Chapter 133
Chapter 133
VENUS
The ride home felt too quiet.
Maybe because I was waiting for my chest to stop aching from everything Aaron had just said.
Spoiler: it didn’t.
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The elevator ride up felt too quiet. The thing about hospitals is they have a way of keeping you in this half- suspended state, like you’re wrapped in gauze and muffled sound. Stepping into the penthouse was like the bandages came off all at once.
The air was warmer here. Lived in.
The faint scent of rosemary bread, coffee, and something sweet-vanilla maybe-wrapped around me before I even stepped forward. And then… the noise.
Not the hospital’s low, sterile hum.
Not the beeping of monitors or the squeak of nurses’ shoes.
Laughter.
Soft chatter.
The shuffle of someone’s feet on polished wood.
It was so normal that it knocked the breath out of me.
I didn’t expect them all to be here. Honestly, I thought maybe Gianna would be waiting, maybe Connor, maybe one or two others if Aaron had warned them I was coming. But they were all here. All of them.
Connor was leaning against the marble island like he’d been born there, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on the elevator the second it dinged. Gianna sat at the bar with her mug, smiling into the rim while looking at Lucien. Sabine stood near the windows, arms folded, chin tilted, watching with this unreadable softness in
her eyes.
Rosemary. God, Aaron’s mother looked like she’d stepped out of a portrait, elegance radiating from her even in the simplest silk blouse. Beside her stood a tall, broad-shouldered man I’d only seen once-Silas-and next to him… Alana peeking at me from behind his arm like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to come closer yet.
Jude was sprawled on the sectional like a cat who owned the place, watching the scene unfold with lazy interest.
It was too much.
I didn’t even realize Aaron had placed his hand at the small of my back until he gave a gentle push forward.
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Chapter 133
His touch was warm. Steady. A reminder that I wasn’t about to be swallowed whole.
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Gianna was the first to move. She set her mug down and crossed the room in three quick strides, wrapping me in a hug so firm I could feel her heartbeat against my ribs. “It’s good to have you back,” she murmured into my hair, her voice breaking slightly.
I froze for half a second before my arms came up to return the gesture. She smelled like coffee and something citrusy. Comforting in a way that made my throat ache.
Connor followed. He didn’t say much-just pulled me into a half-hug, one arm slung over my shoulder, the other braced against my back like he thought I might collapse. “I had to put up with this grouch while you were gone, Don’t make us do that again, okay?” he said, and I could hear the protective warning under his light tone.
Sabine didn’t hug me right away. She stepped close enough to cup my face in both hands, scanning my expression like she was checking for damage no one else could see. “Don’t scare me like that again,” she said, and though her voice was calm, there was a fracture in it, small but sharp.
Rosemary moved next, all warmth and grace. She kissed my cheek lightly, her perfume curling around me in a way that made me feel small, not in a bad way but in that rare, dizzying way you feel when someone older and wiser makes room for you in their world. “Welcome home, darling,” she said, and she meant it. I could hear it in the way her voice wrapped around the word home.
Silas nodded to me in quiet acknowledgment, but my attention snagged on the girl beside him.
Alana.
She stepped out from behind his leg slowly, eyes locked on me with a mix of shyness and determination. There was something in her expression-earnest, open-that made my chest tighten. She didn’t hesitate for long. In three small steps, she was in front of me, and then her arms were around my waist.
It was gentle, tentative-like she wasn’t sure if I’d break—but it undid me completely.
“I missed you,” she whispered into
my
shirt.
And that was it. My ribs caved, my throat closed, and before I could think about stopping it, the tears came. Hot. Relentless.
I bent down so I could hug her properly, my arms curling around her small frame. “I missed you too,” I whispered back.
In that moment, I realized something brutal and undeniable.
My own mother had never loved me like this.
Not like Rosemary did, just by showing up.
Not like Gianna and Sabine did, by worrying.
Not like Aaron did, by standing there beside me, not letting go.
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Chapter 133
And not like Alana did, without even having to try.
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When Alana pulled back, she smiled up at me. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t the cautious, measured affection adults. give when they’re afraid to overstep. It was pure.
It made my chest hurt.
Aaron’s hand was still at my back, steadying me as the room moved again-people shifting, talking, guiding me toward the living area.
The penthouse opened up into a wide living room with walls of glass on two sides. The city stretched out below, glittering in the dusk. I’d always thought views like this were for people too untouchable to feel anything real. But here I was, barefoot on their plush rug, my hospital bag by the elevator, my heartbeat loud in my ears, surrounded by people who didn’t just tolerate my presence-they’d been waiting for it.
The noise picked up again-Connor cracking a joke to Jude, Gianna asking if I wanted tea or something stronger, Rosemary offering to fix me a plate of food. Aaron answered for me, “She needs to sit down first,” his tone leaving no room for argument.
I sank into the corner of the sectional, the cushions swallowing me whole. Alana climbed up next to me like it was the most natural thing in the world, her small hand slipping into mine without asking.
It should’ve felt overwhelming.
It should’ve made me want to retreat to the bedroom and shut the door.
Instead… it felt terrifying in a different way.
Because I could feel it-the roots they’d planted while I was gone, winding their way into me without permission.
And the scariest part?
I didn’t want to pull them out.
I’ve never experienced anything like this.
Not with Martha Astor or Dain Astor.
Turns out they only saw me as their cash cow.
If there’s one thing I’m grateful to Martha for,
Is that she’s the reason I have this in the first place.
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Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.