Hailee’s POV
My stomach dropped the mont the words left his mouth. Good and bad. I gripped the arms of the chair, my palms clammy, my throat dry. The broken SIM pieces still sat in my lap, mocking , reminding how fragile everything was. I swallowed hard. "Tell the bad first." My voice shook, but I forced it out. Frederick’s eyes lingered on for a mont, his jaw tight. Then he exhaled slowly, his tone calm.
"The bad news is—Nathan is already suspicious. He called back. Again and again. I had my contact check the trail, and though the SIM is gone, he caught enough to know the call was real. He knows a child—your child—spoke to him."
The air left my lungs. My hands trembled as I pressed them to my face. "Moon above..." My chest squeezed so painfully it felt like my ribs might crack. "It’s over. He’ll co. He’ll never stop now."
Frederick’s voice cut through my panic, firm and steady. "Hailee. Listen to ."
I lowered my hands, my eyes stinging, eting his. His gaze was sharp, unyielding, but there was softness too, just for .
"The good news," he continued, "is that the line is dead. My contact made sure of it. Nathan cannot trace the location; he cannot find the house. For now, you and the boys are safe."
The relief that washed over was sharp but fleeting. "For now," I whispered, my voice breaking. "But how long until he finds another way? He’s stubborn, Frederick. He won’t stop."
His steps were slow, asured, until he stood right in front of . He crouched again, his cool hands resting gently on my trembling ones. His voice was low, but every word carried weight. "Then let him co. If he dares, he’ll find standing in his way."
My throat tightened, tears spilling despite my effort to hold them back. He said it like a vow, like nothing in this world could shake his resolve.
I stared at him—this man who had given everything, who had asked for nothing, who still moaned my na in the dark when he thought I couldn’t hear.
And my chest ached. Because maybe he deserved more than I could ever give him.
I whispered hoarsely, "Frederick... why are you still here after everything? Why ? Why us?"
His eyes darkened, his voice a whisper of steel. "Because you are mine, Hailee. Even if you never choose ... I will always choose you."
My chest tightened, my heart twisting. I didn’t love him—not the way he wanted. My heart still belonged elsewhere, broken and torn in pieces I could never take back. But Frederick... he had stood by , protected , raised my sons as if they were his own. For ten years, he had asked for nothing. Ten years of loyalty, of silence, of patience.
And suddenly, all I wanted was to give sothing back.
Before I could second-guess myself, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
For a heartbeat, the world stilled. His sharp breath brushed across my mouth, his entire body going rigid as if I had struck him instead of kissed him. I froze too, sha and panic colliding in my chest. I had crossed a line I had never allowed myself to cross—not in ten years, not even once.
I almost pulled back. I almost whispered an apology and hid my face in my hands. But then—his hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, and he pulled closer. His lips moved against mine with a hunger so raw, so desperate, it stole the air from my lungs.
It was like opening a floodgate. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative. It was years of silence and restraint breaking in a single shattering mont. His mouth claid mine, and I parted for him helplessly, my resolve crumbling. When his tongue brushed mine, a shiver tore through , leaving gasping into him, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping alive.
Heat flushed through my body, pooling low in my stomach as his cool fingers traced my jaw, then my cheek, then down the fragile line of my throat. Every place he touched burned, the contrast of his skin against mine dizzying.
His hands tugged at the fabric of my nightdress, slipping it from my shoulders. My breath hitched, guilt and want colliding inside , but I didn’t stop him. Not tonight.
He pulled into his arms, lifting as if I weighed nothing, carrying to his bed. The sheets were cool against my back as his body pressed over mine, strong and steady. His lips trailed down my neck, his hands roaming over my skin like he was morizing every inch.
When his mouth descended lower, my breath stuttered. His lips closed over my left nipple, drawing it between his teeth, sucking with a hunger that tore a soft cry from my lips. At the sa ti, his hand captured the other, his fingers rolling and teasing until sparks of pleasure shot through , sharp and unrelenting. The dual sensation consud , dragging deeper into the pleasure he was giving .
I closed my eyes, willing myself to enjoy this. Ten long years had passed since anyone had touched , and I told myself I was supposed to want it... supposed to crave it. But the truth was, the mont his cock pressed against , it felt nothing like I rembered. Nothing like what I had experienced with them. This was different—too raw, too consuming, almost frightening in its intensity.
Opening my eyes, I decided to just get on with this as quickly as possible with no foreplay. So I tugged at his robe, pushing it open, my fingers brushing the hard lines of his chest. His breath caught, a low growl vibrating in his throat as he pulled the robe away completely. My pulse raced as he lowered himself again, our bodies aligning. His mouth found mine as he kissed passionately and hungrily. And then—he bent, pulling off his underwear, preparing to sink fully into .
But before he could—KNOCK. KNOCK.
A small, frightened voice called through the door.
"Mommy...?"
My blood ran cold. My heart stopped.
Frederick froze above , his eyes snapping to mine in alarm.
I shoved at his chest, panic surging through as I scrambled upright, pulling the sheets around . "Ozzy," I breathed, horror tightening my throat.
"Mommy, co quick! Oscar fainted!"
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