Chapter 244
Iris's POV
Sunlight streamed through the gap in my curtains, warming my face as I gradually drifted awake. I blinked lazily, reaching for my phone to check the time. Just past eight.
My body felt heavy with lingering exhaustion, but my mind was strangely at peace. After everything that had happened with the Underwood family—Steven watching his empire crumble, my father's killers finally facing justice—this moment of stillness felt earned. I stretched beneath the sheets, allowing myself to savor it for just a moment longer.
The soft sound of a baby's cry floated up from downstairs, followed by Sebastien's deep, gentle voice. "Shh, princess. Let's not wake your mommy just yet. She needs her rest."
I smiled involuntarily. The tenderness in his tone was still so new to me—this version of Sebastien that existed only in the quiet moments with our children. He was trying to keep them quiet, to let me sleep in. The thought sent an unexpected warmth spreading through my chest.
Slipping on my robe, I padded to the bedroom door and paused, listening. Sebastien was humming something soft and formless to our daughter. The sound was so unexpected, so intimate, that I found myself frozen in the doorway, afraid to interrupt. This feeling of being cared for was both familiar and foreign—a reminder of what I'd been missing for so long.
The ice I'd built around my heart over fifteen years of waiting and planning seemed to be melting, drop by drop, with each of these small moments.
I made my way down the stairs, trying to be quiet. From the landing, I could see William Grey standing in the center of our living room, surrounded by elegantly wrapped gift boxes and bags. Each one bore the distinctive silver wrapping of the Grey family's preferred gift shop. Sebastien stood nearby, our daughter cradled in one arm while he bent to lift our son from his bassinet. His face registered clear exasperation.
"Grandfather, you just brought gifts two days ago," Sebastien said, his voice a mixture of respect and frustration. "They're infants. They don't need more toys."
"Nonsense," William waved him off, his eyes crinkling with delight. "These are my first great-grandchildren. Besides, this one"—he pointed to a large box—"is educational. It plays classical music to develop their brains."
I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. For all his reputation as the formidable Alpha of the Grey pack, William turned into an absolute softie around the twins.
I made my way down the remaining stairs, and Sebastien turned at the sound, his eyes lighting up in a way that still caught me off guard.
"You're awake," he said. "I was hoping you'd sleep longer. After dealing with everything, you must be exhausted."
"I slept well," I replied, reaching for our daughter. Her tiny weight settled against my chest, warm and comforting. "Better than I have in a long time."
Standing by the window with my daughter in my arms, I watched as a procession of luxury cars turned into our neighborhood. Ten, twelve, fifteen vehicles—all bearing the Grey family crest. Neighbors stopped on the sidewalk, phones out, clearly wondering what celebrity or dignitary might be visiting.
"Is your grandfather planning to relocate the entire Grey family here?" I asked Sebastien, half-joking as I turned toward him.
He came to stand beside me, our son now sleeping peacefully against his shoulder. "He's excited. This is his first time hosting a proper celebration for the twins." His free arm slipped around my waist, and I found myself leaning into his warmth without thinking.
I glanced at my phone, notifications lighting up the screen. The neighborhood chat group was buzzing with speculation.
Is someone getting engaged? That's more cars than when the mayor visited!
Another neighbor had posted: Grey family gathering at the new couple's house—anyone know what's going on?
"They're going to think we're planning some kind of royal event," I murmured, amused despite myself.
Sebastien's breath was warm against my ear. "Grandfather is too excited to contain himself. He's never experienced this before—seeing his great-grandchildren celebrated. It matters to him."
I nodded, not pulling away from his touch. "It's good. They deserve this."
The living room was soon filled with family members from both sides. Our twins were passed carefully from one set of arms to another, receiving kisses and coos from their extended family. Remarkably, they stayed calm throughout, as if sensing the importance of the occasion.
"It's amazing," our housekeeper whispered to me as she passed with a tray of coffee. "The little ones woke up so early today, but they've been angels. Almost like they knew it would be a special day."
I smiled in agreement, watching as Jack Lowell held my son, his weathered face transformed by joy. My gaze swept across the room, taking in all the faces—some that had been strangers just months ago, now connected to me through my children.
A sudden ache bloomed in my chest. If only my father could have been here to see this. He would have been just like William and Jack, spoiling his grandchildren, teaching them about the family business before they could even walk. My eyes grew damp before I could stop them.
Sebastien appeared at my side, his hand finding mine. "You okay?" he asked quietly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
I took a deep breath, pushing back the grief that still caught me unawares sometimes. "Just thinking about things," I said, forcing a smile. "It's fine."
He squeezed my hand gently, his eyes saying he understood. Sometimes his perceptiveness still startled me.
Ethan approached, my son cradled expertly in his arms. "This little guy has quite a grip," he said, smiling as tiny fingers wrapped around his much larger one. "Strong, just like his mother."
Later, I slipped out to the back patio for some air, finding William and Jack in deep conversation. They didn't notice me at first.
"We should organize a proper celebration," William was saying. "The children have been welcomed, but we need to make it official."
Jack looked concerned. "Won't it be too much commotion? The twins are still so young."
"We can keep it intimate," William insisted. "Just close friends and family. But this is unprecedented—we need to mark the occasion properly."
I was about to interject when I felt Sebastien's presence behind me. "What do you think?" he asked quietly. "About a celebration?"
I considered it, watching the two elderly men who had become such fixtures in our lives. Their enthusiasm was touching, even if the idea of a formal event seemed overwhelming so soon after everything that had happened.
"A small gathering would be nice," I said finally. "Mostly for them." I nodded toward William and Jack. "And it would be good for the twins, too. A proper welcome."
I stepped forward, making my presence known to the two men. "If you're planning a celebration, I think that sounds wonderful—as long as we keep it manageable."
William's face lit up. "Of course, my dear. Nothing too extravagant."
Jack chuckled. "By Grey standards, that still means half the pack will be invited."
As we all laughed, I felt Sebastien's hand settle on the small of my back. The gesture was casual, protective, natural. It struck me then how different this moment was from where I'd been just months ago—consumed by plans for revenge, isolated, cold. Now, surrounded by family, with justice finally served for my father, I felt something I'd almost forgotten: I felt whole.