CHAPTER 213: ANGRY

Hailee’s POV

I couldn’t breathe. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, like life itself was draining from my body. My chest tightened, and I pressed a trembling hand against it, trying to steady my breath, but it didn’t help. The doctor’s words kept echoing in my head.

"Each boy has a different father."

I blinked, unable to believe what I’d just heard. My eyes darted toward the three men standing across from me. They weren’t saying a word. Their faces were pale, their eyes wide and filled with the same disbelief I felt. Nathan looked like someone had ripped the ground out from beneath him. Callum’s jaw was tight, his knuckles white at his sides. Dane just stood there, frozen, his face unreadable, but his eyes, his eyes were full of quiet shock.

For a moment, I thought one of them would yell. That Nathan would shout like he always did when hurt. That Callum would demand an explanation. That Dane would walk out in anger. But none of them did. They just stood there, silent, broken, and confused.

Then, slowly, one after another, they turned away. Nathan was the first to move, his footsteps heavy as he walked toward the door. He didn’t even look back. Callum followed, his hands still trembling, his shoulders stiff with anger he couldn’t bring himself to show. Dane paused for a second longer, looking at me like he wanted to say something, but then he turned too.

The door shut softly behind them.

And then, I was alone.

The silence that followed was deafening. It pressed against my ears, my chest, my soul. I could still hear the faint beeping of the machines, the quiet voices of nurses in the hall, but in my world, everything had stopped.

I turned my head toward the ceiling, my vision blurring with tears. "I destroyed everything," I whispered to no one.

My sons... my beautiful boys. Each of them, Oscar, Oliver, and Ozzy, carried a piece of the men I’d hurt.

A sob escaped before I could stop it. I covered my mouth, but it came anyway, soft, broken, full of everything I’d held in for years. And for the first time since the crash, I wished I hadn’t survived. At least I wouldn’t have to face all this.

Fear twisted in my chest, sharp and suffocating. What if they hated me so much that they took my sons away? What if they said I wasn’t fit to be their mother? What if they turned them against me? The thought made my stomach turn.

I couldn’t lose them. I couldn’t. They were all I had left.

Before I even realized what I was doing, I ripped the IV needle out of my arm. The pain stung, but I didn’t care. Blood dripped down my hand and onto the floor as I stood, my legs shaking under my weight.

"Miss, you shouldn’t," a nurse gasped when she saw me stumble into the hallway.

"I need to see my sons," I said, my voice hoarse and shaky.

She hurried toward me, panic in her eyes. "Ma’am, please, you’re bleeding! You need to go back to bed."

"No!" I snapped, pulling away from her grasp. "I’m going to see my sons!"

Before she could stop me, I pushed past her and followed the sound of voices, voices I knew too well.

Nathan. Callum. Dane.

They were standing near the emergency wing, just coming out of the room where my boys were being treated. I froze when I saw them. Their faces were grim, their eyes darker than I’d ever seen. The nurse’s footsteps echoed behind me, but I didn’t move. I just stood there, bleeding, shaking, terrified.

When Nathan turned and saw me, his eyes widened for only a second before they hardened. "Hailee, go back," he said sharply.

I shook my head. "I want to see my sons."

"You’re bleeding—"

"I said I want to see them!"

The nurse tried to step forward, but Nathan’s voice suddenly boomed through the hall.

"Keep quiet, Hailee!"

The words hit like a slap. His tone wasn’t just angry, it was filled with raw pain.

Everyone in the hallway went still. The nurse froze. Even Callum and Dane turned toward him in shock. Nathan’s eyes burned into mine.

"You’re a bitch," he said, his voice trembling with rage. "You’re wicked. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

Tears blurred my vision instantly. "Nathan—"

"Because of you," he shouted, stepping closer, "I lost ten years of my son’s life! Ten years, Hailee! While I was out there thinking he didn’t exist, my blood, my boy, my son was growing up without me!"

My heart broke in my chest. "Nathan, please—"

"Don’t!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "Don’t you dare say a word. I don’t want to hear another lie from your mouth. You kept him from me, and now you think you can cry and make it better?"

He pointed toward the emergency door. "You’re never seeing Oscar again. Never."

The words shattered me.

Before I could stop myself, I ran to him, grabbing his arm, my voice shaking. "Don’t you dare, Nathan! Don’t you dare say that! They’re my sons, mine! I carried them for months! I almost died bringing them into this world!"

His eyes flared with fury. "And whose fault is that?" he shouted back. "Did I tell you to keep it a secret? Did I tell you to run away and raise them alone? Did I tell you to let us live like fools for ten years?"

I stepped back, shaking my head. "You don’t understand—"

"No," he snapped, "you don’t understand. You took away our right to know. You decided for all of us."

His words pierced deeper than any blade.

Then Callum spoke. His tone was lower, colder, but no less painful. "Tell me something, Hailee," he said quietly. "How long were you planning to keep this a secret?"

I turned to him, my lips trembling. "I... I don’t know," I whispered.

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You don’t know? That’s your answer?"

Dane finally spoke, his voice quiet but full of pain. "You said you wanted to protect them. From who, Hailee? From us?"

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The tears kept falling, but the words were gone.

Nathan looked at me once, his jaw tight, his eyes full of hate and heartbreak. "You don’t deserve them," he said softly, almost like it hurt him to say it.

My throat burned as I tried to swallow back the tears, but they kept coming. I could barely stand, the world around me spinning.

This was my fear. The very thing I’d been running from. And now, it was happening. I’d lost everything — their trust, their love, and maybe even my sons.

Dane’s voice cut through the heavy silence. His tone wasn’t loud, but it struck deep. "Tell me, Hailee," he said slowly, his gaze fixed on me. "Were you even married?"

The question froze me. My lips parted, but no words came out. My heart hammered painfully against my ribs as everyone waited for my answer.

Before I could say a word, another voice spoke from behind.

"No."

The sound of it made my blood run cold. I turned quickly, and there he was.

Frederick.

He stood at the end of the hallway, tall and calm, his hands in his pockets, his face unreadable. His presence alone made the air around us heavier. His dark eyes flicked briefly to the men before landing on me.

"She was never married," he said flatly. "She’s been with me these past ten years."

The words hit the room like thunder.

Nathan stiffened. His eyes widened with disbelief, then narrowed with fury. "What did you just say?"

Frederick didn’t even flinch. He walked closer, slow and steady, his gaze cool. "You heard me, Alpha Nathan. She lived with me. I took care of her when none of you were there."

"Care of her?" Callum said sharply, stepping forward. His voice carried that calm edge that was far more dangerous than shouting. "You mean you kept her away from us?"

Frederick’s jaw tightened slightly, but his tone stayed even. "She wasn’t yours to claim. None of you knew what she went through. Her life wasn’t some open story you were owed a Chapter of."

Nathan scoffed bitterly. "Oh, but it was your story to write, wasn’t it?"

Frederick met his glare with quiet defiance. "It was her choice to stay."

"Her choice?" Callum snapped. "She was pregnant! You knew and said nothing? You let her vanish with our children?"

Frederick’s expression didn’t change. "She came to me broken," he said calmly. "She didn’t trust anyone. Not even herself. You wouldn’t understand."

I felt my heart twist painfully. "Frederick, please," I whispered, my voice trembling. "Stop..."

But he ignored me.

Dane crossed his arms, his tone cold now. "Then explain it. Since you seem to know everything, tell us, Frederick—why didn’t she reach out? Why didn’t she tell any of us?"

Frederick’s eyes flicked to each of them, then settled on me. "Because her life is complicated," he said softly. "And because none of you would have understood what she’s been through. You all see her as what she was to you, not who she became."

The tension in the hallway grew unbearable. Nathan’s fists clenched at his sides. Callum looked like he was holding himself back from stepping forward. Dane’s eyes were full of confusion and pain.

Then Frederick turned to me, his voice softening slightly. "You shouldn’t be out here," he said. "You’re bleeding."

He reached out, wrapping an arm around me protectively. "Come on," he said gently. "Let’s go back to your room."

"Don’t touch her," Nathan snapped, his voice deep and full of possession.

Even now, even furious, he still couldn’t let go of that claim on me.

Frederick ignored him completely and guided me away, his arm steady around my waist. My body was trembling, too weak to resist.

The nurse rushed forward again, trying to help. "She’s losing too much blood—"

"I’ve got her," Frederick said firmly, steering me toward the ward doors.

I glanced back over my shoulder one last time. Nathan was standing rigid, his eyes locked on me—furious, betrayed, but beneath all that, I saw something else too. Hurt. Deep, unhealed hurt.

Callum’s expression was unreadable, but his gaze followed me until I disappeared around the corner. Dane’s hands were on his hips, his head lowered like he didn’t know what to feel anymore.

And me?

I was shaking, bleeding, broken, torn between guilt and fear.

Frederick’s arm tightened slightly as he guided me forward.

"Don’t worry," he said softly, his voice almost a whisper now. "You don’t have to explain anything to them."

But even as he said it, I knew he was wrong.

Because sooner or later, I’d have to.