Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 247: Dollhouse

–Livana–

The children’s adorable chaos was my quiet kind of happiness. Their laughter bounced off the walls like sunlight, warm and careless. My mother, meanwhile, kept herself busy with Laura in the kitchen, preparing lunch for everyone. We made sure Jane had a proper break—she deserved it. I suspected Logan had done something particularly excessive with her the night before.

Watching him now, I understood more clearly. Logan wanted children of his own someday. He was naturally drawn to them—patient, attentive, and strangely gentle. He was especially sweet with Zendaya, who clung to him like a small queen who knew she would always get what she wanted.

"So," I said, closing my book and setting it aside.

"Hm?" Logan looked up. He was crouched on the floor, helping Zendaya arrange the oversized dollhouse he and Damien had built for her first birthday.

"Horsie!" Zendaya clapped excitedly as Logan produced a small horse, perfectly scaled for the four-foot dollhouse.

"Car!" Zayvier announced, returning with his collection of miniature cars. He slid them neatly into the dollhouse garage, as if instinctively knowing exactly where they belonged.

"What is it, Liva?" Logan asked.

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes slightly as I studied him.

"What did you do to Jane," I asked calmly, "that annoyed her so much she volunteered to leave?"

He only chuckled, unfazed, even as I leaned closer.

"Logan," I warned softly.

"I love f—ing Jane so much."

"Hey," I snapped quietly, "you have plenty of women back in Japan and Europe. You should never—ever—do that to Jane."

Perfect timing. Damon entered with a tray, catching the end of the exchange.

"What did that ass-man do to Jane?" His voice dropped, dark and dangerous, as he placed the tray beside me. "Let’s talk, Logan."

"Bro, come on," Logan protested, pouting like a child. "We’re just playing."

"Cow!" Zendaya suddenly grabbed Logan’s cheeks, squishing them hard as she pointed at the miniature farm. "No, cow!" she scolded seriously.

"Sorry, Your Highness," Logan murmured obediently.

"Camel!" Zayvier exclaimed, clapping his hands with unrestrained delight.

"Flyfly..." Sky chimed, his small fingers releasing the toy airplane into the air. It arced clumsily, clipped the edge of the dollhouse roof, and crashed inside with a sharp, hollow clatter.

That sound.

The room seemed to inhale all at once. We knew—every adult in that space knew—what would happen next.

Zendaya’s head snapped toward the dollhouse, her body going perfectly still, like a storm pausing before it breaks. Her tiny brows knitted together, lips trembling, eyes darkening with outrage far too big for her small face. The silence stretched for half a heartbeat.

Then came the scream.

"Sky!" Damon barked. "Apologize. Now."

"Babe," I murmured gently, but Sky pouted, his lower lip trembling before tears spilled.

"I’m soweee!"

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly.

Damon knelt, gently turning Sky to face Zendaya, who was still glaring.

"I’m soweee," Sky repeated, wrapping his arms around her.

Zendaya softened instantly.

I exhaled, smiling despite myself.

Then, I watched Zayvier. I chuckled when he facepalmed with exaggerated despair, his small shoulders sagging as if the fate of the universe rested on the broken dollhouse. Without missing a beat, he knelt and began fixing it with solemn concentration, tiny fingers precise and serious.

"Alright," I said softly, rising to my feet. "Let’s leave Logan here."

I took my husband’s hand, lacing my fingers through his. "Let’s talk, my love."

He followed without question as I led him upstairs to our room. The moment the door closed behind us, he locked it and reached for the hem of his shirt, already halfway into anticipation. I stopped him with a single touch.

He froze, disappointment flickering openly across his face.

"I thought we were going to make love," he murmured.

"No," I said gently, reaching up to cup his face. "I’m sorry." My thumb brushed his cheek. "This is about our situation."

He slid his arms around my waist anyway, pulling me close, burying his nose against the hollow of my neck. His breath was warm, grounding.

"Now that Deanne is pregnant," I continued, steady and composed, "she can still work remotely or remain in the lair. Logan, however, has completely lost his mind and plans to tie himself to Jane." I paused. "Sophia texted me as well. She plans to start a family with Kai."

"Alright," he said quietly, listening, his hand rubbing slow circles against the small of my back.

"I need Jane on the field with me. I need Sophia, too."

"You can’t be on the field," he said at once.

"I need to," I replied calmly. "For negotiations. Strategy. But not right now."

He nodded. "Okay."

"We can’t get pregnant yet."

He frowned, pulling back just enough to look at me.

"Liva. You promised."

I smiled and squeezed his cheeks gently. "There are no promises, my love. Only plans."

Then, softer—but sharper beneath—"I need Jane. I can’t let Logan get her pregnant. So, I plan to send her away for the time being—with my Rook’s team. Logan will be assigned elsewhere as well."

I grinned when he chuckled.

"As if Logan would let her go."

"We’ll see if he’s truly serious," I said, rubbing his shoulders, "or if this is just another fling."

Then I took his hand again. "Come. I want to show you something."

I led him into my closet, pushed aside the rows of hanging dresses, and pressed a hidden button embedded in the wall. The concealed table slid out smoothly. I logged into my account, fingers swift and confident, and brought up the image on the screen.

"The missing Shadow," I said. "The one everyone’s been searching for."

I tilted the screen toward him. "He’s currently secured in a safe house."

He crouched slightly, studying the man’s frame, the scars, the posture.

"Yes," he said slowly. "That’s him."

"This man holds every piece of intel on Tyrona’s current connections."

"We’re not forcing information out of him," I added. "He won’t talk."

"He’s different," Damon said quietly.

I looked up at him. "What do you mean?"

"He’s been tortured."

"Yes," I nodded. "We can visit him today—or tomorrow."

"No." He straightened. "I’ll go alone. My Shadows don’t know you’re alive. I won’t risk it." His voice softened. "Besides, you need to stay dead."

I chuckled quietly. God, I loved him. He always knew exactly how to protect me.

He kissed my forehead.

A loud scream echoed from downstairs—Zendaya’s unmistakable alarm. Trouble.

I smoothed my clothes and we headed down.

"Oh no..."

Sky stood in the middle of the wreckage, holding a horse figurine, wide-eyed and innocent. The dollhouse was a disaster zone.

Logan stood nearby, hands on his hips.

Zayvier dramatically placed both palms on his head and closed his eyes.

"Oh no."

"Do you want another set of twins?" I asked Laura, who scratched her head, clearly exhausted by the chaos.

"Yeah, sure," Damien chuckled, lifting Zendaya into his arms. "We’ll fix it all." His voice softened as he comforted her.

"Baddie!" Zendaya accused, pointing at the boys, who still looked painfully innocent.

"Liva," my mother called from the kitchen. "You’re needed at the lair."

"Alright," I smiled. "The house has been... lively."

"I agree," she giggled, returning to her cooking.

Back in the living room, the children were already repairing the dollhouse together.

"Where are you going?" Damon asked. "Can I come?"

"Yes," I said, glancing at Sky. "We can leave the little one here."

"I’ll go too," Logan said, standing.

I walked over and pushed him back down onto the floor.

"You’ll stay," I said sweetly, smiling as he frowned. I knew he wanted to see Jane.

Damon and I entered the underground tunnel, riding the electric golf cart toward the lair. In the garage, Commander White—Gareth—was inspecting the armored vehicle.

"Hey, Gareth," I called.

"Hey."

Damon eyed the car. "Can we try that?"

Gareth hesitated. "It’s for the field."

"We’ll try it later," I said lightly.

"Such fine cars," Damon murmured, rubbing my back.

In the control room, Jane paced in front of the monitors, wireless headset on, voice sharp as she spoke in our coded language. I sat at the glass chessboard table—half strategy, half battlefield.

Paris had fallen.

On-screen, the backup feed showed government forces breaching the lair—just as our men escaped. Every device self-destructed, clean and perfect.

"Jane," I called.

She removed her headset. "Yes?"

"Would you like to take a break in Paris?"

She laughed. "Yes. Away from Logan." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"Won’t you miss him?" Damon teased.

"No," she said flatly. "Why would I?"

I laughed.

"Well," Damon sighed dramatically, "if Europe sounds good, take it as vacation leave."

"Make sure you don’t marry Dela Vega," Jane added casually.

Damon stiffened. I raised a brow.

"You’ll find out," she smirked. "Tyrona’s making a move."

Damon shuddered.

"Oh, can we let David do that?" Damon chuckled. "He’s my stand-in—even in bed."

He laughed, eyes glinting as they lingered on me. "During the engagement, I was stalking you in Baguio."

"Yeah, I know." I rolled my eyes.

Of course I knew. He made sure of it—never hiding too well, always just visible enough. I had been wandering alone then, breathing in pine-scented air, enjoying the quiet thrill of solitude and altitude. And yet there he was, following at a distance, teasing me with his presence. He even suggested taking photos of me while I posed, as if we were already something effortless and ordinary.

I ignored him. At least, I pretended to.

But at every meal in those small, tucked-away restaurants, he would pay for my food and sit across from me—uninvited, unbothered—like we were already close, like history had already decided for us.

Back then, I think I liked that little game. The chase. The tension. The way he never crossed the line, yet always hovered just close enough to disturb my peace. I miss it sometimes.

Now, we are husband and wife.

Ironic, isn’t it?

But I love him now. That is what matters most.

We can go back there someday—walk through nature again, take our time, enjoy the tour not as strangers orbiting each other, but as lovers who no longer need pretense. Still, Tyrona is trying—desperately—to claw her way back to Damon, fueled by resentment over Alejandro’s death.

"I can let him get engaged again," I said lightly, a grin curling on my lips as I glanced at Jane.

She raised her brows, scoffed, then rolled her eyes, lifting her hands in mock surrender.

"Alright. It’s your decision anyway."