---- Chapter 23 Khloe Rojas POV: On the long flight back, a nervous knot tightened in my stomach. Gordon had asked me to come home with him. To meet his parents. "Are you sure?" | asked, my voice small. "Gordon, they're going to Google me. They're going to see... everything. The scandal, the divorce, Julian..." "They're going to see a brilliant, strong, beautiful woman who has been through hell and came out the other side," he said, taking my hand. "My parents are not judgmental people, Khloe. They will love you." | wanted to believe him, but the scars from my past were deep. | felt damaged, tainted. | was the disgraced ex-wife of a notorious criminal. What could a good, decent family possibly want with me? As we walked through the arrivals gate at the airport, | saw them. An older couple, holding a large, hand-painted sign. It read: Welcome home, Gordon & our future daughter-in-law, Khloe! My eyes filled with tears. | laughed, a watery, surprised sound. ---- Gordon' s mother rushed forward and pulled me into a warm, motherly hug. "Oh, you poor dear," she said, her voice kind. "We've been so worried. Are you alright? You're too thin!" The tension in my body, the tension | had been carrying for years, finally began to melt away. For the first time since my own mother died, | felt the unconditional embrace of family. That night, they cooked a huge welcome-home dinner. His mother wouldn't let me lift a finger. "You are our guest," she insisted. "You are family now." After dinner, she pulled me aside and pressed a small, velvet box into my hand. Inside was a beautiful, antique sapphire ting. "This was my grandmother's," she said, her eyes shining. "She told me to give it to the woman who would love my son with her whole heart. | think she would be very happy for it to be you." | looked at Gordon, who was smiling at me from across the room, and then back at his mother. "l promise," | said, my voice thick with emotion, "I will love him with everything | have." Later that evening, Gordon took me to the home he had bought before he left for Al-Tharbia. It was a beautiful house by the sea, with large windows overlooking the ocean. "| bought it for us," he confessed, wrapping his arms around me from behind as we stood on the balcony, the salty air whipping through our hair. "| was always hoping." ---- | leaned back against him, feeling a sense of peace | thought | would never know again. This was home. "| have something for you," he said, leading me into one of the rooms. He flipped on the light. The walls were covered, from floor to ceiling, with photos of me. Not just recent ones, but photos from my entire life. My college graduation. The awards | had won for my architecture. Candid shots of me laughing with friends. He had spent years collecting them, creating a shrine to the woman he loved. Ona desk, there was a stack of letters, hundreds of them, all addressed to me but never sent. Tears streamed down my face as | looked around the room, at this testament to his quiet, patient, unwavering love. He knelt on one knee. "Khloe Rojas," he said, his voice shaking slightly. He opened a small box, revealing a simple, stunning diamond ring. "You are the strongest, bravest, most incredible woman | have ever known. You have survived the unimaginable. | know you've been through a war, in more ways than one. But | want to spend the rest of my life making you feel safe. Making you feel loved. Will you marry me?" "Yes," | sobbed, laughing through my tears. "Yes, of course, yes. He slipped the ring on my finger. It was a perfect fit. ---- We were married on the beach behind our house, surrounded by a small group of friends and family. It wasn't a lavish, society affair like my first wedding. It was simple, and it was real. As | said my vows, looking into Gordon's loving eyes, | knew | had finally, truly come home. In a sterile, white room in a high-security prison, a guard delivered the morning paper to the inmate in cell 3B. Julian Gallegos looked at the photo on the society page. It was a picture of our wedding. Me, in a simple white dress, my face radiant with a joy he had never been able to give me. Gordon, my husband, smiling at my side. The guard said Julian made a small, choking sound. Then he slid to the floor, unconscious. They transferred him to a psychiatric facility after that. He had suffered a complete psychotic break. He spent his days in the asylum's garden, tracing my name in the dirt with his fingers, over and over again, a man forever haunted by a love he had destroyed. Two years later, | stood on our balcony, watching Gordon play with our one-year-old son, Leo, on the beach. He looked up at me and waved, his smile as bright as the sun. Our life was not a dramatic fairytale. It was quiet. It was ---- peaceful. It was filled with the small, ordinary moments of joy that make up a lifetime of happiness. | had walked through fire and come out the other side. | had learned that true love isn't a storm that consumes you. It's a quiet harbor that shelters you, a steady hand that holds you, a kind heart that sees you, not as a possession, but as a partner. | had finally found my peace. | had finally found my home.