Page 179 of Undisputed Chaos
SPECIAL EPILOGUE
Wade
The Rolls-Royce came to a stop outside Jax's beachfront mansion, and I took a moment to steady myself, an unusual requirement for a man who'd built an empire on unshakeable confidence.
A few years in the Caribbean had been... educational.
The latest collection of models had proven entertaining enough, though none possessed that spark of intelligence I found myself craving more frequently these days.
But tonight wasn't about meaningless diversions.
Tonight was about family. About finally meeting the women who'd accomplished what I'd thought impossible—taming my sons' wild hearts.
The ocean stretched endlessly before the property, waves catching the late afternoon sun like scattered diamonds.
My hands, steady as they'd been through decades of high-stakes negotiations and darker enterprises, trembled slightly as I adjusted my Italian silk tie.
I brushed my golden hair back and kept myself together.
They were just girls, after all.
Except they weren't. They were the miracles who'd transformed my broken boys into whole men.
They were the futures I'd never dared hope my sons would find.
"Mr. Easton?" My driver's voice carried the deference that came with a seven-figure salary and absolute discretion. "Shall I wait?"
"No, Thomas. I'll be staying the evening."
I drew a steadying breath, one that carried the familiar salt of the ocean and something that felt remarkably like nervousness.
"This will run long.”
The grand front doors opened before I could knock, revealing Jax in his typical designer clothes, worn with the effortless confidence that marked him as my son.
Those blue eyes, identical to my own, lit with genuine pleasure.
"Dad." The single word carried years of respect, affection, and something new: pride in what he was about to share with me. "About fucking time."
"Language, son," I chided mildly, though my grin betrayed my amusement. "There are ladies present, I assume?"
"Unfortunately for your ego, they're all taken."
We pulled each other in for a hug, my son smelling of cologne and expensive scotch. I raised him well.
He stepped aside after, gesturing me into the marble foyer.
But his voice softened, becoming almost vulnerable. “Estelle’s been planning this for weeks, Dad. She's nervous about meeting you."
The admission was honest.
My son's woman, the one who'd captured his notoriously wandering heart, was nervous about my approval.
The weight of that responsibility settled comfortably on my shoulders.
"And you?" I asked quietly, studying the face that was so much like my own at that age. "Are you nervous?"
Jax's laugh was shaky. "Terrified. I've never brought a woman home to meet you before."
