Chapter 108

Aurora's POV

My father arrived at the medical facility like a storm cloud, his rage preceding him through the corridors like a physical force. I heard his voice before I saw him—angry, demanding, focused on blame rather than concern for my mother's condition. The nursing staff scattered before his fury, clearly uncomfortable with the intensity of his emotion.

"Where is she?" he demanded of the nursing staff, his voice echoing through the quiet medical facility. "Where's the daughter who destroyed everything?"

The harsh words carried down the hallway, reaching me even before he appeared. I could see other families in the waiting area turning to stare, disturbed by the disruption to the peaceful atmosphere meant for healing and recovery.

I met him in the family consultation room, hoping to contain his fury away from my mother's bedside and the other patients who were trying to recover in peace. Kane followed at professional distance, but I could feel his protective alertness as my father's anger filled the space like a toxic cloud.

The consultation room felt smaller with my father's rage consuming the air. His face was flushed with travel and anger, his clothes disheveled from what must have been a frantic journey to reach the medical facility.

"Your selfish actions have destroyed everything!" my father exploded the moment he saw me, not bothering with greetings or expressions of concern for my wellbeing. "Your mother is dying because of your choices!"

The accusation hit like a physical blow, confirming my deepest fears about the consequences of my investigation. The guilt I'd been carrying intensified, fed by his words and my own doubts about the path I'd chosen.

"Father, please—" I began, trying to find some middle ground where we could discuss this rationally.

"Please what?" he interrupted harshly, his face red with rage and exhaustion. "Please understand why you abandoned your duties? Please forgive you for bringing shame on our family?"

Kane stepped forward with quiet authority when my father's rage became physically aggressive, his movement placing him subtly between us. "I think this conversation needs to end."

My father whirled to face Kane with obvious hostility, his anger finding a new target. "And who are you to interfere in family business?"

"Someone who believes conversations should remain civil," Kane replied calmly, his military bearing evident despite his diplomatic tone. The contrast between his controlled composure and my father's emotional volatility was stark.

"Civil?" my father laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and unforgiving. "There's nothing civil about what my daughter has done to this family."

Kane's intervention gave me the strength to stand up to my father's emotional manipulation. I'd spent years absorbing his anger, accepting blame for circumstances beyond my control, but Kane's presence reminded me that I didn't have to continue that pattern.

"I won't apologize for exposing truth," I said firmly, my voice gaining strength with each word. "Giana was betraying the pack. Someone had to stop her."

"Truth?" my father spat, his contempt obvious. "You mean your jealous delusions about Raymond's mate?"

The dismissal of everything I'd discovered and suffered to expose sent anger coursing through me. Years of being dismissed and undermined by the men in my life had prepared me for this moment.

Before I could respond, my mother's voice cut through the argument from the doorway. Despite her weakness, she'd come to defend me from my father's cruelty, using what little strength she had to protect me.

"Our daughter is the strongest person I know," she said with fierce maternal pride, her voice carrying despite her physical frailty. "Don't you dare blame her for other people's evil."

My father's expression softened momentarily seeing my mother's condition, his anger briefly replaced by concern for her health. But his rage quickly returned, fueled by frustration and fear he couldn't properly express.

"She needs to fix what she's broken," he insisted, his voice carrying desperation beneath the anger. "Return to Raymond, apologize for her behavior—"

"I won't be manipulated by guilt," I interrupted, showing the independence Kane had helped me develop through his quiet support. "I won't sacrifice truth for family convenience."

Kane watched my confrontation with my father with obvious respect and pride, his admiration for my strength clear despite his emotional walls. His silent support gave me the confidence to resist my father's attempts at control.

My father began detailing the social and political consequences of my choices, revealing how my investigation had affected our entire family's standing in the community. The picture he painted was devastating—isolation, suspicion, economic pressure.

"The pack council questions our loyalty," he said bitterly, his voice carrying the weight of social isolation. "Other families avoid association with us. Your mother's medical treatments are being questioned. Some pack members whisper that we raised a traitor."

The revelation that my family was suffering social consequences added another layer of guilt, but I refused to let it change my position. Kane's presence reminded me that doing what was right often came with costs.

"Evil people's reactions to truth aren't my responsibility," I replied, my voice gaining conviction with each word. "I won't be held accountable for other people's choices to ignore evidence or perpetuate lies."

Kane provided quiet emotional support throughout the confrontation, his presence giving me strength to resist my father's manipulation. His steady presence was an anchor in the storm of family drama.

My father's demands became increasingly desperate as he realized I wouldn't be swayed by guilt or family pressure. "You have obligations! Responsibilities to this family that go beyond your personal feelings!"

"I have obligations to truth," I stated firmly, drawing strength from Kane's silent support. "I won't apologize for doing what was right, even if it's inconvenient for everyone else."

The argument continued for over an hour, with my father cycling through different tactics—anger, guilt, pleading, threats. But I held firm, supported by Kane's quiet presence and my mother's unwavering belief in my choices.

Kane's obvious pride in my independence was visible despite his professional mask. He was seeing me stand up for myself with the strength he'd helped develop, and his satisfaction was clear to anyone who knew how to read his expressions.

"Your mother needs family unity during her recovery," my father tried one final approach. "Your stubbornness is adding stress that could kill her."

"My mother needs family members who support her daughter's courage," I replied firmly. "Stress comes from watching people try to break down someone she's proud of."

After my father left in anger, slamming the door behind him with enough force to rattle the walls, I felt stronger for having Kane's support during the confrontation. His quiet presence had given me the confidence to resist emotional manipulation.

"Thank you," I said softly when we were alone, the words carrying more weight than simple gratitude.

Kane's response was carefully neutral, but his satisfaction was obvious. "You… demonstrated impressive resolve under pressure."

Even his formal praise felt like recognition of my growth and strength. Kane was proud of me, even if he couldn't express it directly through anything more personal than professional acknowledgment.

As we returned to my mother's bedside, I realized that Kane's support—even limited by his emotional walls—was helping me become stronger and more independent. His belief in my strength was helping me find my own voice.