Seraphina’s POV
I lay perfectly still in the darkness, my breathing steady and controlled as I heard the door ease open. The sound was deliberate and quiet, not the careless entrance of soone who belonged here, but the careful movents of a man who knew he had no right to return.
He lingered at the threshold for a mont before stepping inside, and I felt my jaw clench with suppressed fury. After everything that had happened, after choosing Roxanne over again, he had the audacity to co crawling back here as if nothing had changed.
But Julian didn’t approach the bed. Instead, he stopped at its foot, and the atmosphere in the room shifted like the air before lightning strikes. I kept my eyes shut, every nerve focused on tracking his presence.
The sound of his body hitting the floor was harsh and sudden. He curled into himself, arms wrapping around his head as he pulled his knees close, beginning a rhythmic rocking motion that started slow and then accelerated. It was the desperate movent of soone trying to shake loose a nightmare that had taken root in his mind.
For several minutes, I tried to block it out. I reminded myself that whatever crisis he was having with Roxanne was his own doing, that I owed him nothing after the way he had treated . But the sensation growing inside my chest was becoming unbearable.
The mate bond between us ant I couldn’t just observe his pain from a distance. It crashed into like waves, a devastating combination of confusion and grief that threatened to tear him apart from the inside. Despite everything he had put through, the love I still carried for him wouldn’t allow to watch him shatter alone.
I pushed myself upright, the sheets falling away from my shoulders.
"Julian?" My voice carried the roughness of interrupted sleep that hadn’t actually occurred. "What’s happening?"
He didn’t respond or even acknowledge that I had spoken. The rocking continued, his breathing harsh and uneven.
I couldn’t maintain the distance any longer. Sliding out of bed, I felt the shock of cold floorboards against my bare feet as I circled around to where he sat. I lowered myself beside him carefully, settling onto the hard floor.
I didn’t demand answers or push for explanations. I simply waited.
Eventually, he shifted toward , letting his head fall against my shoulder. Every instinct scread at to pull away, but my wolf refused to abandon him in this state.
"I should have realized," he whispered, the words scraping against his throat.
"Realized what?" I asked, fighting to keep my tone gentle even as rage simred beneath the surface. My thoughts imdiately jumped to the worst conclusion—Roxanne must have finally broken his heart completely, done sothing unforgivable, and now he was seeking comfort from the woman he kept treating like a backup plan.
The familiar poison of jealousy began spreading through my veins, dark and bitter.
But his next words hit like a physical blow, so unexpected that my entire world tilted.
"From the mont Elena was born, every sign pointed to her not being mine. The timing didn’t match, the months Roxanne claid didn’t add up. Even her scent was wrong."
I went completely still. Elena—the little girl he adored beyond asure, the child I had tried not to think about because she represented everything I longed to give my son.
"But none of that mattered, Seraphina," he continued. "None of it stopped from loving her completely, from becoming her father in every way that counted."
My throat closed. Elena wasn’t his biological child. The revelation was staggering.
And the first emotion that slamd into was devastating—he must have loved Roxanne so deeply that he willingly raised another man’s child. That kind of devotion, even now, felt like a blade between my ribs.
"I should have realized," he repeated, his fingers drumming against my arm in an agitated pattern.
That phrase gnawed at . What exactly should he have realized? He had just admitted knowing the child wasn’t his blood, but loving her anyway. What more was there to understand?
I pulled back enough to study his face.
"Julian," I said firmly, gripping his arm. "Stop. What should you have realized? What are you trying to tell ?"
He lifted his head for the first ti, and I saw his eyes were bloodshot, staring at sothing terrifying that existed only in his mind.
His hands ca up to fra my face, large and warm, forcing to et his gaze directly.
"Seraphina," he breathed, my na trembling on his lips. "I should have realized that Elena is our daughter."
The world went silent.
The shock slamd into like a freight train, stealing my breath and freezing my muscles solid.
"That’s impossible," I whispered, scrambling to my feet and backing away, shaking my head frantically. "You’re delusional. Or having so kind of breakdown. We never—"
He rose swiftly, moving with fluid urgency. Before I could retreat further, he pulled against him in a desperate embrace, pressing my face into his chest.
"She is, Seraphina. She is our child."
I pushed against him, fighting the insanity of what he was suggesting. "No! You’re wrong! You’ve lost your mind! This is completely impossible!"
He held tighter until I stopped struggling, speaking directly into my hair with low, serious conviction.
"During my travels, I encountered a seer who told dark magic had been woven around my territory, hiding sothing crucial. I didn’t want to believe her. I thought she was delusional."
He explained how the seer had perford so kind of cleansing ritual, temporarily granting him the ability to see through the illusions and veils that witchcraft could create. He had remained skeptical.
"Then you called ," he continued. "You told Roxanne was connected to our daughter’s kidnapping."
My heart clenched. The mory of how dismissively he had treated still burned.
"I dismissed you, Seraphina, but not because I completely disbelieved you. I dismissed you because I knew if you pursued that line of thinking, you would have confronted Roxanne directly, and that wouldn’t have been safe for anyone. I decided I needed to return and investigate everything myself. What the seer revealed, combined with your accusations, made question Roxanne entirely."
He paused, steadying himself, and I was stunned because I had believed the complete opposite.
"The only reason I initially accepted Roxanne’s pregnancy was that when she first announced it, I sensed a powerful heartbeat within her. A wolf heartbeat. But weeks later, it had vanished entirely. I pretended not to notice, and honestly, half the ti I wasn’t pretending because all I could think about was you, but you were gone."
He sighed heavily. "I kept up the charade until Elena’s birth. That’s when I finally confronted Roxanne—I told her I knew the baby wasn’t mine. And she admitted it. She confird that Elena was not my biological daughter."
I gasped, pulling back to search his face. This was beyond comprehension.
"And you just... accepted that?"
"I let it slide, despite having countless questions. But when she was born and looked at with those knowing eyes, I had no choice but to beco her father."
He drew back against him gently. "My connection with Elena has always been the most powerful thing I’ve ever experienced. It was a bond built entirely on love, not genetics. For reasons I couldn’t understand, that little girl has always made feel whole. I never knew why."
He swallowed hard. "I never knew we shared blood."
I felt like I was floating in a dream, understanding his words intellectually but unable to fully absorb their aning.
"Today, when I looked at her, it was like seeing her for the very first ti. The illusion was broken. And Seraphina, when I looked at her, I was looking directly at you. She has your eyes, your smile. And most importantly, her scent—her true scent—is a perfect blend of both of us. She is the image of us, Seraphina. Both of us."
He let the weighted silence stretch between us, waiting for my response, but I remained speechless as my most impossible dream began to feel real.
"Roxanne was using dark magic to obscure her true nature," he finished simply. "To make her appear to be another man’s child. But she is ours."
I stood there, swaying slightly, as the truth finally penetrated my denial and struck my core. All the pieces—the kidnapping warning, the strange circumstances of her birth—were falling into place.
My throat was parched, my mind spinning, but only one clear thought remained.
I looked up at him, tears finally burning my eyes, and asked the question one last ti, needing him to confirm this impossible miracle:
"Elena is mine?"
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