The Sickened Luna's Last Chance novel Chapter 527

Epilogue Part II

Ella’s POV

Chaos was my new normal these days. Especially today, on Lucien’s sixth birthday.

My son was currently running around with a wooden sword, chasing after his shrieking sisters. Lilith was the faster of the two, her blonde hair streaming behind her as she ducked behind a tree. Maria, slower but craftier, grabbed a stick of her own and turned to face her brother head–on.

“You’ll never defeat me!” Lucien shouted, flourishing his sword.

“Yes I will!” Maria charged at him with a roar.

I watched from the porch, a smile tugging at my lips over my cup of tea. Alexander was beside me with his arm draped over my shoulders. The afternoon sun was warm on my face, and the smell of cake and grilled food made my mouth water.

“Should we intervene before someone loses an eye?” Alexander asked.

“Nah. They’ll learn their lesson better that way.” I grinned. “Besides, a good scar or two is necessary for a future Alpha, huh?”

Alexander snorted. “At their current rate, they’re all gonna wind up as criminals.”

He wasn’t wrong. The twins were five now, and they were handfuls. Lilith had my stubbornness and Alexander’s strategic mind. Maria had inherited a fierce protectiveness that reminded me of my mother, along with a mischievous streak that could only have come from me. Together, they were unstoppable, like a gale constantly billowing through the house.

As for Lucien, he’d taken after Alexander more than I expected. He had grown into a sweet, thoughtful boy who loved his sisters even when they drove him crazy. He was gentle with them most of the time, but every now and then, he would get fed up and chase them around the yard with whatever makeshift weapon he could find.

Like right now.

“Ella!” Anya’s voice cut through my thoughts. I turned to see her walking up the porch steps, balancing a tray of cupcakes in her hands. She looked good–her hair was longer now, although she always wore it in a crown braid to keep it out of the way during her sewing. She was wearing one of her own designs: a flowing dress with pockets big enough to hide small sketchbooks and pincushions in. And sweets, of course.

“Need help with that?” I asked.

“Nope. I’ve got it.” She set the tray down on the table and brushed her hands together. “Where do you want these?”

“Wherever there’s space.” I gestured vaguely at the table, which was already overflowing with food and decorations.

Anya had graduated from fashion design school two years ago, and she’d been running her own business ever since. It was small, but it was hers. She designed custom pieces for clients all over the territories, and she’d even started selling ready–to–wear collections online. She didn’t need Alexander’s money anymore. Didn’t need anyone’s money, really. She was doing just fine on her own, taking care of her family, although they still lived in their cottage on the property.

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