Chapter 14

Lauren's POV

The room seemed to freeze, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Alexander’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping to where Liam’s hand rested on my hip.

What? Fiancée?

The word echoed in my mind as I stared back at Liam. My gaze flicked to Sophia, whose smile seemed to stretch wider by the second, her eyes sparkling with the satisfaction of a secret revealed.

“Your fiancée?” Alexander repeated, his voice dangerously calm.

“That’s right,” Liam replied, his tone light but his grip firm. “Though I suppose congratulations are in order for you and Sophia as well.”

Sophia beamed, clearly pleased by the implication, but Alexander’s focus remained on me. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes.

His dark, intense gaze never wavered from me, as though he were peeling away the layers of my composure with every passing second.

The heat of his stare crawled beneath my skin, leaving an unsettling trail I couldn’t shake. I hated how easily he made me feel exposed, like an open book written in a language I couldn't understand.

I felt myself shrink, instinctively pulling away from Liam, desperately trying to get this train wreck back on track.

“We’re here to discuss the recent hospital acquisitions,” I said, my voice steady, even though my hands were folded tight infront of me. “Liam and I represent Hailsing, and we’re hoping to finalize the terms.”

Sophia’s eyes flickered with something I couldn’t quite place, but she wasted no time in dismissing my words. “Of course, we’ll be happy to offer you a price you’ll be satisfied with,” she said, her tone as smooth and patronizing as ever.

It was then that Alexander spoke, his voice cutting through the tension in the air like a knife. “What I need,” he said slowly, “is for Lauren to agree to stay with the pack, and to be fully involved in Owen’s treatment.” His words were a command, not a request.

The room seemed to freeze around me, my breath catching in my throat as I processed what he was saying. Laruen, my name. He never was afraid to push the room dispite it’s discomfort. I glanced at Liam, but he didn’t speak immediately. His face was unreadable, a mask of calm that hid the storm of emotions beneath.

Liam stepped forward, his charming smile spreading. “I’m afraid that’s not posible, sir,” he said firmly, his voice full of quiet defiance. “We have many other doctors, and I’m sure I can find you one just as good as Dr. Ava, Alexander. We’re not here for this.”

“Lauren,” Alexander corrected, his voice chilling. His eyes, cold and calculating, flicked briefly from Liam to me, his gaze lingering like a shadow.

“Alpha King’s health is deteriorating,” he continued, his tone deceptively calm. “You, more than anyone, would understand that, Liam. Once your brother ascends to the throne, you won’t be able to protect Lauren in the coming power struggle. She needs to stay where she’s useful. Where she belongs.”

I could feel the blood rush to my face, my heart pounding in my chest as the words sank in, Liam and Sophia’s face paling.

I knew Alexander wasn’t interested in buying the hospital for the sake of business. No, he wanted to control me. And with every passing second, the weight of his intentions pressed heavier on my chest.

Liam’s jaw clenched. “You can’t just take her, Alexander, buy her,” he said, his voice low but full of anger. “She’s not some pawn in your game. She’s not yours to control.”

But Alexander didn’t flinch. “Control? I’m not interested in controlling anyone, Liam. But I am interested in keeping things in order, in making sure the right pieces are where they belong. Only I can guarantee her safety.” He locked eyes with Liam, his expression unmoving. “You’ll see that soon enough.”

The words left like a bear trap snapping around me, ensnaring me to this man. I couldn’t… do this.

I turned to Liam, my mind racing. "Enough," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I needed space before I said something I’d regret.

Liam opened his mouth to protest, but the fire in my gaze shut him down. With a single nod, I moved away, my footsteps echoing in the empty space as I excused myself, desperate to escape the weight of the conversation.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind me, and I exhaled, pressing my palms to the cool marble sink.

It seemed impossible to convince Alexander to abandon his plans for the hospital. But it wasn’t just a building to me—it was everything. My life’s work, my child’s memory. Letting go wasn’t an option. I couldn’t walk away from the one thing that kept me connected to the child I had lost.

A shadow flickered in my peripheral vision, and my heart leaped. I spun around, only to find a closet door opening behind me.

Before I could react, I was yanked forward, my back slamming into the cold wall. Panic surged as a hand clamped over my mouth, and I froze, unable to move. His presence was suffocating—his grip like steel, trapping me in place.

"You’re planning to marry Liam?" His voice sliced through the tension—low, unmistakable. Alexander.

His hand remained on my mouth, his fingers digging in as if claiming me. My pulse hammered, and I struggled to break free, but his hold was unyielding.

His other hand tightened around my wrist above my head. My body trembled, heat spreading under his touch.

I slammed my free hand against his chest, pushing with all my might, but he didn’t budge. Instead, he pushed closer, his chest pressed against mine, his breath warm against my ear.

“Answer the question, Lauren,” he growled, his voice rough, dangerous.

I glared at him, my breath quickening. "I would if you’d uncover my mouth!" I hissed, straining against his grip. "This is a closet! Get your hands off me! You’re an Alpha, sir!"

A mocking smile curved his lips. "Answer the question, Lauren. Now."

My teeth ground together. I had no choice. "Yes," I spat, "I’m marrying Liam. My fiancé and your fiancée, the mother of your child, are just outside. You want to play this game? Don’t make a scene, Alexander." My pulse thundered in my neck. "If we’re caught—"

His expression darkened, his jaw tightening with fury and something else—something raw. "You think you can just walk away from me? From us?" His voice dropped to a whisper, dangerous and low. "Why are you acting like this? Like you don’t know me? Like you don’t know us?"

His face was inches from mine, his breath warm against my lips. His eyes burned with an intensity that made my head spin. I wanted to push him away, scream for him to let me go, but instead, I froze. My body betrayed me, caught in the storm of his presence. The air around us thickened, every inch of me trapped in the tension.

I wanted to spit in his face, to tell him to get out of my life for good, to remind him that whatever twisted version of us he still clung to—whatever fantasy he refused to let go of—had died a long time ago. He killed it. Killed me.

“I’ve told you countless times, I’m not your dead wife!” I shot back, fury bubbling to the surface.

His expression didn’t change. Instead, his hand moved to my throat, fingers tightening, squeezing with a ferocity that left me gasping.

“No more games,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “She didn’t die, Lauren. You are her. Where is our child?”

The world stopped.

His hand gripped tighter, and everything spun. The air thickened, pressing against me, suffocating me. His words cut through me like a blade, sharp, cruel. The room seemed to close in on me, the walls narrowing with the weight of his question.

Pain sliced through my chest, and I felt my breath catch, my throat tightening. It was a different kind of ache, sharper, deeper—one that had nothing to do with his hand tightening around my throat. The words slipped out before I could stop them, an involuntary confession that left me gasping. Tears blurred my vision, and the word “child” nearly buckled my knees.

“The child... is dead...”

The moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to swallow them whole, bury them deep where no one could hear. But the damage was done.

His grip loosened, and for a moment, I thought I’d reached him. But when I met his eyes, I knew I was wrong. There was no softness—only cold, sharp ice. His mouth twisted into something darker, leaving me feeling even more exposed.

“No…” His voice barely whispered, rough and jagged as it scraped against me. “What... explain, Lauren.”

I swallowed, feeling the weight of my own words. I shouldn’t have said anything. But it was out there now. My grief. My pain. I steadied myself as best I could, but my voice still cracked. “Everyone knows Lauren died from complications during childbirth. Her child… stillborn.” The words left my mouth bitterly, as he wasn’t the one who had pulled the strings.

Alexander’s face twisted with something sharp—agony, disbelief, and anger all tangled together. His voice was rough, almost desperate. "No... that’s impossible," he growled, stepping closer, his gaze dark and intense. "Did you miscarry?"

I almost laughed— his reaction, fake concern like a slap to the face. “You don’t even care,” I spat, my voice thick with pain. “You already have Owen. Why would you care about the child of your late wife?”

For a moment, his expression faltered. Just a flicker, a flash of something I couldn’t quite grasp.

“Actually…” he muttered, his voice dropping low into something almost menacing. “Owen is…”