on a bench outside the shop, Caesar between us again, his face covered in chocte gto while he told us about a book ra had read to him about a brave knight who saved a dragon from a mean king.


    “The dragon wasn’t scary,” he exined seriously. “He was just sad because nobody liked him.”


    <b>“</b>That’s a good story,” Hunter said. “Sometimes people who seem scary are just misunderstood.”


    “Like monsters under the bed?<b>” </b>


    “Exactly like that.”


    I watched them talk, my heart full in a way it hadn’t been in years. This was what happiness felt like.


    Not the desperate, clinging kind had grown up with, but the steady, certain kind that came from being unconditionally loved.


    My phone buzzed with a text message. I nced at it expecting something Caroline–rted, but the number was strange.


    ‘This isn’t over, Some secrets are worth more than others. – M‘


    My blood ran cold. Margaret.


    Hunter noticed my change in expression immediately. “What is it?”


    I showed him the phone, watching his face darken as he read the message.


    “Daddy, what’s wrong?” Caesar had finished his gto and was looking between us with concern.


    “Nothing’s wrong, buddy,” Hunter said, his voice carefully controlled. “Mommy just got a message from someone we don’t need to worry


    about.”


    But I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his free hand had clenched into a fist,


    “She’s not going to stop,” I said quietly.


    “She will,” Hunter said, his voice carrying a promise. “I’ll make sure of it.”


    As we walked back to the car, Caesar chattering about wanting to draw a picture of the brave knight’s dragon, I felt a heavy feeling settle over me again as I anticipated what wasing..


    But this time, I wasn’t facing it alone.


    This time, I had a family who would fight for me.


    ~HUNTER~


    After Caesar was tucked into bed with his new butterfly picture taped to the wall beside his nightlight, I found Celine on the penthouse balcony, wrapped in one of my sweaters and staring out at the city lights.


    “She’s really not going to strip, is she? the aid without turning around


    “Not on her own, no “I moved to stand beside her, close enough that she could lean against me if she wanted to “But Dere found something today About Margaret’s rtionship with your mother


    She turned to look at me. “What kind of rtionship?”


    “Margaret’s been ckmailing Patricia for years. Small amounts, but regr payments. Derek thinks Margaret might have been the one who told your father’s employer about the affair, which cost him a promotion and probably contributed to the family’s financial problems.”


    Celine was quiet for a long moment, processing this information.


    “So this isn’t just about money,” she said finally. “It’s about revenge.”


    “Against your mother, yes. But somehow you’ve be the target.”


    “Because I’m the visible proof of the affair.” Her voice was calm, analytical. “I’m the reminder she can use to hurt Patricia.”


    I nodded. “But here’s the thing about ckmailers, Celine. They only have power if you care about the secret they’re threatening to expose.”


    “What do you mean?”


    I turned to face her fully.


    “You’ve already faced the worst of it. You know the truth about your parentage, and you’ve cut ties with the people who used it to hurt you. What can Margaret actually threaten you with now?”


    A slow smile spread across her face. “Nothing. She can’t threaten me with nothing.”


    “Exactly.” I pulled her into my arms, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.


    “Tomorrow, we’ll deal with Margaret Torres. Tonight, we’re just a family who had dinner and gto and came home to our son’s artwork on the refrigerator.”


    She melted against me, her arms wrapping around my waist.


    “I love you,” she said into my chest. “I love our life. I love our family.”


    “I love you too.” I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “All of you. Exactly as you are.”


    Standing there on the balcony, holding the woman I loved while our son slept safely inside, I made a silent promise.


    Margaret Torres had picked the wrong family to mess with.


    And tomorrow, she was going to find out exactly what happened to people who threatened what was mine.