Chapter 10

Lauren's POV

The world seemed to tilt slightly on its axis when Daphne rushed toward me, her face pale and her voice trembling with urgency.

“Hey, girl! Something’s wrong!” she said, clutching my arm. “I just took Abigail out of the bathroom, and I saw Alexander coming into the mall with a group of people. They’re saying he’s here looking for his lost son.”

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

Alexander? Here?

The name sent a rush of memories surging forward, tangled and painful. I glanced at Owen, sitting quietly by the table, his tiny fingers tracing patterns on the surface.

His…son.

I leaned over the table, my voice shaking. “Owen,” I asked gently, though my heart hammered in my chest. “Is your dad… Alpha Alexander?”

He hesitated, his wide eyes searching mine for something—reassurance, maybe? Finally, he gave the smallest of nods.

My heart plummeted. It was him. The man I had spent so many years trying to avoid was here, mere steps away. And this was his kid.

I forced myself to act quickly, to think through the fog of panic. I placed a trembling hand on Owen’s shoulder “Thank you for telling the truth,” before turning to Daphne.

“Wait here for Alexander,” I said, the words tasting bitter as they left my mouth. “Tell him you’re the one who called. Tell him you found his son.”

Daphne stared at me, her mouth opening to argue, but I pressed my phone into her hands and cut her off. “I’m taking Abigail and leaving. Now.”

Owen’s face crumpled, as I stood up from the table, a flash of hurt passing through his eyes, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t let myself falter.

I grabbed Abigail’s hand and started walking quickly toward the exit, trying to keep my pace steady and my expression calm despite the storm raging inside me.

“Mommy,” Abigail said, her voice filled with confusion as she struggled to keep up with my hurried steps. “Why are we running? What about Big Brother?”

Big brother? I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my voice to stay steady.

“Big Brother is going to find his dad,” I said softly. “He can’t stay with us anymore.”

She frowned, tugging on my hand. “Who is Alpha Alexander? Is he scary? Why do you seem so scared of him?”

The question sliced through me. My lips pressed into a thin line as I glanced down at her innocent face.

He’s your father, I thought painfully, the words too heavy to speak aloud.

Instead, I shook my head. “He’s a bad man,” I said firmly. “In the future, if you see him or hear his name, stay away from him. Don’t let him see you.”

Abigail’s big eyes blinked up at me, her confusion deepening, but she didn’t argue. She just tightened her grip on my hand as if sensing the weight of my words.

Our home’s door slammed open with more force than usual, the sound jolting me as I washed the last of last night’s dinner dishes. Daphne’s hurried steps followed, her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

When I turned, her face was pale, her hands trembling as she clutched the edge of the dining table for support.

“You won’t believe it,” she gasped, stumbling into the chair like it was the last lifeboat on a sinking ship. Her hands clutched the armrests so hard, I thought the chair might file a complaint.

“He looked so scary, Lauren. That glare? Oh, my God. I was sure he was going to turn me into a pile of ash with one look. I almost spilled everything! Like, full-on word vomit, no filter!”

My stomach dropped.

Though, I couldn’t blame her. My heart sped up at the thought of Alexander, his piercing gaze, his suffocating presence. I forced myself to keep my expression neutral, gesturing sharply toward the hallway.

“Keep your voice down,” I hissed, glancing toward Abigail’s room. The door was shut, but the light beneath it was still on.

Daphne winced, slapping a hand over her mouth. Then she leaned in so close I could smell the mint in her breath.

“So, it’s true, isn’t it?” she whispered, her eyes as wide as saucers, practically boring into mine. “Owen is Alexander and Sophia’s kid? That’s why he looks so much like Abigail—they’re half-siblings!” She said it like she was dropping the juiciest gossip bomb of the decade.

I felt the familiar weight settle on my chest, heavier now that the words had been spoken aloud. I nodded stiffly, my throat too tight to speak.

Daphne’s face contorted like she’d bitten into a lemon—equal parts disbelief and pity.

“Wait, you’re telling me you’re taking care of his kid? For this case?” She paused, her voice dripping with dramatic emphasis. “I mean, I guess it makes sense now, but seriously? How are you so calm?”

I swallowed hard, turning back to the sink to busy my hands, scrubbing at a pot that was already spotless.

“That’s because I’m not taking the sace. Not anymore. I can’t do it, Daphne,” I said finally, my voice low and strained. “I can’t treat their child. Not after everything.”

Daphne tilted her head, her expression softening as she shifted her weight.

“I mean, I get it, I really do… but he’s just a kid,” she said, her voice dipping into that overly gentle tone people use when they’re trying to make a point without poking the bear.

“You’ve seen how attached he is to you. I mean, come on—aside from Abigail, you’re, like, the only person he seems to like. The kid barely reacts to anyone else. He chased you to a parking lot. He’s practically a mini shadow at this point!”

I closed my eyes, gripping the edge of the counter for support as memories of Owen’s shy smile and hesitant voice filled my mind. I could still hear the way he called me “Mommy,” the way his small hand clung to mine as if I were the only safe place in the world.

If my child hadn’t passed, they’d be about Owen’s age now…

The thought cut off sharply, leaving a dull ache in its place. I drew in a shaky breath, my chest tightening.

Daphne stood and came closer, her hand resting lightly on my arm. Her voice was soft but insistent, he tone lowering more serious.

“Lauren, you’ve always wanted to help sick werewolf children. It’s why you came back, isn’t it? To find new treatments, to save lives? You can’t let your history with Alexander stop you from helping Owen. Helping others through him. He’s innocent in all this.”

Her words tore through the walls I’d spent years building around my heart. She was right, of course. Owen was innocent. None of this was his fault.

But knowing that didn’t make it easier.

I turned to face her, my hands trembling as I dried them on a towel. “It’s not that simple, Daphne,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I look at him, I’ll see everything I’ve tried so hard to leave behind. Not to mention, it’s dangerous.”

“But it’s not about Alexander,” she said gently. “It’s about Owen. He’s just a scared little boy who needs someone to fight for him. And right now, that someone is you.”

The conviction in her voice made my resolve waver. Her words settled in the silence between us, heavy but not unbearable.

Daphne smiled faintly, stepping back to give me space. “Think about it,” she said simply.

I nodded again, though a part of me knew—no matter what had happened between Alexander and me, I couldn’t turn my back on Owen…Could I?

The next morning, as I walked through the sterile halls of the hospital, the air felt heavier than usual.

I could already sense something was off—an unsettling tension I couldn’t shake. When I was called into the director's office, I knew this wasn’t going to be a simple meeting.

“Dr. Ava,” he said, his voice carefully neutral as I stepped inside. His eyes were steady, but the tension in his posture gave him away. “Owen’s father has requested that you be his attending physician. He’s given permission for you to set any consultation fee you see fit.”

I froze in front of the desk, my stomach dropping. I could feel the walls closing in.

“That’s not possible,” I said quickly, almost pleading, shaking my head.

The director exhaled, a long sigh as if expecting my reaction. “He’ll be here shortly to discuss it with you in person.”

A rush of panic surged through me. I spun around too quickly, my pulse racing, but before I could take a step toward the door, it swung open.

“Hello, Dr. Ava.”