Chapter 29

Esther’s POV

The bank clerk had barely looked at me before sliding the stack of loan documents across the counter. My hands shook as I signed my name—Esther Arden—over and over, each stroke a reminder that I was binding myself tighter to a debt that I could barely afford. Every signature, every initial, was a chain I willingly placed around my own neck.

I didn’t care. Not anymore.

Carl was alive, temporarily stable, thanks to the last infusion of funds I had scraped together. His treatment at the advanced facility was ongoing, and every day the machines hummed, every day his tiny chest rose and fell in rhythm with life, reminded me why I was doing this.

The interest rates were astronomical and the repayment schedule was punishing.

I didn’t hesitate. I had swallowed my pride so many times, hidden my desperation so many times, and this time, there was no shame in taking every cent I could to keep him alive. No shame at all.

When I returned home that evening, I moved like a ghost through the corridors of our house. I had worked through exhaustion, through fear, through grief. My body ached, my hands were raw from hours of typing reports and managing medical bills, but I had to keep moving.

I couldn’t afford to pause, to slow down, to let myself feel the full weight of everything. Not yet.

Sofia was sitting alone in the corner of the living room, knees drawn up to her chest, eyes downcast. The light from the setting sun slanted through the window, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist with her small, lonely figure. My chest tightened.

“Mommy?” Her voice was quiet, fragile, almost lost.

I froze mid-step, heart sinking. I had known she was growing more withdrawn, had noticed the small sighs, the way she lingered at the edge of rooms, watching but not participating. I had chalked it up to natural sadness, to the stress of Carl’s illness, to my own absence.

Seeing her now, a little ghost in the corner of our home, made the weight of my choices crash down on me.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” I said softly, kneeling down to bring myself closer to her level. Her eyes lifted slowly, glistening with the sheen of unshed tears.

“I… I just… I miss you,” she whispered. “You’re always… busy. And… I feel like I don’t matter anymore.”

I felt my throat tighten, but I swallowed the lump that threatened to break me. My wolf stirred beneath the surface, growling softly, angry, protective, frustrated. I wanted to hold her, to reassure her, to tell her that she mattered more than anything—but the truth was complicated. If I slowed down, if I paused, if I allowed myself even a moment of tenderness, I might falter. If I faltered, the balance that kept Carl alive could shatter.

“I know, my heart,” I said softly, voice trembling despite my attempt to remain composed. “I know it feels like that sometimes. But I’m working so that you and Carl can be safe. That no one can touch us. That you both have a chance at life without fear.”

Her small hands reached for mine, and I took them, feeling the fragility of her grip, the unspoken plea in her touch.

“I don’t care about safety,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I just… I want you. I want my mommy.”

The words stabbed me. They pierced through my armor of practicality, my resolve, my determination. I wanted to sob, to collapse, to let the guilt wash over me—but I couldn’t. Not now. Not when Carl’s life hung in the balance.

“I promise, Sofia,” I whispered, tightening my grip on her small hands. “I promise I’ll be here for you. But right now, I have to work. I have to make sure your brother lives. That’s the only way I can keep you both safe.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears, and I saw the flicker of loneliness that had been growing for months, maybe even years. She nodded slowly, but the weight of disappointment lingered in her posture, in her gaze, in the small, silent tears that traced lines down her cheeks.

It was only for a little while longer. I’d do my best to be there for her and Carl both, but right now, work loomed over me.

After tucking her into bed that night, I returned to the small office I had converted into a financial war room. Bills, hospital statements, and medical reports littered the desk, the floor, the chair, the entire space.

I sank into the chair, head in my hands, and let myself breathe for the first time since morning.

The relief was short-lived. Whispers had started circulating in the pack, rumors I had hoped would never reach me.

“Kevin’s mistress.”

“Gold digger.”

“She’s just using him to climb into power.”

The words stung, but I refused to allow them to pierce deeper than my resolve. Every shred of pride I had left I swallowed hard. My loyalty, my love, my determination to protect Kevin and my children had to outweigh the petty whispers of the pack.

I glanced at the mountain of hospital bills, the growing debt, and the looming impossibility of repaying what I owed.

I couldn’t stop. I wouldn’t stop. I had to survive this, I had to endure, I had to protect them.

Hours passed as I balanced the books, calculated transfers, and reconciled hospital statements with dwindling funds. My hands ached, my eyes burned from exhaustion, and my body trembled under the weight of fear, guilt, and responsibility.

Then the tears came.

I tried to hold them back at first, biting my lip, pressing my hands into my eyes. Exhaustion had worn away my defenses. I cried silently, shoulders shaking, letting the grief and frustration pour out into the empty office.

“I’ll pay it,” I whispered, voice hoarse. “I’ll pay any price. I’ll work myself into the ground. I’ll give up everything I have, even if it kills me… even if you grow up hating me, Sofia… even if Carl suffers because I couldn’t do enough…” My words trailed off into the hum of fluorescent lights, the tick of a clock, and the soft whir of the computer fans.

I whispered to my wolf, my silent companion, my invisible ally, my guide through the darkness.

“As long as they’re safe now, as long as Carl lives, as long as Sofia doesn’t have to feel this loneliness, it’s worth it.”

Sharon, as always, was silent.

Hours blurred into one another. The pile of paperwork shrank, slowly and painfully.

I paused only to glance at the small photograph on my desk: Carl and Sofia, smiling at the camera during a rare peaceful moment months ago. Their eyes shone with trust, innocence, and the pure love that had given me strength through every trial.

I swallowed hard, pressing a hand to my chest, feeling the tight coil of determination in my heart.

I would carry the weight of the world if it meant my children could grow, could laugh, could live without fear.

And I would do it all alone if I had to, carrying the debts, the whispers, the exhaustion, and the silent weight of guilt, as long as Carl and Sofia could live another day.