Chapter 114

Nicholas

The baby was small and innocent, his tiny face scrunched up tightly as he slept peacefully in my arms. He was beautiful, perfect in every way, and yet…

I felt nothing.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. I felt something, but it wasn’t joy or pride or the overwhelming love I had expected to feel when holding my child for the first time. It was confusion. And a complete and utter lack of recognition.

The baby’s eyes were a soft, pale blue—nothing like my amber or Anna’s dark brown. And while he was small, he didn’t look like a premature baby. He was too big for that, too well-formed.

But most of all, I could feel the certainty coiling in my gut like a snake. Even my wolf didn’t recognize his own kin, his own blood. This baby was a stranger.

Anna was prattling away beside me, talking about names and plans and all of the wonderful things a woman should be thinking about in the first hours of her child’s birth. And then she hit me with the kicker: she wanted to name the kid after me.

“After his father,” she said.

His father. How sweet. But that wasn’t me.

In a flash, Kayla was gone. She mumbled something and slipped out without a second glance. I wanted to go to her, but was stopped when the baby wrapped his small fingers around my thumb, hanging on tight. I suppressed a grimace and forced a smile as I turned to Anna, not wanting to alarm her.

All the while, my mind was racing. And all the while, one thought bubbled over and over to the surface, echoing in my head like gunshots: This is not my baby. Not my baby. Not mine.

“And I was thinking we could paint his nursery a soft blue—something calming, you know?” Anna was chattering on, either oblivious to my inner turmoil or simply choosing to ignore it. “Oh, and I found the cutest crib online. It’s a bit expensive, but I think it’s worth it, don’t you?”

If this had been my baby—if I had been certain—I would have gladly listened to her, would have given her everything she wanted to ensure that her life as a single mother was as fair and comfortable as possible.

But I wasn’t certain.

I couldn’t explain it, but I could feel it in my bones. This was not my child. And I had a feeling there was more to this than a simple mistake of paternity.

While Anna was distracted, fussing over a blanket, I carefully plucked a single strand of hair from the baby’s head and tucked it into my pocket. It was a small thing, barely noticeable, but it was all I needed.

I bent down, handing the baby back to Anna, our heads bent close together as she reached for him.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft and airy.

But before I could respond, a sudden flash of light filled the room. I looked up, my eyes narrowing as I spotted a journalist lurking in the doorway, photographing us.

“Get out!” I barked, straightening.

The journalist hesitated for a moment before turning and scurrying down the hallway. I chased after her, my fists clenched at my sides, but by the time I reached the door, she was already gone.

The damage was done. No doubt that picture would reach the news, and most importantly, Kayla. It would paint a picture of a happy little family, two loving parents. A tale that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

I returned to the room, a muscle in my jaw ticking at this point, but Anna didn’t seem to notice or care. She was too busy cooing at the baby, her attention entirely focused on him.

Or so I thought.

“Nicholas,” she said without even looking up from the baby, “I was wondering… would you consider a relationship? So that the baby can have both parents together?”

I froze, my stomach twisting at the question. “Anna,” I said carefully, “I’m engaged to Kayla.”

She sighed, her expression softening. “I know your relationship isn’t real. You sleep in your office instead of with her! What kind of a woman lets her man sleep uncomfortably?”

I bristled at her words, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “Kayla is my mate,” I said firmly, my voice low and dangerous. “And our relationship is none of your business.”

Before Anna could respond, the door opened, and a nurse walked in with her arms full of supplies.

“It’s time to teach you how to breastfeed,” she said cheerfully, completely oblivious to the tension in the room.

I took the opportunity to slip away, my mind racing as I made my way down the hallway. I needed answers, and I needed them now.

I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found the number for the nurse who had helped Noah before. She answered on the second ring. We arranged to meet in a secluded corner of the hospital.

On my way, however, I ran into Noah. He told me that Kayla had been crying, and I cursed under my breath, feeling even worse than before. I went to her, only to find her being bombarded by reporters.

I swiftly handled the problem and told Marcus to take her home. There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t say it with all these eyes on us, so I kissed her forehead and sent her away, cursing myself inwardly for letting tonight get so out of hand.

And then I met with the nurse. Within minutes, she had taken the DNA sample and promised to have the results as soon as possible.

“Be careful,” she warned as she tucked the sample into her pocket. “If the guild finds out what you’re doing, they won’t hesitate to cover it up.”

I frowned. “You think the guild is involved?” I had a suspicion that they were, but hearing someone else say it unprovoked felt like ice running through my veins.

The nurse nodded, then lowered her voice, leaning in close so only I could hear her next words.

“The hospital director is good friends with the man who poisoned your friend, you know. But you didn’t hear it from me.”

I nodded, my jaw setting hard. The nurse hurried away, leaving me standing there with my mind whirling even faster than before.

With that, I left the hospital, my mind still racing as I made my way back to the estate. I needed to see Kayla, to reassure her that everything would be fine, even if I wasn’t entirely sure of that myself.

The next morning, I woke up in Kayla’s bed, my head pounding from the alcohol I had consumed the night before. I groaned, rubbing my temples as I sat up, the memories of the previous night flooding back to me.

I had stopped at a bar on the way home, needing a drink to calm my nerves before I risked talking to Kayla, who was no doubt in a downright thunderous state by then. But one drink had turned into two, and then three, and before I knew it, I was stumbling through the front door, my mind swollen and fuzzy with glee over the possibility that the baby wasn’t mine.

And there she had been, standing in the foyer, her green eyes wide and her soft lips parted.

I’d lost control the moment I saw her.

I had swept Kayla off her feet, kissing her sloppily as I carried her to her bedroom. I hoped she wasn’t too mad at my insistence—I had just been so overwhelmed, so relieved, that I couldn’t help myself. She didn’t seem bothered, just tentative and confused.

After that, I wasn’t entirely sure what happened. I think I fell asleep, too drunk and exhausted to do much else, like some kind of young male who couldn’t hold his liquor. Surely Kayla would be laughing at me now. I’d never live it down.

But now, as I woke and looked around the room, I realized that Kayla was nowhere to be found.

I frowned, climbing out of bed and making my way downstairs. The house was quiet, empty, which was surprising after last night.

“Kayla?” I called out.

But there was no response.

I searched the house, my frustration growing, until I finally spotted something sitting on the floor beneath the foyer table: a piece of paper. A note.

I picked it up, my heart sinking as I flipped it open and read the words scrawled across the page.

“Gone to see Grace for a few days. I need some space. Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. Guild won’t find me. -K”

I growled, crumpling the note in my hand.

“Dammit, Kayla…”