Sweet Hatred-Chapter 452: Future Home

KAEL

I woke before her.

Not unusual. I rarely slept deeply anymore. But this morning was different.

I lay there watching Aria sleep, my chest tight with an anxiety I couldn’t quite shake.

Last night had reminded me too much of the hospital. Of finding her on the floor, unable to breathe, begging me to make it stop. Telling me she wanted to die.

I’d thought we were past that. Thought she was healing.

But the panic attack in the middle of the night... the way she’d trembled in my arms, gasping for air, begging me not to die... it had shaken something loose in me.

Fear.

Raw, visceral fear that I was going to lose her.

Not to Sarah. Not to some external threat.

But to the darkness in her own mind. To trauma and terror I couldn’t fight with money or power or violence.

She stirred slightly, her face pressing into my chest, and I forced myself to take a slow breath.

She was okay. She was here. She was safe.

I had to believe that.

I reached for my phone carefully, trying not to wake her, and sent a text to Niko.

Triple security on the building. All floors. I want reports every two hours. No exceptions. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

His response came immediately.

Done. Everything alright, sir?

I didn’t answer that. Just set the phone down and pulled Aria closer.

She woke about twenty minutes later, blinking slowly, her golden eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Morning," I murmured, brushing hair off her face.

"Morning," she said, her voice rough.

We lay there in comfortable silence for a moment.

Then she said quietly, "I’m sorry. About last night."

"Don’t." I tilted her face up to look at me. "Don’t apologize for having a panic attack."

"But—"

"No buts. You had a nightmare. You were scared. That’s not something you need to apologize for."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she just nodded and buried her face back in my chest.

I held her, trying to ease the worry gnawing at my gut.

"Coffee?" I offered after a while.

"Tea," she said. "The baby book said too much caffeine is bad."

Right. The baby.

Our baby.

The thought still made something warm and terrifying bloom in my chest.

I ordered something... apparently the storm had eased enough for full service to resume and we settled back in bed to wait.

My phone buzzed.

Victoria Marlowe. My real estate broker.

I have several properties that match your specifications. Sending details now.

Perfect timing.

"Hey," I said to Aria. "Remember I said I wanted us to look at houses?"

She nodded, sitting up slightly.

"My broker just sent over some options. Want to look?"

Her eyes lit up in a way that made my chest feel too tight. "Really?"

"Really."

I grabbed my laptop from the nightstand and opened it, pulling up the email Victoria had sent.

Four properties. All carefully selected based on the specifications I’d given her. Security. Space. Privacy. Room for a family.

Aria scooted closer, her shoulder pressing against mine as we looked at the screen together.

Property One: Coastal Modern Estate

Glass and steel. Clean lines. Massive windows overlooking the ocean.

12,000 square feet. Private beach access. Chef’s kitchen that looked like something out of a magazine. Infinity pool. Home theater.

"It’s beautiful," Aria said slowly. "But... is it too modern? For a baby?"

I looked at the images again, trying to see what she was seeing.

She was right. It was stunning. But cold somehow. More showpiece than home.

"Next one," I said, clicking forward.

Property Two: Historic Family Manor

This one made Aria pause.

19th-century restoration. 15 acres of manicured gardens. Stone exterior with ivy climbing the walls.

10 bedrooms. A library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A conservatory filled with light. Nursery space with huge arched windows.

Aria lingered on the photos of the gardens. Her finger traced the screen absently.

"This is beautiful," she murmured.

I made a mental note. She liked this one.

Property Three: Mountain Compound

Secluded. 50 acres of land. Gated entrance with serious security infrastructure.

Main house plus a separate guest house.

"For Olivia?" Aria asked, pointing at the guest house.

"If she wanted," I said. "Or for guests. Or just extra space."

She nodded slowly, studying the images.

"This looks... safe," she said.

And I understood immediately what she meant.

Remote. Protected. Defensible.

Away from threats. Away from Sarah.

Safe.

Property Four: Countryside Estate

200 acres. Working farm. Stables.

Renovated farmhouse with modern interior. Huge kitchen. Wrap-around porch.

Space for kids to run. For animals. For family to visit and never feel crowded.

"I could see us here," Aria said softly.

I looked at her profile as she studied the images.

She was planning our future. Thinking about nurseries and guest rooms and space for her sister.

Talking about "our home" like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her hand drifted to her stomach unconsciously, resting there like she was already protecting the life growing inside her.

She was glowing. Literally glowing. Skin luminous in the morning light, eyes bright with possibility.

This was the woman carrying my child. Choosing where we’d raise our family.

The overwhelming rush of gratitude and love and possessiveness that hit me nearly knocked the breath from my lungs.

I wanted to give her everything. Every single property she was looking at and a hundred more. Wanted to build her a palace if that’s what she wanted. Wanted to lay the entire world at her feet and tell her to take whatever she needed.

"So?" I managed to say. "Which ones do you like?"

She bit her lip, thinking. "Can we narrow it down to two or three? To actually visit?"

"Of course."

She went back through the listings, studying each one carefully.

Finally, she pointed. "The manor. The mountain compound. And the countryside estate. Those three."

"Done," I said immediately. "We’ll visit them after the storm clears."

"When is that?"

"Tomorrow. And tomorrow is also—"

"My birthday," she said, her eyes widening slightly. "I completely forgot."

"I didn’t."

She turned to look at me fully. "Kael, you don’t have to—"

"I know I don’t have to. I want to." I closed the laptop and set it aside. "We’ll tour the houses. Then I have something planned for the evening."

"What?"

"You’ll see."

She studied my face, trying to read me. Then she smiled.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For letting me choose. For including me in this."

"It’s your home too," I said. "Our home. Of course you get to choose."

Something in her expression shifted. Softened. Her eyes went suspiciously bright.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too."

She closed the distance between us and kissed me.

Soft and intimate and full of promise.

When she pulled back, she was smiling. Really smiling. The kind that reached her eyes and made them crinkle at the corners.

"So," she said, her tone shifting to something playful. "We have the whole day. Storm’s still going. What should we do?"

I looked at her—rumpled from sleep, wearing my shirt, looking at me like I was the answer to every question she’d ever had.

"I can think of a few things," I said, pulling her back into my arms.

She laughed, the sound bright and beautiful and everything I needed to hear.

And as I kissed her again, the anxiety from earlier eased just slightly.

She was okay. We were okay.

And tomorrow, we’d start building the life we both deserved.

Together.