One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- - Chapter 170: Chapter 170
You are reading One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband ---, Chapter 170: Chapter 170. Read more chapters of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband ---.
The summer began with envelopes.
Cream-colored, hand-addressed, sealed with excitement and unknowns.
Eight letters.
Eight invitations.
Eight chances to step into the world and find out who they might become.
Damien and Arielle stood on the front porch, arms around each other, as their children trickled out the door one by one—suitcases in tow, nerves tangled with hope.
The house didn’t go quiet. It echoed differently.
Julian spent his summer at a music conservatory in Vienna. The halls smelled like varnished wood and centuries-old compositions. He practiced eight hours a day, fell asleep with blisters on his fingers, and woke with unfinished melodies in his dreams.
There, he met Luca—brilliant, strange, from Naples—who challenged him to compose something not beautiful, but honest. One night, under a fading sky, Julian played something that made Luca cry. That was the first time Julian believed his music could speak.
Leila interned with an education nonprofit in Chicago.
Her days were filled with tiny hands and loud rooms and chalk-stained sneakers. She read to children with heavy histories and heard questions that had no answers. But one girl, eight years old and angry at the world, called her “Miss Hope” by week three.
That name stuck.
Micah trekked into the Amazon Basin with a wildlife documentary team. It was mud, leeches, rain-soaked notebooks, and moments of absolute awe. He wrote field notes like poetry, sketching jaguars in moonlight and whispering to howler monkeys in dawn mist.
One day, he sent Arielle a video of a butterfly landing on his thumb, his voice whispering, “I’ve never felt more alive.”
Skylar volunteered with a crisis center downtown.
They listened more than they spoke. Helped organize shelves, pack food boxes, and learn what empathy really looked like in action. One evening, a teen came in shaking, eyes swollen.
Skylar sat beside them on the floor and said, “You don’t have to tell me anything. But if you do, I’ll stay.”
That night, something in Skylar shifted. Not fixed. Not decided. Just braver.
Amara studied modern dance in New York City.
The studio smelled of sweat and eucalyptus. Her body ached in places she didn’t know could hurt. Her instructor, a former prima ballerina, was terrifying and transcendent.
But on the fourth week, Amara danced a solo blindfolded.
When the music ended, her teacher whispered, “Now you’ve arrived.”
She cried in the dressing room.
Aiden took a civic internship at the mayor’s office.
It was red tape, speeches, data, protests, and purpose. He drafted talking points that got read on air. He learned how to hold power gently. One day, after a particularly tense meeting, he emailed Damien:
“Now I understand why you never raised your voice. It wasn’t fear. It was control.”
Eli joined a tech startup incubator for teens in San Francisco.
The hours were long, caffeine flowed like lifeblood, and everyone there spoke like the future was already here. Eli pitched a mental health app for LGBTQ teens and got second place in the demo day.
But the real win came after—when a mentor pulled them aside and said, “This? This could change lives.”
And finally, Ava—who had just started dancing last year—got accepted into a summer ballet intensive.
She didn’t have the years of experience. But she had something better—grit.
She woke up before sunrise every day, practiced through blisters and blood, and never stopped smiling. Her teacher called her “the firefly.”
Because even in exhaustion, she glowed.
At the end of the summer, they came home one by one.
Sun-kissed, changed.
They didn’t talk about it all at once. Not right away.
But Arielle saw it in the way Skylar’s shoulders straightened.
In the way Amara now stood taller during dinner conversations.
In the way Micah’s voice carried more certainty.
In the way Eli hugged her longer than usual.
Eight hearts had stepped into the world.
And all of them had returned carrying pieces of themselves they didn’t know they’d lost.
The summer didn’t just pass.
It transformed them.
And Arielle knew—this was only the beginning.
Cream-colored, hand-addressed, sealed with excitement and unknowns.
Eight letters.
Eight invitations.
Eight chances to step into the world and find out who they might become.
Damien and Arielle stood on the front porch, arms around each other, as their children trickled out the door one by one—suitcases in tow, nerves tangled with hope.
The house didn’t go quiet. It echoed differently.
Julian spent his summer at a music conservatory in Vienna. The halls smelled like varnished wood and centuries-old compositions. He practiced eight hours a day, fell asleep with blisters on his fingers, and woke with unfinished melodies in his dreams.
There, he met Luca—brilliant, strange, from Naples—who challenged him to compose something not beautiful, but honest. One night, under a fading sky, Julian played something that made Luca cry. That was the first time Julian believed his music could speak.
Leila interned with an education nonprofit in Chicago.
Her days were filled with tiny hands and loud rooms and chalk-stained sneakers. She read to children with heavy histories and heard questions that had no answers. But one girl, eight years old and angry at the world, called her “Miss Hope” by week three.
That name stuck.
Micah trekked into the Amazon Basin with a wildlife documentary team. It was mud, leeches, rain-soaked notebooks, and moments of absolute awe. He wrote field notes like poetry, sketching jaguars in moonlight and whispering to howler monkeys in dawn mist.
One day, he sent Arielle a video of a butterfly landing on his thumb, his voice whispering, “I’ve never felt more alive.”
Skylar volunteered with a crisis center downtown.
They listened more than they spoke. Helped organize shelves, pack food boxes, and learn what empathy really looked like in action. One evening, a teen came in shaking, eyes swollen.
Skylar sat beside them on the floor and said, “You don’t have to tell me anything. But if you do, I’ll stay.”
That night, something in Skylar shifted. Not fixed. Not decided. Just braver.
Amara studied modern dance in New York City.
The studio smelled of sweat and eucalyptus. Her body ached in places she didn’t know could hurt. Her instructor, a former prima ballerina, was terrifying and transcendent.
But on the fourth week, Amara danced a solo blindfolded.
When the music ended, her teacher whispered, “Now you’ve arrived.”
She cried in the dressing room.
Aiden took a civic internship at the mayor’s office.
It was red tape, speeches, data, protests, and purpose. He drafted talking points that got read on air. He learned how to hold power gently. One day, after a particularly tense meeting, he emailed Damien:
“Now I understand why you never raised your voice. It wasn’t fear. It was control.”
Eli joined a tech startup incubator for teens in San Francisco.
The hours were long, caffeine flowed like lifeblood, and everyone there spoke like the future was already here. Eli pitched a mental health app for LGBTQ teens and got second place in the demo day.
But the real win came after—when a mentor pulled them aside and said, “This? This could change lives.”
And finally, Ava—who had just started dancing last year—got accepted into a summer ballet intensive.
She didn’t have the years of experience. But she had something better—grit.
She woke up before sunrise every day, practiced through blisters and blood, and never stopped smiling. Her teacher called her “the firefly.”
Because even in exhaustion, she glowed.
At the end of the summer, they came home one by one.
Sun-kissed, changed.
They didn’t talk about it all at once. Not right away.
But Arielle saw it in the way Skylar’s shoulders straightened.
In the way Amara now stood taller during dinner conversations.
In the way Micah’s voice carried more certainty.
In the way Eli hugged her longer than usual.
Eight hearts had stepped into the world.
And all of them had returned carrying pieces of themselves they didn’t know they’d lost.
The summer didn’t just pass.
It transformed them.
And Arielle knew—this was only the beginning.
End of One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- Chapter 170. Continue reading Chapter 171 or return to One Night Stand, Eight Surprises: Pampered by My CEO Husband --- book page.