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Olivia’s POV

For a mont, I couldn’t move. I just stood there, staring, my heart slamming against my ribs as if it was trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

My parents.

The two people I thought I’d never see again.

My breath caught as my eyes road over them.

Mother looked... different sohow. Her face had more color than I rembered, and she’d gained a little weight—not too much, just enough to make her look healthy. Her eyes glistened when they t mine, filling with tears instantly.

But it was him who froze to the core.

My father.

The man I’d mourned for years. The man I’d buried in my mories when I was fourteen.

He stood there alive, real, breathing—looking older, yes, but still every inch the father I rembered. His dark hair was streaked with silver now, his broad shoulders still proud, though I could see the weight of ti in his eyes.

I couldn’t speak. My mouth opened, but no words ca out. My body felt locked between shock, anger, and disbelief.

How?

How was this possible?

My father took a slow step forward, his gaze soft and full of guilt. "Olivia," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Hearing him say my na broke sothing inside .

Tears filled my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I moved—one step, then another, then I was running.

Straight into my mother’s arms.

She caught tightly, pulling close, and I finally let go. The tears ca hard and fast, burning my face.

"My baby," she sobbed against my hair. "Oh, Olivia, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry."

Her words shook . Sorry? Sorry will never be enough.

When I finally pulled away, I turned to my father. "You..." I choked out. "You deceived ."

He gave a small, pained smile. "I’m so sorry."

My throat tightened. "You let believe you were dead."

His expression faltered—regret flashed in his eyes. "It wasn’t by choice," he said quietly. "There were... things you didn’t know, things we couldn’t tell you. It was the only way to protect you."

I stared at him, stunned. "Protect from what?"

He didn’t answer. His silence was enough to make my heart sink.

I shook my head, stepping back. "You don’t get to say that after all these years! You don’t get to show up now after everything and pretend you did this for !"

My mother reached for again, but I pulled away, trembling. "Do you have any idea what it was like? To think you were dead?" I said, glaring at my father, then turned to my mother. "And you? You knew all this ti, and you never told anything. You kept it away from ."

Her tears fell harder. "I’m sorry, sorry."

I wanted to hate them.

Truly, I did.

For months, I’d carried the pain of losing them—the anger, the emptiness, the sleepless nights wondering why they betrayed the way they did.

And now here they were, standing in front of .

Part of wanted to scream. Another part just wanted to hold them and never let go.

"I can’t do this," I whispered, my hands trembling. "I want to hate you both for leaving ... but I can’t."

My father’s eyes softened. "We are sorry," he said quietly. "Alpha Levi reached out to us. He said you needed us."

I blinked, caught off guard. "Levi?"

He nodded. "He told us about Lennox. About what happened. We ca as fast as we could."

I sighed and slowly sank down onto the sofa, my legs suddenly weak. "Of course he did," I muttered under my breath. "He always thinks he knows what’s best."

My mother sat beside , her hand resting gently on my knee. "You look tired," she said softly. "Are you eating at all?"

I gave a small, humorless laugh. "That’s what everyone keeps asking."

She smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Because we worry. You’ve been through so much, my darling."

I looked at her—really looked at her. Her warmth, her familiar scent, the way her eyes still carried that sa motherly love I grew up with.

And even though I knew she wasn’t my real mother by blood, it didn’t matter. She was my mother. The woman who raised . The woman who loved .

"I missed you," I whispered.

Her face softened, her voice trembling. "I missed you too."

We sat there in silence for a while, the sound of our breathing filling the space between us.

Finally, I asked, "Are you leaving today?"

Before either of them could answer, a voice ca from the doorway.

"No," Levi said quietly, stepping into the room.

I looked up sharply. He stood there, his hands in his pockets, his eyes moving between and my parents.

"They’ll be staying for a while," he continued. "At least until things are stable again."

I didn’t know when I flashed him a grateful smile. It was so thoughtful of him to do this for . "Thank you," I whispered.

Levi nodded and then turned and walked away.

After Levi left, the room grew quiet again. My parents began talking softly behind , but I wasn’t really listening. My mind was already sowhere else.

It had been days since we’d really spoken. Not since that argunt. I had hurt him with my words. And yet, even after everything, he still called my parents here. He still looked out for .

That thought sat heavy in my chest. Maybe... maybe it was ti to talk. To stop pretending that I didn’t care, that the tension between us didn’t ache every ti I saw him.

I turned to the maid standing near the door. "Please show my parents to their room," I said quietly. "They must be tired from the trip."

She nodded and began leading them away. My mother squeezed my hand before leaving, her smile soft but full of questions I wasn’t ready to answer.

Once they were gone, I exhaled deeply and followed the faint scent of pinewood and whiskey that lingered faintly through the hall. Levi.

It didn’t take long to find him.

The door to the study was half-open. Inside, I saw him leaning against the desk, his sleeves rolled up, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. The bottle beside him was already half-empty.

He looked tired, like the weight of the whole world was resting on his shoulders. Such a sight made my wolf stir with unease.

I stepped in quietly, closing the door behind . "Drinking this early?" I asked softly.

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