Chapter 28

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of Emilia's penthouse, casting a golden glow across the room. Emilia lay wrapped in the silk sheets, her hair a wild halo on the pillow. Sebastian watched her in silence, his arm behind his head, the other resting gently across her waist, there was peace between them. No secrets. No masks. Just them.

She stirred slightly, eyes blinking open to find his gaze already on her.

"Good morning," she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.

She gave a sleepy smirk.

Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a different kind of intimacy now—no longer defined by hunger or desperation. It was warm, tethering. Safe.

As they shared a quiet breakfast, Emilia's phone buzzed. She hesitated, looking at the screen, then answered with a clipped, professional tone. After a short exchange, she ended the call and looked at Sebastian.

"I met Charles," she said carefully.

His brow arched. "Your brother Charles?"

"He's been working quietly with the family board," she explained. "And he claims to have evidence that could help us dismantle every other grip from the inside."

Sebastian nodded slowly, setting down his coffee. "You trust him?"

"I don't know yet. But I have to try."

He studied her for a long moment, then reached for her hand across the table. "Whatever happens, please don't let you guard down

She squeezed his fingers. "I know."

Emilia stood by the kitchen island, barefoot and dressed in one of Sebastian's shirts that hung loosely on her frame. The soft morning light spilled across the polished marble, casting a glow over her thoughtful expression. Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, watching her with quiet affection.

"You want to say something? Just spit it out. I can tell when something's bothering you."

She gave a small, sheepish smile. "Is it that obvious?" she replied," signed"

"Too many thoughts. Too many… feelings."

He walked over, standing behide her. "Want to talk about it?"

She turned to face him, her eyes steady. "I've been thinking about us. About everything we've been through—and what's ahead."

Sebastian tilted his head. "Go on."

"I know you're cautious," she said, stepping closer, "but we've been dancing around this long enough. You stay here most nights anyway. We're already building something together… why not live like it?"

Sebastian let out a low breath. "You're asking me to move in."

"I'm asking you to let yourself belong somewhere, Sebastian," she said softly, her fingers brushing his. "With me."

There was a long pause. The kind that held a lifetime of silent fears and quiet hopes.

"I've never had a place that felt safe," he admitted. "But when I'm with you—it does."

"Then stay," she whispered, sliding her arms around his waist. "Let's stop pretending we're still living separate lives when our hearts already made the choice."

He kissed her forehead, then rested his chin there for a moment.

"Alright," he said. "I'm in. All in."

Emilia smiled against his chest, the warmth of his answer wrapping around her. In that moment, they weren't just lovers caught in the chaos of power and betrayal—they were a team. A home. A future.

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a sly grin. "So… ?"

Sebastian smirked. "I'm starving. But not for food."

Before she could reply, he lifted her onto the kitchen counter. She gasped, laughing softly as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

"Here?" she asked, voice breathless.

"Here," he growled, already tugging her shirt over her head. "I need you now."

His mouth found hers—hungry, commanding. She responded just as fiercely, fingers clawing at his shirt, pulling it off. Their bodies collided with heat and urgency, like the world outside didn't matter anymore.

Sebastian's hands roamed her thighs, pushing her panties aside as his mouth trailed down her jaw, her neck, her chest. She arched into him, nails digging into his shoulders.

"God, I love you ," she whispered, breath hot against his skin.

"I'm just giving you what you want," he said, positioning himself between her legs. "What we both need."

He slid into her in one deep, aching thrust. She gasped, clutching the edge of the counter as he moved inside her—hard, steady, real. The kitchen filled with soft moans, harsh breaths, and the quiet slap of skin on skin. No games. No hesitation.

Just them.

He kissed her like she was his oxygen. She held him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered into her ear, hips rolling harder. "You're mine, Emilia."

She moaned his name, back arching as she met every thrust. "Yours," she gasped. "Always."

The climax hit them fast—sharp, messy, overwhelming. And when it passed, he rested his forehead against hers, still inside her, both of them catching their breath.

The world was chaos, but in that kitchen, on that counter, they found something steady.

Each other.

And as the morning sun rose higher, casting gold across the city skyline beyond her windows, Emilia knew one thing for certain: they were finally standing on solid ground.

Together.