Chapter 14 Full Circle

Lila POV

Four years later, I stood in the doorway of Marcus's room at Mercy General's long-term care facility, watching the broken man who had once commanded boardrooms and pack hierarchies with effortless authority. The car accident eighteen months ago had been the final chapter in his systematic self-destruction—a story I'd followed through Sarah's updates and pack gossip that reached even Paris.

My auburn hair was shorter now, styled in a chic bob that framed features that had found peace in the life I'd built for myself. I wore a simple blue dress that spoke of quiet success, and my eyes held none of the haunted pain that had marked our final years together.

But it was Ethan's presence beside me that would deliver the killing blow Marcus would never see coming.

My son—our son—clung to my hand while surveying the medical equipment with the fearless curiosity of someone too young to understand tragedy. At three and a half, he had Marcus's dark hair and my green eyes, but more importantly, he had the confidence that came from being unconditionally loved.

"Hello, Marcus." I kept my voice gentle but distant, the tone I might use with a distant acquaintance. "I heard you were here."

I approached his bed slowly, Ethan trailing behind me with the particular grace that marked werewolf children, even in human form. Marcus's eyes tracked our movement, and I saw the exact moment he recognized what I'd brought him to see.

"This is Ethan," I said conversationally. "Ethan, can you say hello to Mr. Gray?"

"Hello," Ethan said solemnly before losing interest in the man in the bed and wandering over to investigate the IV stand with scientific curiosity.

I watched Marcus try to speak, watched his damaged vocal cords produce only rasps and desperate sounds. The stroke had stolen his voice along with his mobility, leaving him able to communicate only through eyes that were now screaming with recognition.

"I'm living in Paris now," I continued, as if we were discussing the weather rather than delivering the cruelest revelation of his life. "My music career took off there—turns out speaking multiple ancient languages is quite an asset in the international classical scene. I perform with orchestras across Europe."

I glanced at Ethan, who was now examining Marcus's wheelchair with the methodical approach he'd inherited from both sides of his genetic line. "I remarried. Jean-Claude is wonderful with Ethan—he's been the only father figure the boy has ever known."

The lie was delivered with practiced ease, though I knew Marcus could see through it. Ethan had the Gray family's distinctive jawline, my shade of green eyes, and the restless energy that marked every werewolf child. There was no mistaking whose son he was.

"We're in town visiting my sister," I said, moving closer to the bed. Underneath my French perfume, Marcus would catch the scent of the wildflower soap I'd always used—some things never changed, even when everything else did.

"I want you to know that I forgive you," I said quietly. "For all of it. The lies, the betrayal, the choices that hurt us both. I've moved past that anger."

Marcus made a desperate sound in his throat, his eyes fixed on Ethan with an intensity that spoke of recognition and devastating loss. Our son had found a stethoscope and was attempting to use it on the wall, his face screwed up in concentration that reminded me painfully of Marcus in his focused moments.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" I followed Marcus's gaze. "Smart, healthy, happy. Everything a mother could want."

And everything a father would give anything to know, I didn't add.

I straightened, checking my watch with casual efficiency. "We should go. Jean-Claude is waiting in the car, and we have dinner reservations."

Marcus tried desperately to make another sound, and I could see in his eyes that he understood exactly what I was showing him. The child he'd lost through his own choices. The heir he'd thrown away for a woman who'd offered him nothing special. The miracle he'd never know existed.

"Come on, sweetheart," I called to Ethan, who obediently abandoned his medical equipment exploration. "Say goodbye to Mr. Gray."

"Goodbye!" Ethan waved cheerfully, then skipped back to my side with the unconscious grace of a child who'd never doubted his place in the world.

As we reached the door, I turned back one final time. Marcus's expression held the devastated understanding of a man who'd finally grasped the true scope of his losses.

"I hope you find peace too, Marcus," I said. "Eventually."

The door closed with a soft click, leaving him alone with the knowledge that would haunt whatever remained of his life.

In the hallway, I lifted Ethan into my arms as we walked toward the elevator.

"Mama, why was that man crying?" Ethan asked, his small hand touching my cheek with innocent concern.

"Because he's very sad, sweetheart," I replied, pressing the elevator button. "But that's not our sadness to carry anymore."

As the elevator doors closed, I caught my reflection in the polished metal—a successful woman, a devoted mother, a survivor who had rebuilt her life entirely on her own terms. The woman looking back wasn't Marcus Gray's wife anymore.

I was Lila Thorne, the name on my European concert programs, the name on Ethan's birth certificate listing me alone as his parent. I'd legally reclaimed my maiden name the day I'd landed in Paris, shedding the last connection to the life that had nearly destroyed me.

The elevator opened onto the lobby, where my rental car waited in the afternoon sun. Tomorrow we would fly back to Paris, back to the apartment overlooking the Seine where Ethan played piano with the natural gift that marked him as my son. Back to the life where Marcus Gray was just a ghost from the past, powerless to affect our bright future.

Marcus could keep his regrets and his tears and the devastating knowledge of what he'd lost through his own moral failure.

I had everything that mattered.

I had chosen to save myself, and in doing so, had saved us both.