Chapter 268 

+26 BONUS 

I holt upright, drenched in a cold sweat with a scream dying in my rat 

Veronica. A serpent’s tall. Invisible hands pulling me down into an cean of crimson blood 

I reach for Arthur beside me, but my hand finds only rumpled sheet, still warm from his body hear but empty. Panic flares in my chest, made worse by my half–asleep and half–frantle state. Whereas he? Did he 

No. It was just a dream. Author would never 

Before I can come to my senses, I throw off the covers and grab mytube from the book on the bathroom door, cinching it tight around my waist as thurry out of the bedroom. The apartment is quiet except for the faint sounds coming from the kitchen–the clatter of dishes, Miles’s high–pitched giggles, and Arthur’s low voice. 

I follow the sounds, practically falling down the stairs in my haste the scene that greets me in the kitchen instantly melts away the lingering dread from my nightmare. 

Arthur is standing at the stove, flipping pancakes vaguely shaped like turtles and dinosaurs, while Miles sits at the island counter, kicking his legs. Both of them are still in their pajamas–Arthur in just lounge pants, deliciously shirtless, Miles in his 

dinosaur PJ set. 

It’s such a simple, domestic scene, but it fills me with a warmth that chases away the last vestiges of my nightmare. This is real. This is my life now. And Veronica is hardly a part of it. 

Arthur glances up and spots me hovering in the doorway. His face immediately breaks into a smile. “Morning, sleepyhead. Want some pancakes? We’ve got blueberry and chocolate chip ” 

“Blueberry, please,” I say, moving into the kitchen. I drop a kiss on Miles’s head, then lean against Arthur’s side. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close for a quick kiss. 

“You okay?” he asks, studying my face. “You look a little pale, my love.” 

I smile and shake my head. “I’m fine, just a bad dream. 

His brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he flips another pancake onto the growing stack and hands me the plate. “Breakfast is the best cure for bad dreams. That, and coffee.” He nods toward the fresh pot on the counter. 

“Mommy, I got chocolate chips in mine!” Miles announces proudly, showing me his plate where he has absolutely drenched his pancakes in maple syrup. 

“I see that,” I laugh as I pour myself a mug of coffer. “That’s a whole lot of syrup, 

little o 

wolf 

Miles seems unfazed by my comment. Arthur just shrugs as if he’s tried to educate Miles on the proper amount of syrup to use already, but has given up. 

We eat together at the island counter, Miles chattering nonstop about what he wants to do today, Arthur and 1 exchanging glances over his head. Soon, 1 forget my nightmare entirely. 

The next week settles into a comfortable rhythm. Arthur works during the day, although he comes home for lunch when he can. Arthur and 1 schedule a tour at Wellington for next week. 

During that time, I do my best to ignore the occasional online article or social media post about my supposed “tension” with Veronica. It’s frustrating how one captured expression–a momentary grimace I don’t even remember making–has created this whole narrative of jealousy and rivalry between us, even to the point where it affects my dreams. 

for a while. I delete 

After the third day of seeing my name trending alongside Veronicas, I decide to unplug from the inte the social media apps from my phone and ask Arthur not to share any news articles with me unless the absolutely necessary, and we both agree to keep the TV off for a while. 

Chapter 268 

+25 BONUS 

Instead, I focus on what matters–creating new artwork, enjoying my life with Arthur and Miles, and planning for the future, Namely, I brainstorm Ideas for ny next steps as a socialite, artist, and future tama of Ordan. I want to use my platform for good, Justus my mom suggested, and I spend several nights staying up late and working on ideas. 

One evening, as Arthur and I are cleaning up after dinner, finally tell him about the idea that has been formulating in my mind. 

“I want to start a fundraiser,” Tamnounce. 

Arthur looks up from the sink. “For?” 

“Arts education in schools,” I explain. “Icould use my platform as both an artist and.” Thesitate, still not entirely comfortable with the term, “as Lima in raise awareness and funds. I was thinking of starting with a children’s day, with proceeds going to underfunded school art programs.” 

Chapter 209