Serena’s POV
I stepped off the private jet into the familiar New York air, Ryan’s hand steady at the small of my back.
"How’s the side feeling?" Ryan murmured as we walked toward the waiting car, his eyes scanning my face for any sign of discomfort.
"Much better," I assured him, though I still felt a slight twinge when I moved too quickly. "The flight didn’t bother me at all."
The city skyline welcomed us back as we drove through Manhattan. I leaned against Ryan’s shoulder, watching the familiar buildings pass by.
I’d handed off the Dreamland Studio and Quinn family merger to Maya and Zara Percy, giving myself permission to take a much-needed break. Between nearly dying and reconnecting with my long-lost family, I figured I’d earned some time to focus on what mattered most—my husband and our daughter.
The moment we stepped into the penthouse, I heard her—Vivian’s adorable babbling coming from the nursery. My heart soared.
"Someone sounds happy," Ryan smiled, setting down our bags.
I practically rushed to the nursery, finding our daughter sitting in her crib, happily gnawing on her tiny fist. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she immediately reached up with wet, drool-covered hands.
"Hello, my beautiful girl," I whispered, lifting her into my arms. "Mommy missed you so incredibly much."
Vivian gurgled in response, patting my face with damp fingers.
"Her appetite has been excellent," Nora, our nanny, reported. "And she’s been sleeping through the night consistently."
"Such a perfect angel while we were away, huh?" Ryan said, joining us and gently tickling Vivian’s tummy. Her resulting giggle was possibly the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
Over the next few days, I fell into a blissful routine. Mornings with Vivian, playing with colorful toys and watching her face light up with each new discovery. Afternoons catching up on design sketches while she napped. Evenings with Ryan, rediscovering each other after our time apart.
A month later, my wound had completely healed, leaving only a faint scar as a reminder of the bullet that had grazed me.
One afternoon, I was sitting in the home office, sketching a new jewelry design while Vivian played on her activity mat nearby. Her delighted squeals as she batted at the hanging toys filled me with contentment I never thought possible.
Ryan appeared in the doorway, looking unfairly handsome in a tailored navy suit. He’d been at the office since early morning, handling the backlog that had accumulated during our time in England.
"There are my girls," he said, his voice warming as he crossed the room to kiss me softly before kneeling to let Vivian grab his finger.
I noticed the mischievous glint in his eye. "What are you up to? You have that look."
"What look?" he asked innocently, though his smirk gave him away.
"The one that says you’re cooking up something."
"Well," he said, standing and perching on the edge of my desk. "What would you say to a weekend in Las Vegas? Just the two of us."

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