Chapter 233

Chapter 233
Sophia

The plane touched down at Heathrow with a gentle bump that stirred Jasper from his sleep. He immediately started fussing, his tiny face scrunching up in preparation for what would surely be an epic meltdown. I couldn't blame him—after seven hours in the air, I was ready for a goddamn meltdown of my own.

"Is Daddy coming to get us at the airport?" Lily asked, her blue eyes—so much like Blake's—wide with excitement as she bounced in her seat despite the "fasten seatbelt" sign still glowing overhead.

"Honey, Daddy's probably in meetings right now," I explained, trying to keep my voice steady as I jiggled Jasper in my arms. "He said he'd meet us later."

Lily's face fell slightly, but she nodded with that solemn understanding that sometimes broke my heart. At five years old, she'd already learned that Blake's work often came first.

As we taxied to the gate, the medical team that had accompanied us on the flight handed Jasper back to me. The pediatric nurse gave me a reassuring smile.

"He did wonderfully, Mrs. Sterling. His oxygen levels remained stable throughout the flight."

"Thank you," I said, genuine gratitude washing over me. "I don't know if we could have made this trip without your help."

Once the seatbelt sign turned off, I switched into command mode despite my exhaustion. "Okay everyone, let's line up in the aisle. Lily and Emma, stay together and hold hands."

I gathered our passports and entry documents with my free hand while balancing Jasper against my shoulder. My head throbbed like someone was taking a damn jackhammer to my skull, and I could feel my blood pressure rising—not a good sign. The medication I'd taken before landing wasn't kicking in fast enough. Just get through customs, I told myself. Then you can collapse in a heap somewhere.

As we made our way through the VIP lane of British immigration, my vision blurred slightly at the edges. Shit. Not now. I blinked hard, forcing myself to focus on the officer stamping our documents.

When we finally emerged into the arrivals hall, I was planning our route to the car service when I heard a familiar voice.

"Hey, munchkins! Surprise! Welcome to London!"

My heart stuttered as Blake stood there, hands in the pockets of his impeccably tailored British suit, looking more handsome than should be legal. The children squealed with delight, rushing toward him. Lily and Emma immediately attached themselves to his legs.

"Mom said you'd be in an important meeting," she said, her voice filled with wonder.

Blake crouched down to her eye level. "I postponed my meeting with the Kairo board. Some things are more important." He looked up at me over the children's heads, his eyes softening. "Like picking up my family."

Something tightened in my chest, and I had to blink back sudden tears. Damn hormones and medications making me emotional. Fuck. This was not the time to get all weepy over a simple gesture.

Blake noticed immediately, his brow furrowing as he stood. "You look exhausted, Soph. Blood pressure acting up again?"

I nodded reluctantly as he approached, gently taking Jasper from my arms and passing him to Mateo. Before I could protest, Blake pulled me into a light embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne—expensive and distinctly British now—made me dizzy in a completely different way.

"Transatlantic flight plus medical issues," I admitted quietly against his chest. "My blood pressure's been a little unstable. I feel like absolute shit, if I'm being honest."

His arm tightened around my waist. "Let's get you somewhere you can rest."

---

I woke disoriented, blinking at unfamiliar stone walls hung with what appeared to be actual medieval tapestries. The room was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, and through leaded glass windows, I could see meticulously manicured English gardens and rolling countryside hills beyond.

For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was or how I'd gotten here. Then it all came flooding back—the airport, Blake's surprise appearance, the way my vision had gone spotty in the car... Oh fuck, did I actually pass out? How embarrassing.

My headache had receded, and the dizziness was gone, but my stomach growled fiercely like some angry beast. How long had I been asleep? I pushed myself up against plush pillows and noticed a silver tray on the bedside table holding a pot of English breakfast tea—my favorite—and my blood pressure medication arranged precisely how I liked it.

The sound of laughter echoed from somewhere downstairs, the high voices of the children bouncing off what must be very high ceilings. I recognized Blake's deeper laugh joining theirs, the sound warming something inside me I hadn't realized was cold. Damn him for still having that effect on me after everything.

I managed to make my way downstairs, following the sounds of my family to what could only be described as a great hall.

"Mom!" Lily spotted me first, racing over with her usual boundless energy. "We're in a real castle with secret passages! And suits of armor! And Dad showed us where knights used to eat!"

I smiled, running a hand through her hair. "Did he now?"

Mateo approached more calmly. "The stonework is at least two hundred years old. The craftsmanship is impressive."

Susan tugged at my hand. "Wanna see our pictures?" She thrust an iPad at me, tiny fingers swiping through photos of ancient portraits and, indeed, full suits of armor standing in corridors.

Blake appeared at my side, looking more British than I'd ever seen him—his suit was cut differently, more formal, and even his speech patterns had subtly shifted to accommodate his surroundings.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice lowering as the children became distracted by something Emma was showing them.

"Better," I admitted. "Just fucking starving now." I immediately glanced around to make sure none of the kids had heard my slip.

His smile was genuine, reaching his eyes in a way I hadn't seen in weeks. "Perfect timing. Dinner's almost ready—a proper English feast ."

As we moved toward what Blake called "the dining room"—really a cavernous space with a fireplace large enough to roast an entire cow—I found myself watching him interact with the children. There was an ease to him here that had been missing in New York, as if the distance from Sterling headquarters had somehow lifted a weight from his shoulders. Or maybe it was just the absence of his mother's suffocating influence. God, that woman was a nightmare.

The family gathered around a massive oak table, where a traditional meal awaited us—Wellington beef, Yorkshire pudding, and seasonal vegetables from the estate's garden. Blake encouraged everyone to try each dish, his pride obvious as the children sampled the unfamiliar food.

"This is delicious," I said after tasting the beef. "So authentic."

Blake watched my reaction with interest.

Later, after Blake had led the children to their respective bedrooms in the castle's west wing, I stood feeding Jasper in the nursery that had been prepared for him.

"This might seem strange to you," I whispered to my baby, "but I hope you sleep well tonight. God knows one of us should."

When Blake found me on the castle tower's terrace afterward, I was gazing out at the peaceful English countryside, scattered lights from distant villages twinkling in the darkness. The cool night air felt good against my skin.

"You still look tired," he said, joining me at the stone railing.

"I am," I admitted. "But also... wary. This whole situation feels surreal as hell."

Blake nodded, looking out at the view. "The quiet here gives me time to think about many things," he said after a long moment. "But seeing all of you—it feels like I've found a piece of myself again."

I didn't respond, unsure what pieces of Blake were real and which were adaptations to his surroundings. But as we stood there in silence, I allowed myself to lean slightly against his solid presence, just for a moment, hating myself a little for still needing that connection.