Chapter 51

Alexander

I leaned back in my office chair, arms crossed, my gaze fixed on Lauren. She stood in the center of the room, her posture rigid, her defiance radiating off her in waves. Her eyes, sharp and unyielding, seemed determined to cut through what little composure I had left.

Even now, with her fury aimed squarely at me, she was breathtaking. That was Lauren—beautiful even when she looked like she wanted to kill me.

I barely had time to process the whirlwind she had unleashed. My children. Our children. The betrayal of a partner I’d trusted for years. All of it, just to get my wife back, them back. And now this…

“You can’t be serious,” I said, my voice low, and controlled, though the heat under my skin was prickling. “Taking Owen away from the Pack? From me?”

Lauren’s jaw tightened, her lips pressing into a thin line before she spoke. “I’m deadly serious, Alexander. He deserves stability, a real home. Somewhere he isn’t caught in the crossfire of—this.” She gestured vaguely between us, her hand trembling slightly.

I pushed off the desk, the movement abrupt, my frustration bubbling over as I stood. “And you think splitting us apart is the answer? Again? Do you think ripping him away from his father, his roots, will give him the stability you’re so desperate for?”

She met my gaze head-on, her voice unwavering. “What family, Alexander? You’re the Alpha of this Pack, and I respect that, but you’re barely present. You’re too consumed with holding everything together to see what’s happening right in front of you. Owen needs more than that.”

“Lauren—” I tried but she cut in quick.

“Why do you think Sophia got away with her abuse? Her schemes are right under your nose—”

This time I cut in. But with only a look, one that shut her lips tight.

“I’m well aware of my mistakes. For trusting someone I shouldn’t have,” I bit low. “But I’m doing everything I can. Every decision I’ve made is for this Pack, for this family. For him. Don’t you dare stand there and tell me I’m not doing enough when you only see the surface.”

Her eyes softened for a moment, but the resolve in them didn’t waver. “Hey, I get it, alright?” She stepped toward me softly, her head lowered slightly in submission. “I’m not saying you don’t care. I know you do. But caring isn’t enough. He’s a child, Alexander. He needs consistency, someone who can focus on him, not just the weight of the entire Pack.”

I ran a hand through my hair, taking in her small frame. “And you think you can do better? Just you? Without the support of the Pack, without me?”

Lauren’s voice cracked slightly, but her determination held firm. “I have been. For years, I’ve carried the guilt of losing him, of not being there when he needed me most. You have no idea what that feels like, to think you’ve failed as a mother. He suffered for years and I…”

I took a deep breath, my chest tightening at the raw emotion in her words. At this point, I guess we both felt like shit parents. “You didn’t fail him, Lauren. We—”

“We failed him,” she interrupted, her voice steady now, cutting through my thoughts. “Both of us. And now I’m trying to make it right.”

The room fell into a suffocating silence, the tension pressing down like a weight I couldn’t shake.

She wasn’t wrong. Like usual.

I could see it—the pain carved into her features, the regret and longing that reflected my own. But the thought of her taking Owen away—away from me, from everything he’d ever known—was unthinkable. It twisted something deep inside me, something I couldn’t ignore.

“He needs both of us,” I said at last, my voice quieter. “I exiled Sophia. I know I’ve made mistakes—let you down, let him down—but I’m trying, Lauren. Trying to be the father he deserves. And now, I’m trying to make it right. You can’t take that from me just as I can’t take him from you.”

She shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "Trying isn’t always enough, Alexander. And Owen can’t afford to wait while you figure it out."

The words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My upper lip twitched, threatening a curl. “So that’s it? You’re just going to take him and leave? Is that you’re grand plan?”

Her expression faltered, but she straightened her shoulders, her resolve hardening again. “I’m not doing this to hurt you. I’m doing this for him.”

I stepped closer, closing the distance between us, my voice dropping to a low, rough whisper. “And what about me? You drop all this on me—that Abigail is mine, that Owen is ours—after years of believing you were dead. And now you expect me to just… let you all go?”

My gaze locked onto hers, unflinching. “You’re his mother, yes. But I’m his father. He belongs here, with us. With me. Just like my daughter does—a daughter I haven’t even had the chance to be there for.”

I paused, the weight of my words hanging in the air. “How is any of that fair?”

Lauren’s eyes narrowed, “Weird how only one of our children ended up happy. And it wasn’t the one in your care.”

I could tell as soon as she said it, she regretted it. But that didn’t mean it didn’t stab into my heart any less, even if my cold expression remained unchanged.

“You’re staying,” I finally dismissed with a frigid tone, turning back to my desk with a sigh. “All of you are.”

Lauren’s breath hitched, her earlier regret souring, tone sharper than before. "You’re the Alpha, Alexander. You’ll have more children. You’ll rebuild, like you always do. But I can’t replace the years I’ve lost with him. You can’t force us to stay.”

The finality in her words hit me like a blow, a cold wave of anger surging through my veins. I’d been holding back, but she was pushing me to the edge.

“Years you’ve lost with him?! What about what I lost with her? Abigial?! Do you really think this is just about rebuilding? About having more children?” My voice, sharp and bitter, cut through the tension as I slammed my hand down on the desk, making it jolt under the force. “This isn’t some abstract concept, Lauren. This is our family!”

I leaned forward, my glare unwavering. “He’s not just another piece of the Pack. He’s my son. Our son. And you—” My voice broke with a raw edge, but I pushed on, louder, fiercer. “You’re my wife! And she’s my daughter!”

Her eyes glistened, but instead of breaking, she surged forward, slamming her fists onto the desk with a force that rivaled my own.

“Your wife? Not anymore!” she snapped, her voice breaking but no less powerful. “I know you remember those divorce papers hitting the counter as clearly as I do! That’s exactly why I’m doing this! Because I love him enough to give him the life he deserves—even if it shatters my own heart!”

She leaned closer, her voice trembling with equal parts fury and desperation. “We can’t do this! Don’t you see? This isn’t stable. It’s not safe for children! Do you really want them growing up watching their parents tear each other apart?”

I took a step back, the weight of her words sinking in.

I knew she wasn’t making this decision lightly. I wanted to understand her perspective, to find a solution that could make us both happy—but right now, that felt impossible.

“You should go home to our daughter,” I said finally, my voice low but firm. “You’re not just walking out of here with my son. We’ll figure this out, Lauren. Together.”

It wasn’t a solution—not even close—but it bought me a sliver of time to think, to hold onto the fragile hope that I could fix this.

She looked up at me from across the shadowed desk, her expression softening, just for a heartbeat. “I…” Her voice faltered, and she hesitated before continuing. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy. I want us to work this out—for the kids’ sake.”

Her gaze hardened, resolve returning as she squared her shoulders. “But if we can’t…” She trailed off, taking a breath, then met my eyes with quiet determination. “Then I’ll do what I have to do.”

And with that, she turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the room. Her words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting, pressing down on me like an invisible weight.

The silence that followed was oppressive, broken only by the faint creak of my chair as I sank into it. I ran a hand over my face, the exhaustion and regret settling deep in my chest.

She was right about one thing—I had failed. In more ways than I wanted to admit. But that failure didn’t have to be the end of us.

Whatever it took, I was winning my wife back.

I’d find a way to fix this. For Owen. For her. For all of us.