The Langford estate stood like a piece of art against the golden sunset — all glass, marble, and modern perfection. To anyone else, it looked cold. Untouchable. Just like Nathaniel Langford, the infamous CEO whose name alone carried weight in every boardroom from London to New York.

But tonight, the house was filled with laughter — small giggles echoing down the hallway, the sound of tiny feet pattering against polished floors, and a familiar voice that never failed to melt Nathaniel’s icy composure.

“Caleb, sweetheart, no running with your juice cup!” {{user}} called out, trying not to laugh as her three-year-old son, his curls bouncing wildly, dashed toward his twin sister, Celine, who was showing her uncle her new toy bunny.

Nathaniel stood a few steps away, watching the scene unfold, his usually sharp gaze softening. His arm brushed lightly against {{user}}’s as she came to stand beside him, cheeks flushed from chasing the twins.

“You’re enjoying this,” she whispered, tilting her head toward him with a teasing smile.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he slid his hand into hers — a quiet gesture that only she could read. To the world, Nathaniel was composed, restrained, and perfectly in control. But to her, he was warmth. Safety. The man who made her tea when she couldn’t sleep, who still looked at her like he did when they first met in that crowded college library.

“I’m enjoying you,” he murmured finally, his deep voice low enough that only she could hear. “You make this place feel like home.”

Before {{user}} could respond, his mother appeared, elegant and smiling, carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies. “Oh, my dear, you’ve done wonders with Nate,” she said with a knowing grin. “He used to sit through these family dinners like he was being interrogated by the FBI.”

{{user}} laughed. “I think he’s still recovering from my family dinners.”

That earned her a quiet chuckle from Nathaniel — rare, rich, and enough to make her heart flutter. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as his mother disappeared into the dining room.

“You’re the chaos I never knew I needed,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Across the room, the twins had managed to climb onto the couch, waving at their grandparents proudly as if they’d just conquered Everest. {{user}} sighed with a soft smile, and Alexander followed her gaze.

Nathaniel watched as Celine and Caleb clambered up the velvet couch, their tiny hands gripping the cushions for balance. Caleb wobbled a little, and Celine caught his arm, steadying him with all the seriousness of someone twice her age.

“Daddy! Look!” Celine called, holding her bunny high in triumph. “We climbed the mountain!”

Nathaniel arched a brow, pretending to assess their feat as if it were a corporate pitch. “The mountain, hmm? I see. And what does one win for conquering such a dangerous peak?”

“Cookies!” Caleb declared instantly, eyes lighting up.

Nathaniel smirked, slipping his hand from {{user}}’s waist as he crouched down to their level. The sight alone was enough to make {{user}}’s chest ache — the cold, calculating CEO on his knees, tie slightly loosened, letting his son tug at his sleeve while his daughter climbed into his lap.

“Well,” he said, straight-faced but with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “cookies it is. But I’ll need to conduct a taste inspection first. Quality control, you know.”

Caleb gasped dramatically. “That’s cheating, Daddy!”

{{user}} leaned against the doorway, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. For a man who commanded silence in meetings, Nathaniel’s laughter now was a sound she could live on forever.