Chapter 8 - A New Foundation
Back in the Belle Meade estate, the nursery was finally nearing completion.
The afternoon sun streamed through the large bay windows, casting warm golden rectangles across the pale hardwood floor. A crib made of polished white oak sat against the far wall, flanked by shelves filled with classic children’s books and soft stuffed animals.
Khloe sat comfortably in a plush rocking chair, a soft knit blanket draped over her lap, gently rubbing her stomach as she watched Marcus assemble a complex mobile of planets and stars to hang above the crib.
"Are you sure you want to handle that screwdriver yourself, Mr. Billionaire?" Khloe teased softly, a bright, genuine smile lighting up her face. "Shouldn't you be outsourcing this to a certified contractor?"
Marcus paused, wiping a mock bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm, grinning back at her. "Some things are too important to outsource, Mrs. Thorne. Besides, Uncle Arthur offered to help, and I refused just so I could prove I know how to use tools."
Khloe laughed, a light, musical sound that filled the room with warmth.
The trauma of that night in the hospital suite had not vanished completely—the memory of the cold marble floor and the suffocating terror of that moment would always linger as a scar. But scars proved that wounds healed. They proved strength.
Marcus walked over, knelt beside her rocking chair, and placed his large, warm hand gently over her stomach. Instantly, a soft kick thumped against his palm.
Marcus’s eyes lit up with a profound, quiet wonder that never failed to melt Khloe’s heart. "He's strong," Marcus whispered. "Just like his mother."
"He's going to be safe," Khloe corrected gently, running her fingers through Marcus’s dark hair. "Because we won't let anyone ever hurt this family again."
May you like
"Never," Marcus agreed, leaning up to kiss her lips tenderly.
Outside, the grand iron gates of the estate remained closed to the venom, the gossip, and the artificial glamour of high society. Inside, bathed in the golden light of an afternoon that belonged entirely to them, the Thorne family was unbreakable.
